I played in my bean bags league last night. ‘Bags is a game similar to horseshoes in which teams of two people throw beanbags at a board with a hole in it. A bag in the hole is 3 points and a bag resting on the board is 1 point. If you ask someone in Indiana what this game is called they will tell you, with a straight face, cornholing. In any event, I was riding high after winning 3 out of 4 games, propelling myself into sole possession of 2nd place, so I didn’t want to go home just yet. My mom told me she was reading about a new sex shop, The Pleasure Chest ™ on Lincoln Avenue in my neighborhood that was very controversial, in that the residents didn’t want it there. Many of these shops are in the “Boys Town” area, a heavily gay area of Chicago on Halsted Street, and those residents don’t seem to mind, but my area of Chicago has a lot of families, and evidently some conservative ones.
So, I popped in to have a look-see. What I found was a very classy, clean, little dilly shop. I call these types of places dilly shops. I made it up, so, of course, I think it’s very funny. Maybe classy isn’t the right term for a place that had like 12 of those leather shorts with a hole for the one-eyed monster to poke through, but again, they were nicely displayed on little mannequins that only went from above the knee to the navel. They also had a ball spreader. What the hell is that for? I know, to spread one’s balls, but for what purpose? Is it to isolate each ball? Anyway, the shop was the LEAST sleazy dilly shop I’ve ever been in.
You know me, or maybe you don’t, but I’m a curious man and a man of the people, so I chatted up the gal with numerous piercings at the counter. She told me that the shop moved out of the Halsted area because customers were complaining about the lack of parking. I guess when you have a need for certain items time is of the essence, and hunting for a spot might not be high on your list of things to do. What is on that list is not a list I care to see, but I’m glad they can now get their parking spot, get their items, and start checking things off theirs lists. She also told me about the complaints of the residents, but I assured her that I am one resident who has no problem with her dilly shop or anything her dilly shop stands for. While I did just stop in there for kicks, I am also a paying customer. Mom, if you’re reading this, my items were VERY basic and I am in no way a sexual deviant, I swear. Now, if I did buy one of those ball spreaders, and I’m not saying I did, you would have yourself to blame for telling me about the dilly shop.
I played in my bean bags league last night. ‘Bags is a game similar to horseshoes in which teams of two people throw beanbags at a board with a hole in it. A bag in the hole is 3 points and a bag resting on the board is 1 point. If you ask someone in Indiana what this game is called they will tell you, with a straight face, cornholing. In any event, I was riding high after winning 3 out of 4 games, propelling myself into sole possession of 2nd place, so I didn’t want to go home just yet. My mom told me she was reading about a new sex shop, The Pleasure Chest ™ on Lincoln Avenue in my neighborhood that was very controversial, in that the residents didn’t want it there. Many of these shops are in the “Boys Town” area, a heavily gay area of Chicago on Halsted Street, and those residents don’t seem to mind, but my area of Chicago has a lot of families, and evidently some conservative ones.
So, I popped in to have a look-see. What I found was a very classy, clean, little dilly shop. I call these types of places dilly shops. I made it up, so, of course, I think it’s very funny. Maybe classy isn’t the right term for a place that had like 12 of those leather shorts with a hole for the one-eyed monster to poke through, but again, they were nicely displayed on little mannequins that only went from above the knee to the navel. They also had a ball spreader. What the hell is that for? I know, to spread one’s balls, but for what purpose? Is it to isolate each ball? Anyway, the shop was the LEAST sleazy dilly shop I’ve ever been in. 
You know me, or maybe you don’t, but I’m a curious man and a man of the people, so I chatted up the gal with numerous piercings at the counter. She told me that the shop moved out of the Halsted area because customers were complaining about the lack of parking. I guess when you have a need for certain items time is of the essence, and hunting for a spot might not be high on your list of things to do. What is on that list is not a list I care to see, but I’m glad they can now get their parking spot, get their items, and start checking things off theirs lists. She also told me about the complaints of the residents, but I assured her that I am one resident who has no problem with her dilly shop or anything her dilly shop stands for. While I did just stop in there for kicks, I am also a paying customer. Mom, if you’re reading this, my items were VERY basic and I am in no way a sexual deviant, I swear. Now, if I did buy one of those ball spreaders, and I’m not saying I did, you would have yourself to blame for telling me about the dilly shop.
12 comments:
I love me a good "dilly" shop. Never a better way to while away an hour :P
Oh I love a good dilly shop as well, but the words "Mom" and "ball spreader" should NEVER be used in the same paragraph.
Have you ever thought of who would find your toys if anything "happened" to you? My best gal pal and I have a deal that if one of us should ever find ourselves on the wrong end of a confrontion with the a bus, the other will immediately hot-foot it over to her digs to remove all incriminating evidence before the family gets there. No mother needs to be holding up a waterproof multifunction toy and asking Aunty Beryl what she thinks it could be.
What's worse than having your Mom motivate you to check out a dilly store? A father/daughter cornhole team.
Steph- Having a few laughs in one of those joints is my idea of a good time.
Lush- So, you have a designated "dilly" friend. Good to have. Yeah, you don't want to give Aunt Beryl a scare when she sees the big, black, veiny . . .
Jen- Whenever someone sinks one, I love yelling out "cornhole!" I guess you need to hear the voice that goes along with it to appreciate the humor.
I'm torn on which is worse, "Cornholing" or "beanbags" since given the context of this post each are equally as perverted.
And what's with the ball spreader?
I don't want to know what that thing does, Jenni. I do believe it's to create a bigger, ahem, by pulling things back, or apart, or, yuck. Nevermind.
Anon- did you BS a comment and then leave an add for online poker? I have news for you: Not enough people read my shitty little blog to make it a worth while advertisting space.
glad to hear that chicago has quaint dilly shops. the ones around these parts are emporiums right off the highway. there is no way to class up those babies.
Quaint. That is the perfect word. Thanks, Laura.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=MOedIfO4c3s&search=Daily%20Show%20Gayborhood
You have to past that address into your browser and watch this. It's Ed Helms from the Daily Show, and it's a similar topic. The title is "There Goes the Gayborhood."
"Designated Dilly Friend"??
There has to be a full post about that alone. Every gal needs her own DDF.
I used to work at 'The Pleasure Chest' in Sydney's Kings Cross district! Let me tell you..some colourful characters frequented there! Mainly because there was a 'shooting' gallery and rooms to hire by the half or hour upstairs, as well as a cruising joint and backrooms. My boyfriend at the time was not very fond of that job, and most of the time would hang around in the store with me. I saw it as nothing but a fun retail job, and it helped pay the bills whilst he wasn't working! Sydney Opera House by day, Pleasure Chest by night! And all from a good Catholic boy!
Rich, thanks for "cruising" by my page. Glad you could lend your expertise to the topic!
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