Honky Dore

Dore Alley was this weekend (formally the "Up Your Alley" Fair from Folsom Events) and it was much fun and a reminder as to why I love this town and don't think I can move back to Nashville.

Again, I did not take photos this year. Not that there wasn't lots to see it's just that I'd rather be a part of it than removed from it, and photography at this event is really better left to the professionals. The SFist has a gallery that is suitable for work and most sensibilities. Saturday afternoon I did a Flickr search for the tag "Dore." I had to laugh at myself as out of the hundreds (thousands?) of photos that appear, an easy half of them feature people I know on a first-name basis.

After accidentally oversleeping, I spent most of the day pouring beer for the Rodeo booth and only enjoyed the fair myself for the last rather chilly hour. I generally love volunteering to serve at these events as the front line is so social and I get to see so many fun friends and frisky strangers. Although I couldn't find my ABC certification card—I tore up my desk for weeks and couldn't find it— so I was relegated to the back of the booth and the taps. When my shift was finally over, and the fog had chilled us in ernest, I was eager to change out of beer-soaked athletic shoes and shorts into boots and jeans—only to open my bag and find I had packed everything else but left my pants at home. It reminded me of the time I packed two left boots when volunteering for for Sundance at Pride. It was cold enough, and the idea of walking the fair in shorts, baggy shirt, and somewhat beer-soggy shoes in the cold leather streets abhorrent enough, that I thought about riding home, getting jeans, and cabbing back. Instead I just walked up to Market Street, bought some black jeans, and came back. Only when I was checking out and the clerk asked for ID did I find my APB certification stuck behind my organ donor card in my wallet. I'd had it the entire time. Grr.

But I did love working with my rodeo peeps, and even from the back of the booth I got to visit with some wonderful people, and still managed to get rather overstimulated by all of the furry eye candy and sexually-charged, light-hearted frivolity. I love this town. And sometimes, that is a wet, sticky sort of love.


I really don't understand the pearl-graspers and Puritans who are so against such a thing--never has holesome been so wholesome.

It's as wholesome as a petting zoo. It's just that it's a heavy petting zoo.

And you are welcome to feed the bears.