Just another Saturday at the Erotic Museum...

Keep scrolling for more like what's right below...

BUT before we get to the good stuff...

We started off the day innocently at Mont Parnasse. It's the only skyscraper in Paris. While it's a monstrosity to look it, but it has a pretty sweet view from the 56th floor. Disappointing in comparison to other views just because the other monuments are cooler to climb (not that I'm really complaining about the elevator instead of stairs). There is an outdoor terrace on the roof, pretty effing windy up there. I stupidly wore the same ill-fated dress that I wore on the roof of the Orsay Museum = big time flashing. Please notice pictures are all waist up. After I sufficiently offended France yet again, we went back to Bastille for some Lebanese food. The kefta sandwich (I know, I cheated on the schwarms) was to die for and the waiter loved us. He was from Algeria and made us speak French the entire time. He encouraged us to actually have conversations amongst ourselves in French. It kind of worked but made me realize how much I don’t know. Eek. Oh and he gave us free baklavah! J’adore.

Tour Eiffel, you're so fine.
You're so fine you blow my mind!

Breathtaking, admit it.

History quiz of the day: What building is this picture of?!
Hint: It houses a tomb of a past french ruler with short man syndrome...

Les Invalides!!
aka Napoleon Bonaparte's final resting place.
You'd know that if you read my other posts...

Don't worry, my dress is tucked in between my legs.
And yes, I am holding on for dear life. That shit is scary.

Dear Mom, Dad, Grandma, Bettie Locke, or any other person who still considers me their little girl,

If you've managed to get a hold of this blog (that I've been cleverly keeping from you) please do us both a favor and stop reading. Please, it's for your own good. I want to be able to look you in the eyes again someday.

Love,
Kim. Your little sweet, innocent darling daughter/ granddaughter/ arch nemesis (that's for you Bettie)

Back to the adventure...

(Umm. No thanks.)

We then scurried off to the Erotic Museum (!!!) which we’d bee WAITING to do on a Saturday because supposedly there’s a “surprise” on Saturday afternoons. Of course, I think TRANNY and put it on my “Do NOT Miss” list. This museum is 5 floors of sex. I’m not talking making love, I’m talking dirty, nastly, probably illegal F%*$ing. Believe me, it was not exciting but more revolting people actually think to put THAT, in there. The 5 floors depicted different cultures getting dirty. My favorites were the depictions of nuns. My least favorites were the paintings of families who had their young children "helping" with the act. It's funny seeing nuns and their bad "habit"s (sorry, another bad pun. had to) but it's not funny seeing an interactive, hands-on demonstration of sex between a family. Stick to the akward "Talk" people.

Umm yea. This was the tamest thing I could find.

Naughty Nun.
The next big sexy halloween costume, just wait

On the 3rd floor we noticed a middle aged man wearing leather boots, a black mask…and a leather diaper with a belt and zipper that went from butthole to bellybutton. Nothing else. We had a good giggle thinking “sweet, that’s the Saturday surprise!” and kept perusing the Kama Sutra sextion. We noticed that he followed us to the 4th floor and then the 5th as well. Hmm maybe leather diaper man was a fellow museum goer and we misjudged his outfit? Oh no, we were sooo wrong.

He then cornered us and proclaimed “Sit here, and I will perform for you”. We dind't really have any other options, so we sat down. Being the silly naive American girls we are, we get out our one dollar bills (not knowing really where I’d put them) and wait for others to gather for this “show”. I was hoping there’d be more dancers complete with booby tassels and whips to make it less awkward.

There were no booby tassels to cushion the blow.

The performance was just for us…in a small corner of the museum…and he intended to fully strip. At first I was intrigued thinking he had something even sillier on under the diaper, but as he groped himself and gyrated I almost threw up. I kept it down though (that baklavah was free, I couldn’t waste it!) He told us we could yell “stop” at any time. Christy looked over at me pleading to yell the safe word has he did his third bend and snap (we had a rear view) but I said - not sexually mind you - “wait a little longer, we can’t be rude!” He turned around to face us yet again, and began tugging at the zipper that would fully release the diaper.

"STOP! STOP! STOP!"

He giggled “I love my job”. Thank god it was over. Well, almost. We all regrouped and turned from crimson to normal colored again. I felt like my eyes had been violated in so many ways, but I wanted proof of this life changing dance soooo I asked for a picture. He sassily posed and we turn to leave..

but he says one more picture please...

turns to me hands me his leash and gets on his knees.

WHY ME, GOD?!

Instead of bolting like I should have, something inside me thought it felt so natural..so I stepped up and gave a sassy pose too. If only I had my leather boots and onesie. DAMN! After handing back the leash, I realized my place is not dancing with the leather diaper man, but it's somewhere far far away from him. I still can't sleep at night.

Photographic evidence of the mind molestation:

Why does he look like he's gonna eat me...or worse??
And why do I look like I'm ok with that?!
So many things wrong there.

Off to London town tomorrow...
but I still have posts to come on Giverny and the past week.
GET EXCITED!