Burlesque-esque

So, I went to a comedy theatre show thing at the Fringe Festival last night with Monique - ate dinner before hand (too much cheese) and watched a woman talk to us about kinky sex for an hour. Quite fun really... there was a pop quiz where we yelled "penis" or "vagina" to answer the questions and won sex toys. I didn't win any. Further audience participation: a man who was dressed in a pink cowboy costume and then encouraged to strip for us all. Nothing like seeing pink chaps go flying to define an evening really... But overall, not a super exciting play. As we left, Mon said that she sort of imagines that she might learn more about sex and shit than she already knew but, nothing really. EXCEPT, apparently Ricky Martin is into watersports. And then Mon told me kind of a funny story about Ricky Martin stealing George Michael's boy toy at a benefit concert of some description? In other news, I was listening to a Patti Smith track the other day and my (25 y.o) flatmate walked into the lounge and said - "What the hell is this? All that screaming - it's not really music is it?" To which I replied "Thanks Grandad. Check your birth certificate". Sometimes he really really bugs me. Actually it's more like often, and a fair amount. Especially when he criticises my music and then listens to John Denver tracks on repeat, really loudly, in his room, on a Saturday morning. Passion killer. This flat really isn't big enough for four adults. I always feel like people are all up in my space. And I"m not great at krumping, can't show them how that shit feels, MAAAAAAAN.