COLLECTION: Something’s Fishy

Uh-oh, another fish themed post? Eesh… we’re playing with fire here, but it’s pure coincidence. Really, I swear. See this is my friend Corinne.



Corinne’s so cool, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Here are the bullet points though:
—She has a thing for guys in clown make-up. Really. Isn’t that odd? I mean of all the fetishes a person could have…
—She’s getting ready to go to hair-school to learn to color. You’re not going to believe this, but a top coloring school can cost up to $10Gs. Nuts right?
—And her new APT is ground level and, because there are a lot of clubs on her block, there’s a hot dog vendor that parks right outside. She can actually reach out her window and get a dirty-water-dog right from bed. That’s a dream come true in my book.


(NOTE: This picture wasn’t taken in her bedroom… but I love the faces she makes so I figured why not share)

Anyway Corinne recently broke-up with fiancé, a man whose name she’d tattooed rather conspicuously across the top of her butt. As she saw it, this only left three suitable options. She could cover it with an even lager tat. She could suffer through a painful series of laser treatments. Or she could buy a goldfish, name it Collin (that’s the Ex’s name) and insist she’d gotten the ink done in its honor. I don’t know, I’m sure there was more to it but ever since she told me about the hotdog cart at her new apartment I’ve had trouble concentrating on anything else. Bottom line though, I was recruited to escort her on her fish buying mission.


We went to PETCO.


Corinne loaded up on the ten-cent feeder fish.


I, on the other hand, invested in a $12 “bubble eye.” That’s right, a $12 goldfish. $25 in total with accessories.


Well worth it though, wouldn’t you say? He looks like something from South Park.


I did everything his care sheet called for, but two days later I was back at the store…


…he’d died in the night. Aaahhh, I know, I know, and right on the heels of the East River incident.


Luckily a $12 goldfish comes with a guarantee. I was back in business.


But as amused as I was exchanging a dead fish, Corinne was anything but. Oh, I guess there’s one last thing I forgot to tell you about C: If you see her on the street whatever you do, don’t call her Corinne. I repeat: DO NOT CALL HER CORINNE.


It’s Mistress Harlequin to you. Well, to me too on occasion… and when I told her about the fish, it was just such an occasion. See, as the name denotes, when Corinne, er, Harlequin isn’t shopping for fish or coloring hair, she's dominating men. Professionally. She’s a dominatrix.


Turns out the only thing she takes more serious than discipline and pet care is house cleaning. I’d like to think my debt has been paid to any and all fish who’ve ever been wronged, but I’m sure some of you out there would disagree.

And with that, let the frantic comment posting begin.

PS—A special thanks to another friend Jessa Blades who, on our very first night hanging out, was kind enough to take the last two pictures at Corinne's, er, Mistress Harlequin's dungeon.

Oh, wait, one more thing: I got a couple emails recently from people who say my pictures are too big and “heavy” (whatever that means, I guess it has something to do with the kb). Anyway, if you’d prefer smaller pictures on future posts, let me know, either in a comment or by emailing me. Thanks. Cool.