Whatever floats your boat

Now we’re in the lead-up to Gay Christmas -“ Mardi Gras -“ I made a promise not to talk too much about it this week.

Let’s face it, we are going to be saturated with Mardi Gras for the next month -“ let’s try and ease into it a little. I do have to comment on one thing re the launch.

Congratulations to the Mardi Gras organisers for trying something new with the whole secret location SMS thing. I’m the first to acknowledge you can’t please everyone. It added a whole new exciting aspect that I don’t think we have seen for a long time. And here comes my but -¦

Speaking on behalf of all the shift workers and western suburbs gay and lesbian families who make the annual trek into the city to watch the launch, or take time off/ start work later, we need more time, guys.

Finding out the day before to keep a certain time free, then confirming on the day, sends most of us into a tailspin. Thus I did not attend this year’s launch due to work commitments. And from all accounts I missed a fabulous evening.

So what sort of work did I get up to that stopped me from attending our Mardi Gras launch? I received a call about a week ago from the sister of a bride to-be requesting my attendance on Wildboys Afloat to liven up her group and be the envy of all of the other bridal parties.

I was told to arrive at the Docks Hotel at Darling Harbour at 6pm sharp and, being the prompt showgirl I am, I arrived at 5:50pm. To my amazement I was instantly surrounded by what looked like a sea of brides-to-be.

After waiting there for 30 minutes in the searing heat, we were herded onto two boats laden with sexy boys galore, armed with jugs of beer and wine. I knew from the onset this was going to be a positive experience -“ I’m never one to say no to a sexy boy. We were sat down and given the rules: have fun and be horny was basically the gist of the whole rule session.

After the standard harbour meal, we were liquored up and soon seated downstairs for the main show. I like to think of myself as a popular girl with the fellows, but it seemed as soon as the boat left the shore these girls turned into cock-hungry animals. Even Nanna was in for the grope here and there.

The strippers giggled and gyrated around the boat, on top of girl after girl, but all only stripping down to the regulation G-string or tiny towel, to my disappointment.

Though I didn’t get a private dance, my reasoning was I’m too pretty and the boys didn’t want to crack a woody from being too attracted to me. Wildboys Afloat was a hoot. Damn, I wish we could get married so I can have my hens’ night on a stripper boat.