Saturday, March 15, 2014

Sex Parties of the Rich and Famous

The Killing Kittens sex club from England is coming to the United States.  Did you get your invitation yet? 

The mail is slow around here.  Very, very slow.

The mail lady comes every day, but she comes late in the day.  I'm usually hanging around by the mailbox when she gets there.  She's the surly type, and I get the sense she doesn't like me much.

Come to think of it, I don't like her much, either.  I'm waiting for an important piece of mail, and all she ever brings is bills.  Once in a while, a check, but nothing compared to the constant onslaught of bills.

And really, I don't care about checks or bills.  The checks sit for months on the kitchen counter.  So do the bills.  Once in a while, I come home and something doesn't work anymore.  Then I dig out that bill and pay it.

Every few months I take the checks to the bank.  The teller says, "Patches, would you like to talk with my manager about how we can help you put your money to work?"

"No thanks," I say.  "My money is too lazy to work."

In the meantime, I'm waiting for an invitation - an invitation to a special, special party.


Killing Kittens Parties

Killing Kittens are notorious sex parties for the rich and famous, which thus far are held mostly in England.  The name pokes fun at the old wives' tale that every time a woman masturbates, God kills a kitten.  

You know?  I thought that one was true.

In any case, the Killing Kittens parties are based on the sex parties from the Stanley Kubrick movie "Eyes Wide Shut."  The parties are well attended by politicians, financiers, footballers (who actually play soccer and not football), actresses, actors, and all manner of beautiful people.

Party attendees wear masks, just like in the movie, so afterwards, no one has to know who they just had sex with.  Which is good, for obvious reasons.  

And what's more, the parties are coming to America.  The first Killing Kittens party in the United States will take place this May in Los Angeles at a "secret Hollywood mansion location."

These little shindigs are organized by a young lady named Emma Sayles.  Emma is from the English upper crust.  She is good friends with Kate Middleton, who is married to someone famous.  I'm not sure who, but you probably know.  Prince Charles, maybe.


Kate Middleton (left) walks down a London street with Emma Sayles (right), organizer of the Killing Kittens parties.  Maybe we'll, eh, come across Kate at one of the parties.  

Emma's parties are exclusive, to say the least.  Which creates a couple of problems.

They cost a fair amount to attend, for one.  But that's no barrier for me.  I've got all this money sitting around, out of work.  It needs something to do.  Busy hands are happy hands.

The other problem, which is a slightly higher barrier, is that you also have to be beautiful to attend.  When you apply for a party invitation (you can apply here), you have to send them a recent photograph of yourself.  

After all, if you're expecting to have sex with a bunch of rich and famous strangers, you'd better be good looking, right?

Hmmm.

In my case, I think I'm in a pretty good place.  Many people have told me that I bear more than a passing resemblance to the handsome Irish actor Colin Farrell.  And I mean right down to the anguished facial expressions (which will take place behind a mask, in any event).  

Also, I've been swimming nearly every day this winter, which is slowly giving me a body similar to that of the Olympic diver Greg Louganis, when he was a young gold medal winner.

So to help the Killing Kittens people reach their decision, I made the following composite photo, which I sent along with my application.


This is, yeah, a pretty accurate rendering of what I look like right now.
 
And now I'm waiting for my invitation to arrive.

And waiting.  

And waiting.  

But, as I indicated, the mail is slow around here.  Must be the budget cuts at the post office.

I haven't really started worrying yet.  We've still got some time before May.

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