Folsom 2013

Curt was back in the City for the weekend and I planned to take him to the Folsom Street Fair. Virgins are always fun. As host I decided not to volunteer at the Rodeo beer booth this year, but I got a slightly panicked message from Popper the day before that the Rodeo beer booth was severely understaffed. So I said I would show up at opening and work through 1:00 when Curt could find me and then we'd walk around after that. Out of context, the Folsom Street Fair is a bit daunting to the initiated. Which is it's own titillation.

How often does one get to say nonchalantly, "Meet me across from the naked twister stage."?


For the past several years, the Gay Rodeo has consistently been the top seller of beer at the fair. We show up, we work hard, and we get it done. We're adamant about checking IDs, every one, every time—and frankly I love using the phrase "You have to take it out and I have to touch it." as often as I can at Folsom—but we are six to 8 across and have a team pouring behind us. And at a fetish street fair, everybody loves a cowboy. We flirt for work and work for tips.


Hard work is rarely this much fun.

As the consistent top sellers (every year we run out of beer and they bring more kegs over from other booths), they put us smack-dab in the middle this year in the intersection of 10th and Folsom, and we were consistently slammed all day. Which is also great because that way the fair came to us. Lots of hotness too. And the new service perk: "Tipping comes with touching." Working the Rodeo booth is always such a nice way to spend the day at the fair with good friends and (mostly) in the shade. Lord that sun got brutal when it passed into the western sky.

I don't take many pics at Folsom anymore unless I am capturing friends or a particular frame catches my eye. Like this one. These people and their friends could not have been a sweeter bunch to talk to. And I thought this sight really just sums up everything about the Folsom Street Fair.


And maybe this one. Mostly because it somehow has the air of everyday about it.


Please note the happy preppy girl smiling in her hounds-tooth skirt and dress shirt.

Whenever people get all skittish and judgmental about San Francisco "freak" events like Folsom Street Fair, I enjoy pointing out that Folsom is the largest one-day outdoor public fair in the world. If it's not your thing, we can celebrate that too. If you are looking down your nose at this, get over it.   When it comes to kink and a thoughtful, open attitude towards sex, anything consensual is good-to-go play for grown-ups. If it makes you uncomfortable, that's artificial conditioning.

When Curtis did arrive we were able to do a lap and run into fun friends. So much friendly frisky fun people.





And of course my favorite cowboys and cowgirls.


It did get searing hot later in the day, especially facing the direct sunlight in a black hat and black shirt serving beer. The hat kept the sun off most of my face and out of my eyes, and Popper dutifully reminded us to reapply sunscreen as we could tell out forearms were burning. At some point I noticed my cheeks and lips were burning. The hat gave me some shade, but just to the ridge of my nose. I stepped back to put on some lip balm from my pocket, not thinking that of course it would by then be completely melted, and it smeared and spurted as I attempted to apply. I wiped my lips with a towel and went back to power serving. I stepped back to refresh myself and Rosemary and her boyfriend Chad thought it was funny and were impressed that i was so brazen and balls-out (as it were) for Folsom. I didn't know what they were talking about.

Chad was taking photos with his phone and showed me one. I doubled-over laughing. And later I thought how happy I am to be the kind of person who when shown how embarrassing they might look, has am immediate laughter response rather than shame or anger. Thanks to the awesome parents who taught me to be able to laugh at myself.

And c'mon, this was pretty hilarious. Folsom can be really... well... "slutty" sounds pejorative and this day is shame-free. But if the rag fits...


Pretty Folsom-appropriate I'd say for someone who doesn't own any fetish gear.

Later that night, someone was heard to ask me, "Your beard is so soft, what do you use on it? And why does it smell like coconut?"

Oh yeah, this happened

You can tell when the busy overwhelms me, or the ennui either I suppose, as the blog posts become fewer. Yes, Dore Alley happened, or specifically: The Up Your Alley Street Fair.

I've stopped taking lots of photos as I'm busy being social and if I wanted licentious pics from the day they are just an easy Google/Flickr search away. I took very few pics, but what I have are up on Flickr, and restricted as NSFW for the few which are.

Old news: This is what Folsom used to be, but is getting larger in population and losing the predominate percentage of participating attendees, and is following the course of Folsom. Still: much fun.


Again, I volunteered for the Rodeo beer both. And again that meant (1) getting there before the fair opened and (2) having lots of fun. Oh dear, lines of hot, half naked men vying for my attention.  Hello heavy petting zoo. HUGE thanks to Popper for being his usual awesome super fun time self while also being professional and efficient. You can see him here below hollering at me to get out of the way as I was blocking his photo of something sexy/naked/freaky going on behind me.


Kevin appeared and I took a break for the rest of the afternoon to carouse and make commentary. And make some new friends. My fetish gear was limited to my rodeo wear, which is its/mine own brand of fetish. The knee pads where a nice touch.


Drew also appeared, as did Tanya and Joseph, and then Little Joe. And we were invited to the boot party behind Stompers, where I was happy to see Missy as the special guest boot black.








Drew and I went to the Play-T Dance after party, which isn't my scene at all but we got discounted entry via the MovieBears, and I got to hang with my fun party people/event hosts. And the flagging was mesmerizing, with applause to Reindeer Jim.




Here is my friend's set of the party. No drama to narrate here. And Dore pics abound elsewhere on the internet.  NSFW.

Folsom 2012

I am still in the 2012 doldrums and am not as engaged and enthusiastic about most things as I used to be. This year Folsom held only a mild interest rather than being a capital-E Event for me, and so I was happy to volunteer with the Rodeo and serve beer to raise money for the Bay Area Chapter of the GSGRA.

Fun Todd and The Other Wilson (back from Seattle) hosted a lovely pre-Folsom Birthday Party Friday night, followed by a rather intense pre-Folsom Bearracuda (thank you Drew!)



Saturday night, Liam hosted another pre-Folsom party, after which most people went to Magnitude or another of the Folsom-themed circuit parties. Of those pics, which will not be shared, this is my favorite, and begs for a caption contest.



Isn't it embarassing when someone wears the same outfit to the party...

I called it a night rather early to prepare for a long day of staffing the beer booth. I will say, we Rodeo cowpersons have that shit DOWN. We had six or seven front liners, all certified to check IDs and serve beer at the Folsom Street Fair, and deft and adept others manning the pumps.



How efficient were we? For at least the second time, we were the highest grossing sellers. We went through 23 kegs (more had to be brought in repeatedly), and took in over $40,000 in sales and more than $2,000 in tips, making this our most profitable fundraising activity of the year (we get to keep 25% of the net).

Per state rules, everyone, everyone, must show ID, every time. And the ID has to be taken out of the wallet and we have to feel each one to verify its authenticity.

Or as I like to say to the endless line of scantily clad leather hotness: "You have to take it out and I have to touch it."

Folsom Street Fair

Where the rubber meets the road.

Zoology

So, I was called at the last minute to volunteer at a new fundraising attraction at the Folsom Street Fair: The Petting Zoo.  Or in this case, the Heavy Petting Zoo.  It was, in theory, a good idea.  There were a series of carnival-like tents with hay bales, a gate, and sexy sideshow stages out front, advertising hirsute, muscled go-go-ish sort of boys dressed in a variety of animal-themed furverted outfits inside, with a farmer out front enticing passerby's to venture inside the tent full of other fetish/scantily clad "animals" .  Fair-goers would donate $5 to enter, get their photo taken with the animals, and could heavy pet, fondle and get as frisky as the personal boundaries of the individual animals would allow (which at Folsom is saying something).   As it turns out, half of the animals didn't show up, everyone was late, and no one wanted to wait inside the tent  to entertain the paying customers when they could see their friends at the fair walking around outside.  While it was fun, and finically successful for the charities, for a couple of hours, it quickly devolved into a barnyard clustercluck.  Not that the animals were not beautiful, and purrfect for petting.  Especially my little NYC puppy who helped me out front.

While I do not have the muscled nor furry physique required to participate in such a Heavy Petting Zoo, I was recruited to stand out front and take donations and give out tickets.  I was asked if I could dress like a farmer.  Leather fetish gear I don't got.  Cowboys drag?  I got closets full.  It was raining all morning then the day turned to very humid, so the starched gingham quickly wilted.  Here I am relieving Steve as the frontman.  And the favorite of the full-costumed furries, PedoBear.


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As I did not have the same silent sales attributes as Steve, I thought I should take an active role in recruiting donations and entrants. I became a sort of carnival barker, and pretty much exhausted my repertoire of salacious animal puns. I cried out:

"Come visit the Heavy Petting Zoo! Re-live that first romance down on the farm!"
"Come visit the Petting Zoo! Pat the bunny! Spank the monkey!"
"Come visit the Petting Zoo, where you can get it straight from the horse's mouth!"
"Come visit the Petting Zoo! Learn a new meaning to the term hay, ride."
"Come visit the Petting Zoo! Inappropriately touch the animals!"
"Come visit the Petting Zoo! Milk the Mad Cow!"
"Come visit the Petting Zoo! Ask the horse, why the long face?"
"Come visit the Petting Zoo! Lie down with dogs! Get up with pleas!"
"Come visit the Petting Zoo! Eee, Aye, Eee, Aye, Ooooooh!"
"Come visit the Petting Zoo! Give the dog a bone!"

I actually got a bot light-headed from all the shouting. It was also humid. And there was vodka.

I did not take any more photos though—wish I had. But there were shutters flying all day and I am sure my herd and I are all over Flickr. These are the only other pics I took: My NightMare sidekick who was giving carriage rides, and this woman's whom I had to applaud for her ironic/obvious wear, knowing as many drag title/sash queens as I do.

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Let's talk dirty to the animals

This was to be my first Folsom Street Fair in years where I was not working or volunteering in some capacity. Generally, I really enjoy working the booze booths as that pretty much makes the fair come to me, but I wanted a year off.

No so fast there Mister! I've been pulled into volunteer and collect donations at the Petting Zoo. Although I expect it will be more of a Heavy Petting Zoo.

Please, do not feed the bears.

Folsom Weekend

It's already been a crazy week of Folsom/Fetish-related events. I'm still in my laying low period and have happily chilled as I watched the parade go by. Frankly, I think it's a victim of its own success and feel rather "meh" about the whole thing. I'll take Dore. That, and my current robust figure does not look so good in gear.

A friend posted to Facebook the other day asking his leather/muscle queen friends to stop calling their exciting new wardrobes for Folsom "outfits." (The butch term is "gear.")

In light (dark?) of the pending Folsom Street Fair, I was trying to explain the leather thing to someone last week. In my opinion, it comes down to this: It's really just a big game of "dress up," but it includes orgasms.

Happy 14th to the PoHo

As is his annual pre-Folsom tradition, Scott invited his regulars out on a Monday night to celebrate the 14th birthday of the Powerhouse.  I amazed and what a community, and what a wholesome sense of community and family, his little slightly seedily leather bar has fostered.

Congratulations Scott!

I loved that he had a rather large buffet of treats and cake for the birthday party, but 90% of the Patrons were on their pre-Folsom fast. Leather gear, in so many ways, can be unforgiving.

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.

Folsom scenes

I didn't take any photos at Folsom this year. Come to think of it, I don't think I've taken any photos at Folsom in years. As I said yesterday, "That's what Flickr is for."

I would like to have pics of me and my friends, or scenes particularly worth commentary, but sometimes these scenes are just best left to the professionals, like certain Friends of the Blog. (Photos likely restricted based on your own "safety" filter settings. If you don't want to look at photos of fetish play or good clean adult fun, then don't. It's really that simple. It's all on you.)

Honky Dore

As I mentioned earlier, Dore Alley/Up Your Alley was its usual low key fetish fun, even though it's getting bigger and bigger each year and is in danger of becoming the mess that if Folsom, whose original scene it was meant to sort of replicate. If you want all sorts of outlandish and debauched photos, head over to Flickr or try an unsafe Google search. I had no intentions of "documenting " this event and even forgot my camera entirely. I did, however, snap a few shots with the iPhone of scenes which amused or provoked me.

So here's some quick observations from my actually lovely day at Dore Alley —

First, here's a cute shot of Matthew.


I believe 99% of the photos ever taken of him are in leather or comic book-related garb. A truly pleasant surprise was hanging out with First Runner Up IML Lance Holman (old friend of the blog) and his IML blue-haired buddy visiting from L.A. and representing Oil Can Harry's, which is our SoCal gay country dance bar.

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Greg cracked me up because even though none of us had flashes on our camera phones, he still managed to have his eyes closed in every shot. Okay, now this is the typical Dore Alley festival goer.
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It's a safe place for not just fetish play, but fetish celebration. Most folks aren't actually all that into whatever fetish garb they adorn, but they are in the spirit and celebrating freedom of kink. This is a leather/sex fetish fair, so really, do you think this is the best street fair for a hipster hat vending booth? I'm thinking "wrong demographic."


WTF? I saw some crazy shit on Sunday, like these feather back piercings,


and I still think that the hipster hat booth was more fucked up. That, and the situation of a site called "cumhunt.com" next to the Stop AIDS booth.

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Then again, Jorge (above right) was there raising money for Stop AIDS by whipping and flogging people who paid to be chained to a post and, well, be flogged at whipped. To each his own. My "fetish" gear was just cowboy garb, and it was nice to walk around this year instead of running a Rodeo-benefiting beer booth. (I did get to spend some time with my boys at the Rodeo exhibit booth.) The man that totally turned my crank was in some subversive fetish wear: a perfectly tailored suit, double Windsor, cuff links, and he wore it well. Other notable sights among the pretty muscle, fur and leather (oh my):

Super hot straight couple, shopping for toys:

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Welt in a perfect handprint shape from a significant slap on the ass:

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The boy that was not only hot but clever—he had rigged just a belt and a bandanna from one hip to hold his business. He posed for me to take a photo when a more professional photographer got in there, took his pics close up, and then began to unwrap his model (so my first shot of the clever little sling is skewed, and overshadowed by the odd masked guy walking by).

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Those photos are set as 'restricted' on Flickr but online if you'd like to see them and have your safety settings off. They will not be posted here (have to keep some semblance of PG-13 here).

Finally, a fun shot of the guys working one of the beer booths. One guy had a serious shiner on his left eye. Check out the name tags.

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Upon closer inspection, the shiner was real. I am hoping the abuse was not.



Update: Michael Smith, local photographer whose images are consistently stunning, has uploaded his views from the day.