Showing posts with label Blog Class. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Blog Class. Show all posts

Monday, March 24, 2008

Nazis in the Hood



So I've heard rumors about Nazis in Hochelaga. Anybody familiar with the neighborhood will likely recall having seen Anti Nazi Graffitti such as the Antifa tag above. I'd always thought this stuff was more the province of bored punks than a reaction to any real threat. This weekend though I found a recent flyer warning about "nazis dans le quartier". It even went so far as to point out their supposed hangout. While I'm not going to name or show the place until I've already gone for an evening (I don't need a stomping) it seems entirely possible.
Hopefully they're just dumb kids and not some organized part of the Aryan Nation or anything, as a friend of mine informed me "real Nazis will smell your catholic ass a mile away."

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Cinema L'amour pt II

We appreciated this lull, assuming that most of the weirdness had passed, our group relaxed, even joked a bit. By now the dudes on the screen had lost their shit and we were treated to a new scene, a fresh girl and a fresh location. A breeze block apartment complex with all weather carpeting. The girl wore a dog collar and an Alladin costume.
As the scene progressed the gentlemen made their way back to the front. Smoke break over, they were ready for another round. After a few minutes of reintegration and plot building (it turns out the young lady on the screen had “been a bad girl) something unexpected occurred. Two women showed up.
They looked bad, like the golden girls but with more meth and less soft focus. Unaccompanied by the owner and unfettered by ropes they walked to the front, something my two female companions 30 years their junior later admitted would have terrified them.
From where we sat they seemed to exchange friendly greetings with the huddle, hugs, kisses on the cheek, this wasn't a rare treat. Then they went wild, with blowjobs. Clearly silhouetted against other wild blowjobs we witnessed the makings of an elderly orgy.
The room got hot. The velvet curtains that twenty minutes ago had charmed me into staying now seemed grotesque. Coherent thought left me, the decision that this "might not be for me" took forever to make.
Through some intuitive instant we flew from our seats and followed the aisle to the velvet rope. The house lights were off and while fumbling for the latch in the dark I failed to notice a man blocking our exit. He was tall and fat, liver spots covered his face, and his pants were round his ankles. We'd been his entertainment.
The last moments we spent inside are a blur, maybe we pushed him, maybe he moved of his own accord, I can't recollect. We fled up the aisle, kicked through two sets of door, and were soon outside.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Cinema L'amour: Part I


Populated mostly by the old men that seem to orbit between the theater and Cafe Portugaise like they were planets, this place is everything your brain wants it to be. Which is exactly why you may not want to go there. The twenty minutes I spent in Cinema L'amour mark a surreal sexual experience that makes rape porn seem tender.
Tuesday is couples night, meaning you and your significant other get in for free. If you really must go choose this option so as to avoid dropping $20 on what may be a short visit. To L’amour’s credit the roped off couples section helps keep a respectable distance between you and the crowd of old men who’ll be jerking off to your girlfriend.
I went with some friends to screen Rockman Entertainment’s Blowjobs gone wild We were expecting “eat my black meat” but there’d been some sort of mix up and we were left to wile out our jungle fever for another day. Either way whatever they’re screening is extraneous to what ends up happening at the front of the theater.
A few minutes into BJGW a little huddle appeared up front, some of the old guys who were too shy to spank it in front of us kids settled for a circle jerk instead. We tried to run up front to verify this ritual but as soon as we tried to leave the couples area the porn manager ordered us to leave or sit back down.
The mutual masturbation continued for several more minutes. During that time the chick on screen went from sucking dick, to choking on it, to puking on it, and thankfully back to sucking. The tide of cum soon ebbed and it seemed a bunch of the grandpas had finished up for a while, a devoted core of oldies kept circle splooging as their less robust counterparts trickled outside.

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

24 Hour Falafel Blows up!

This is exactly it. Sometime on the night of the 4th the sign on the Falafel joint on Pins and St Laurent exploded the shit up. The formerly vibrant orange and yellow border that ringed the corner is now a charred mess of wires and busted neon. Despite a few stray wires hanging in the doorway these dudes are still open.