Hot Pink is a regular column on nzgirl that's sure to have you in stiches! Don't miss your weekly fix.
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Last time I sat in the upper gallery of the Logan Campbell Centre I was watching Donny Osmond bump and grind for menopausal mothers.
When I was there on Saturday, in the exact same seat hilariously, I saw bumping and grinding of a whole different type.
Yes people, I succumbed to the hype and headed to that great metaphor for society’s decline; Erotica.
Until this year I have managed to resist the urge to head down to Erotica. I decided I had been to enough sex shops to get my… er fill.
I too, like most people, was completely unaware of the whole ‘get yer tits out on various forms of transport’ parades they apparently had every year. But dear Dicky Hubbard brought that to everyone’s attention with his moral stance and I’ll bet hugely increased the patronage of Erotica to boot. (I only hope he objects to my next show so I can do so well. Maybe I’ll throw in some naked Berry Berry Nice yoghurt wrestling just to make sure.)
This year I decided it would be a good idea to attend due to researching for my... er upcoming show Hot Pink Bits about famous sexual women.
So I roped in a mate and headed to the Auckland Showgrounds armed with $20 and an open mind.
Once inside I couldn’t help but feel it was all a bit shabby. I guess that’s mainly because the Logan Campbell needs a revamp, but cubicles that look like refugees from The Office peddling vibrating fists and rubber catheters seemed a bit wrong.
Also some of the people selling needed to spruce up their act because, they were ugly.
“WHHHAAATTT!” you scream, “How can you say that???” Well…because they were. Before you get all moralistic on me, imagine buying an intrepid rabbit from an overweight man in a tight t-shirt with trackpants and a bum bag. Hmmm, case closed.
The stalls were, in fact, just like a giant sex shop. A sex supermarket if you will, Poontown perhaps. There was a vibrating hand glove that the overly excitable sales assistant grabbed my crotch with (I kid you not), a vibrating cone that you can sit on (and watch Coro I guess) and a million porn flicks, including My Ass is Haunted (don’t you hate it when that happens), but really nothing too new.
However where Erotica steps up from The Den is in their live shows and seminars.
First, a seminar on B&D.
I would like to say a lot about it, but I lasted 3.5 minutes and that wasn’t because of a quick… er climax, but because the woman was so boring I had to go. She was delivering info on sad-masochism with all the excitement of watching lube dry and so I lost interest quicker than you could say hot wax on testicles.
So finally the live shows...
I saw three shows. The first was an international porn star who danced and stripped to that sweet virginal group ‘The Pussy Cat Dolls’. She was gorgeous, a great dancer and had a very nice wax job. For her… er climax she managed to drag a female volunteer from the audience to pash up and dry hump. The boys were pleased. But not quite as pleased as when she ‘autographed’ one of her posters with a fluid that wasn’t ink and hurled it into the crowd. Probably a convent schoolgirl.
Then a group of Kiwi male strippers called Men of Steel pranced about in a dire strip show. This was summed up by their next performance which is to be at the Te Atatu Bowling Club behind the RSA. Ahhh fame.
Then there was another porn star who stripped to that sweet virginal group, ‘The Pussy Cat Dolls’….(I mean didn’t they confer?) and that’s when I left.
SO in summary, don’t get me wrong, I’m no prude (as this column has proved) and I think talking about sex is very important for good sexual health, but I guess I just like my sex shops to be a little bit more high class, and a little less overrun with 22-year-old boys screaming; “Look at those whores!” to the women onstage.
Now where is my intrepid rabbit.
Penny
Last updated: 29/04/2008
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