The Sausage Fest

Our dear Liss has a unique skill, that girl can win radio contests like none other. I’m not sure how she does it, but she does. She and Griffin have gone to more dinners, to concerts, and even a trip to SF on a radio’s dime, stations she does not even listen to even. Needless to say, we were not all that surprised to hear it when she told us that she won a free catered breakfast from Jimmy Dean Sausage for her entire office.

Only problem, she did not actually have an office at the time. This was Christmas and she was helping us out with the rush so I guess we were the next best thing. The offer was to be a free breakfast of greasy pork products and eggs for the entire Abbey crew and friends. After many conversations with the radio promotions people we were assured that they a) knew just what we made here at the Abbey and b) were not gonna be freaked out by it. Nothing spoils a good, free breakfast like a shocked right-winger staring at me in slack jawed horror while I try to explain the history of Japanese rope.

I figured that there would be strength in numbers so when the day did come, we invited about two dozen of our pork friendly friends and neighbors to come down, brave the cold and join in. I’ll confess, there was a moment there when we did contemplate asking everyone to dress in his or her fetishy best for the morning, then we remembered that at 9am the Abbey best resembles a large walk in meat cooler and re-considered. While the shock value might have been good for a cheap laugh, I really dislike that sort of thing. Springing your kink on the unsuspecting is just not cool in my book. Sorta like getting invited to a cocktail party, only to discover that it is actually an Amway recruiting event.

So how was the event anyways? I’d like to say that it went great and there was nothing strange to report… but I cant do that. Besides you would not be reading this if it was.

Let me see, Mr. Dean did not comedown in person to cook his said sausages. While I am not too shocked by this I am disappointed. I heard through the grapevine the Mrs. Dean was quite interested in learning more about what we do. No, our meal was made by a sweet, but befuddled looking professional psychic. How did we know that she was one? Perhaps it was her personalized license plate that read “SIGHKIK” that gave it away? Or maybe it was the fact that she was constantly handing out cards for her service to anyone who would listen. While I can’t blame her for her moxie, self-employment is tough folks; I do have to marvel at her misguided notion that since predominately kinky folks attended the event we MUST need her services. Reminds me of Jay and Silent Bob cruising for dates in front of Planned Parenthood in the film Dogma.

When they asked if we might put on some music for the morning, we all debated. See, none of us listened to the radio station that was sponsoring the event. In fact we actively shunned that sound whenever possible. I wanted some old Judas Priest, Nerdy wanted the new Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and Griffin was voting for straight up Marylyn Manson. We settled on that spicy, tandori-flavored hip-hop from Bombay, Bhagara. You can imagine their looks when that came over the speakers.

Then there is the matter of the winch.

Whenever I do a public show amongst vanilla folks, there is always guaranteed to be one, that one person who really wants this. They might not have known this before, but you can see it in their eyes. They REALLY like the rope and want to try it. Who was this week’s convert? Why the chipper little promotions girl was the one. By the time I pulled my rope bag out and started explaining the process she was practically vibrating with anticipation.

First problem, the great winch was in my neighbor’s shop. Seems she was using it to actually move something heavy, how quaint! No worries, Griffin and I quickly recovered the beast and I used it to make a grand entrance (Photo is work safe, that is unless you happen to work for OSHA). I also had my video crew there working on another project so we decided to shoot some footage of the actual rigging. (So look for a “So what is it like to be a winch wench” video soon.)

The darling girl went up like a dream, you’re sure you have not done this before? A friend once described me when I rig as “a gleeful little bastard”. Now I suppose I could take offense at that description, but looking at these shots it is hard to argue. I just love what I do and besides, how can you not smile when a charming girl is beaming a smile like that back at you?

So big thanks to Liss for sharing this with us, thanks Numine for sharing your photos, thanks to the folks at Jimmy Dean and the radio station too. Of course, thanks to everyone who braved the cold and potental hardened arteries to join in the fun.