Who's Your Daddi

Rachel and I may never find righteousness. You would think by the crime fighting underworld we live in we would be as calloused as a naked cowboys ass. Before you roll your eyes you should know they do exist and I have a picture to prove it. For the most part Rachel and I are very hardened but today we added a layer of rough skin that proves we have seen it all. Without doubt we lived an entire life of debauchery packed into the hours of 7PM and 7AM on Sunday night.

The day began with the sun rising and me stretching my arms to heaven. I kissed the blue birds that flew in my window and whistled with them for only a moment because on this day we had a lot to do. I shooed them along while Rachel and I strapped our fanny packs around our waist, tucked our shirts into our khakis, buckled our braided leather belts, clipped our cell phones in a locked position and met the day with a mighty smile. We did not feel right about dressing as traditional ninjas on this day because we just wanted to fit in for once. "The Big Boss" lead us on a difficult scavenger hunt through the city where we had to find clues which lead us to Lombard Street, The Golden Gate Bridge, and concluded at The Antique Arcade Museum in Fisherman's Wharf. There we found what we had been lead to San Francisco to learn...the art of execution. Although Rachel felt it was a waste of our time I was very excited to take part in executioner training. I am not as skilled in the subject as Rachel so the refresher was helpful. We recorded a video to let rival Scooter Gangs know we really mean business and its a good thing we did. Later in the afternoon we found some rouges in a new form of transportation. This is a picture of Rachel threatening them.

By the end of the day it was time to paint the town red and after digging we found Folsom Festival. Folsom is a fetish festival and anything goes. We agreed we would be silent observers of the festival and the night began with a simple glass of wine at a cute wine bar named Blush on Castro then the party moved to Club 440 (a leather bar) where we watched the The Biggest Bulge contest. The rules for the biggest Bulge are simple.

1) Wear a jock strap or any underwear of your choosing.
2) Dance in front of a room full of ravaging men.
3) Have a large penis.

Oddly, Rachel won the contest but only because she blew our cover and showed our execution video to the announcer.

The night concluded at 4:00AM by Rachel allowing her new slave to be be untied...then she left with a porn star. A text message the following morning commanding me to call her by her new drag name "Tara Fie" let me know she was OK. I, on the other hand, woke up chained to an improvised toilet stall in a garage with a red bearded dude yelling I was his new bitch. After he took the leather underwear out of my mouth I explained I was already a bitch of Rachel's/Tara Fie. He is pictured here.

I can't remember the entire night and thankfully I met a new friend named Donnie Madden. Donnie, a leather daddy, and a cute military dude hung out with me and if my memory serves well we had a great night together. Donnie is one of LA's hottest photographers and was payed to photograph people of the festival. He has A LOT of photos of the event (not for the weak at heart) and you can see them all at www.DiegoFeliz.com. I have posted some from my recollection of the evening here.

Today was the first day I don't have the taste of leather in my mouth and the hand prints have dissipated from my ass. I remember asking Rachel not to slap so hard but she kept screaming "you have been Tera Fied". It all makes sense now.