Richard Discovers the Best Holiday Party in Larryville! / Plus, The Boys Discuss the"Bad Sex in Fiction" Award! (Rated R for Strong Sexual Content!)

Readers, you've probably been saying to yourselves: all this art and pop culture analysis is well and fine, but whatever happened to a good old-fashioned personal "chronicling" of Larryville's nightlife? Well, here's a quick one.

Despite the fact that Richard has lived in Larryville for a damn decade, he only discovered Free State Glass's huge word-of-mouth holiday party last night (a party which, we should mention, has been going on for 24 years). The party attracts everyone from Larryville's "old guard" (many in formal wear) to beautiful underage party girls, and begins with a glass-blowing competition taking place in a ring surrounded by drunken onlookers (Richard originally suspected the ring was for bare-knuckle boxing or a cockfight, and was only mildly disappointed by its actual purpose). Featuring two bars of free booze, catered meats, a large stage, live bands, a dance floor, and a special "weed room," the party truly holds something for everyone and Richard's ignorance on the subject seems to call his hipster status into question once again, although he prefers to believe that it's a party so cool that it only reveals itself to someone who is truly ready to appreciate it.

Overheard:

"Two years ago, I saw boobies at this party."

"This used to be an old church."

"See that dude? That's famous local crop artist Stan Herd!"

"This place used to be an old theater."

"Last year we watched two couples fuck in that old balcony."

"I'll sell you this autographed beer coozy for three dollars."

"This place used to be an old German publichouse, or haus."


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Each year, the UK's Guardian bestows an award called "bad sex in fiction," "honoring" a sex scene from a "literary" novel. This year's winner is Rachel Johnson's Shire Hell, the story of two London social-climbers leaving the city for a rural home. Here's an excerpt:

"Almost screaming after five agonizingly pleasurable minutes, I make a grab, to put him, now angrily slapping against both our bellies, inside, but he holds both my arms down, and puts his tongue to my core, like a cat lapping up a dish of cream so as not to miss a single drop."

Chip: "The main problem here is that long phrase Johnson uses between 'put him' and 'inside.' Talk about literary coitus interruptus! Just get him inside, for God's sake!"

Richard: "The word 'angrily' also seems a bit odd in that phrase. 'Happily' seems better suited. Or maybe 'anxiously.' "

Chip: "And of course the whole 'cat lapping cream' simile is so overused in literary cunnilingus scenes. How about something more creative? 'Like a giraffe nibbling eucalyptus', perhaps?"