A Joint Foray Into Investigative Blog-Journalism
On Saturday the 30th of July,
Nadstown and
ausculture.com joined forces in order to provide our respective readers with a compelling, hard-hitting piece of reporting on the sex industry's day of days.
Sexpo Day is without a doubt the Second Most Magical Day Of The Year, the first being - and I'm sure
ausculture.com readers require no reminders- Bec & Lleyton Day (July 21st).
On Bec & Lleyton Day, Sydney was sprinkled with the metaphorical fairy dust of
amore and the emotional confetti of cheap celebrity romance. In contrast (but nearly as adorably)
Sexpo Day gushed discounted perfumed lubricant of erotic friendship all over the harbour city's special place. Or something. It was truly heart-warming.
Armed with only a notebook, a pen,
a camera and the last minute addition to our Sexpo 'crack' team of blog-journalists - a new Sydney blogtor who goes by the name
Donkey Oti - Nads and I dived head first into the Hordern Pavilion in order to give you the low down on stuff concerning the stuff down below. This is our story.
Main Objective* Compile a probing report on sheer magic and\or frightening tackiness of Sexpo.
Side Missions* Make as many double entendres as humanly possible
* Use the phrase "Sexpo Day is the Second Most Magical Day of the whole year!" as often - and loudly - as possible.
* Touch a rubber vagina
Jess says...Nadine and I arrived at
Fox Studios The Entertainment Quarter after a hearty brunch at around 2pm, and it's fair to say the air was thick with both anticipation and the body odour of excited, sweaty fat men. As we lined up to purchase tickets, I became a little frantic. I could hear 'Pour Some Sugar On Me' pumping out of a stereo on the other side of the barricade and it was clear that we were missing out on some hot stripping action. While I anxiously chewed and clawed at the tarpaulin covering the wire fence next to the ticket booth, Nads and Mr Oti focused on the real task at hand - paying to get us into Sexyville.
Tickets purchased, we triumphantly waved Nads' credit card receipt in the face of the topless man greeting us at the gate and merrily skipped passed security into a magical wonderland of erotica. Thank the sweet almighty, we managed to catch the end of a greased up musclehunk's (ahem) thrusty, energetic stripping set in the courtyard and enthusiastically whooped our appreciation. But there was no time to focus simply on strippers, oh no. Magical Sexpo Day is about more than cheap titillation. It's about friendship. It's about love. And most importantly, it's about finding things of various shapes and sizes and working out which hole you're meant to pop them in. Sweet.
Upon entering the Pavilion, we were immediately pounced upon by friendly Sexpo staff who overwhelmed us with happy smiles and brochures for discounted online porn site access. Nadine, being a bit of a social girl, quickly drifted over to the 'Have Your Own Sex Party' stall. The rep launched into a thrilling description of what these parties entail (Have party! Rep brings sex toys! People buy some! You get some freebies!) and within thirty seconds, Nads was hooked on the idea and frantically scribbling down her contact details. This is how convincing and smooth the staff at Sexpo can be.
From there, we hit the Karma Sutra wines stall - a veritable gold mine for bad jokes (eg: "Mr Oti, what sort of wine do you like?" "Oh, he'll have his
a little fruity thanks.") As we supped on free samples, we entered a competition to win... erm... I don't quite remember, truthfully... and in doing so, we had to list our favourite "sex move". I listed mine as the Angry Pirate, and while I didn't manage to catch a glimpse at what Nads wrote down, I was extremely curious when Donkey Oti wrote "Man In The Red Cave" or something along those lines. I'm drawing my own conclusions, and they ain't pretty.
Nads says..."and while I didn't manage to catch a glimpse at what Nads wrote down..." while jess was busy flirting with the vinyl-clad wine girl and implying that donkey oti was gay with his love for fruity wines, i was claiming the 'screaming eagle' to be my sexual position of choice. this was of course a blatant lie as i
can't manage to find enough willing participants to try it with me would NEVER participate in such a vulgar and degrading sexual act. i felt kinda bad for lying to the karma sutra people. i'm sure they'll get over it one day. they seem like strong folk. bless their hearts.
after the wine fun we continued browsing about the rest of the magical wonderland of skanks and sex stalls. i particularly enjoyed the dress up shops, filled to the brim with rubber nurses outfits and naughty schoolgirl ensembles (donkey oti's fantasy of choice, fyi laydeez). i was not convinced to buy any for myself - having already exceeded my rubber fantasy outfit quota for the month - but i suspect mr. oti picked up a certain something for himself when he excused himself to "go relieve himself". and by a "certain something", i mean a crotchless leather unitard with nipple hooks and adjoining chains. HOT!
soon we happened upon a table laden with shiny vibrators and, well, that was it really. i was disappointed that there was no baritone-voiced salesman standing out the front yelling "get your vibrators, get your vibrators, all stock must go today" into a microphone. there might as well have been considering the paddy's markets vibe of this particular stall. it was quite upsetting actually to see the poor little battery-operated bringers of joy being man-handled and thrown around like cheap whitegoods. but that wasn't the most upsetting thing about this stall. oh no, not at all.
what killed me about this stall, and most of sexpo in fact, was the fact that all vibrator stalls were manned by, well, men. HELLO!!! what's the deal, yo? when purchasing a new shiny toy i want to be informed of its tingly pleasures by someone with the same chromosomes as myself. i like my vibrator sellers with tits and a vadge. men are from mars, vibrators are from venus, people. of course there must be salesmen on hand to cater to the needs of the gay and anally experimental male market. but I refuse to be told how good my clit will feel when stimulated by the rabbit pearl 3000 by someone with an adams apple. SO WRONG!
Jess says...Now, let's be fair Ms Nadine. Despite his penis, the aforementioned salesfellow was really very good. You see, when Team Sexposé excitedly reached the table covered in discount vibrators, it became embarrassingly apparent that despite our rhapsodic delight upon reaching the much lauded Table Of Cheap Sex Toys, we were simple toy purchasing novices surrounded by a sea of eager and knowledgeable punters who knew what they wanted and where they wanted it to fit.
Nads and I appeared to be under the impression that the perfect way to suss out a vibrator was to flick the switch (so to speak) to the 'On' position, giggle maniacally at any parts that swivelled, and then wave it around in a menacing fashion like a throbbing light sabre. In the midst of our childish swordfight, a sales guy (who looked about twenty and appeared better suited to discussing the latest twists and turns in the
GPS Rugby competition than teaching young ladies like us about buzzing sex aids) grabbed my hand with all the intensity of a Latino gigolo, gazed into my eyes and earnestly thrust the wriggling Eclipse 7000 (Waterproof Edition) into my palm.
"You hold it like this..." he breathlessly whispered at me, "... and that way you can feel the clitoral stimulator against your thumb at the same time." I swooned girlishly. "Oh yes, I see. That's very... nice. Isn't it?" Nadine leant forward, somewhat hypnotised by the gentle hum of the boudoir instrument, and presented her own hand to our intense-but-wise young friend in order to cop a feel of her very own. Without breaking a sweat (or my gaze), he unwrapped the Rabbit Pearl 3000 with his spare paw and set Nads up for hand-to-vibe fun too. "We'll have seven!" we exclaimed after a few minutes, but after he disclosed there were no EFTPOS facilities at the stall, we snapped out of our pocket rocket-fondling trance and made our escape. Donkey Oti seemed relieved at this point. And also a little turned on. We continued on our journey.
Nads says...suddenly, over the p.a. system, a magical voice announced to the magical crowd that a magical show would be starting in six minutes.
"WE HAVE TO HURRY!" i screamed, as I began making my way towards the magical bleachers.
"but wait, I'm parched," said jess, indicating that we must take a detour via the refreshments stall.
"here here," agreed donkey oti.
"but we're going to miss out on seats." i wailed, "can't you wait?"
apparently they couldn't, apparently they were that fucking thirsty that they had to get a drink or face a horrible dry-mouthed death right there and then. WEAK!
and do you know what? They didn't even want beer! we get to the refreshment stall and the time-wasting sissies order waters. i was disgusted and ashamed. I don't know if i can ever tongue kiss either of the lame teetotallers again. okay, so i can. and i will.
finally we got ourselves back to the magical bleachers and found 3 seats in front of the magical stage. And then the magic happened...
the show began with two glitter-clad female strippers with hot bods but no rhythm (a la the impossible princess, our kylie) prancing around to 'diamonds are a girls best friend'. if only marilyn had had the good sense to incorporate a giant baton being thrust up her giney by a half-dressed stripper into the original routine. but i guess the pink dress and actual reference to diamonds seemed a better option at the time.
and then began the real action.
two words: bessie bardot.
two more words: vapid ho.
put them all in a sentence with a couple of conjoining words and bob's your uncle. or something.
back to you, jess.
Jess says...Thanks, Nads. May I add how much I adore that this joint foray into investigative blog-journalism has taken on a bit of a Channel Ten First At Five news team vibe. It moves me.
Here endeth Part I of our Sexpo Day Expo...sé.
What We Have Learned So Far!* How to hold a vibrator correctly whilst assessing its worth!
* 'Pour Some Sugar On Me' is an excellent song to strip to!
* When strippers yell out "Who wants to see more tits?", it is often a rhetorical question. Screaming out "MEEEEEEEEE!" instinctively whilst thousands of other Sexpo attendees remain quiet may embarrass you and may lead to Nads and Mr Oti snickering at your stupidity.
* Karma Sutra wines have charming sales staff.
* If you want Nads' contact details, claim to run a sex toy party related business.
* Men get flustered and a little aroused when they stand at a table covered in sex toys.
'Coming' Soon In Part II!* We visit the portable "peeps"!
* Silhouette porn!
* An important message about terrorism!
* We get ever closer to completing our rubber vagina mission!
See you tomorrow. Or maybe Thursday. We haven't decided yet.
