I’m not used to seeing boobies in the wild. Never mind dicks.<\/p>\n
So we went downtown to Grand Central Market to partake of what the “New York Times” claimed might be “The Best Iced Latte In America”.<\/a> Was it? What the hell do I know, the only coffee I consume is in yogurt. But I had a mocha, and there were little chocolate bits and the cookie we purchased was divine, with a complete layer of chocolate throughout. Remember David’s? This was just as good.<\/p>\n And after having our coffee, Felice consumed a fish taco. I stood in line for a goat tostada, but they were out of those, so I had a pork taco and a goat taco. They were only three bucks each. And huge.<\/p>\n And after satisfying our stomachs, we went out for a stroll.<\/p>\n And downtown L.A. is weird. It’s the hipsters, the homeless and the Latinos. You’re not sure whether to enjoy the rare SoCal urban environment, or whether to watch your wallet.<\/p>\n And I implored Felice to walk to the boutique ice cream place, right up from the Nickel Diner<\/a>, where we had such a memorable lunch last year, devouring the scrumptious potato chip cake. Alas, the samples were disappointing, if you’re going to sell high end ice cream, taste is everything, but texture is a close second, and this was grainy. I felt guilty for not purchasing a scoop, but I am an Angeleno, and we count our calories, we forsake sweets unless they truly hit the spot.<\/p>\n And from there, we decided to walk a few blocks to what the signs said was the Toy District, since Felice’s nephew works in the industry and keeps talking about the location. But after navigating the corner…<\/p>\n We were confronted with naked men, on bicycles.<\/p>\n Now I understand gay pride. I’ve seen naked guys. I figured this was just another demonstration.<\/p>\n And then I saw boobies.<\/p>\n I’m a guy, we guys can never get enough boobies.<\/p>\n Felice kept asking me to Google the happenings and I couldn’t take my eyes off the participants.<\/p>\n The guys were not only topless, but bottomless. You could see their wee-wees only inches away. And being a guy, I’m icked out by the visuals, but I’m always comparing and contrasting, wondering how I measure up. And I must say, for all the limp dicks, I did see some tiny units, that would make Howard Stern feel like a man, and unlike George on “Seinfeld,” on this hot nearly-summer day they couldn’t claim shrinkage.<\/p>\n And then came the women. Like I said, at first I thought it was a gay thing, men letting their freak flags fly.<\/p>\n And the first women weren’t topless. They had halter tops.<\/p>\n And then I saw breasts.<\/p>\n Tiny perky ones. Lumpy ones. Huge ones on skinny girls. It was a cornucopia of tits.<\/p>\n And being the red-blooded male I am, I surf my share of porn, I’ve seen pictures, it’s not like the sixties and seventies, the days of stag films and adult book shops. All you’ve got to do is Google.<\/p>\n But this was different. Because these were living, breathing women. Real people. Who chose to let it all hang out.<\/p>\n And I’m getting the sense that Felice wants to move on. But I can’t really let this opportunity pass. It’s like keeping a kid from candy. I wasn’t gonna cry if pulled away, but I was going to be disappointed.<\/p>\n And as the parade wound on, there were more and more women, it turned out the men were leading. And they had their coochie-coos on their bike seats. Didn’t this hurt?<\/p>\n Then again, on the ride home, Felice kept saying that the men’s penises must have made for an uncomfortable ride. I said this was not the case, that it was no worse than usual, that our balls…sat on the saddle. But didn’t women’s, er, vaginas, wasn’t that painful?<\/p>\n Felice said nope.<\/p>\n And they’ve got to negotiate traffic. The light keeps turning red. And as they round the corner we’re right there to greet them. Some had body paint, but so many women had those little barbells through their nipples. I guess it’s edge-cutting risk takers who ride naked downtown.<\/p>\n And to tell you the truth, I’m still titillated now.<\/p>\n And uncomfortable talking about it with Felice.<\/p>\n But she keeps bringing it up.<\/p>\n And it reminds me of that old song, “Too Many Fish In The Sea” – “short ones, tall ones, big ones, small ones.” Mostly unshaved. Swaying in the wind.<\/p>\n World Naked Bike Ride: Los Angeles<\/a><\/p>\n