Alright, I know the forum’s already overloaded with NEST threads, so this will be the last one that I will start. In this document I will transcribe the many events of awesomeness that I witnessed during my stay. Unfortunately, I couldn’t be there for everything, so if you remember something I didn’t recollect here, feel free to list them.
James Mason Goes to Orientation
The reading of the rules is always awkward because nothing kills enthusiasm and gives the impression that there’s not gonna be any fun like this. This is bullshit because the rules make sense and you get used to them so fast that you’re having fun in no time without fear of a severe beatdown. But it’s hard to convince people of that as the reading keeps going. We used these rules at MTP, so I knew they were easy, but the room was a bit tense and something had to break the tension. Bella was leading the reading and was calling on volunteers to read them out loud like a true teacher. I decided I was going to take advantage of this and use it to break the ice.
Figuring I only had one shot at making a public impression, I tried desperately to find the proper voice to read the rules without mocking them. I suddenly got this image of a bored, stuffy British barrister reading off atrocious crimes as if they budget figures. Immediately, I knew the perfect voice to use: James Mason. So when I raised my hand, Bella (who didn’t know me well enough yet to know better) called on me to read rule no. 6, which I had decided was long enough. I stood up and started reading in James Mason’s voice, even pantomiming the fidgeting of little nose-bridge spectacles; I even interrupted myself to chastise a non-existent person to “put down that glass if you would please”. Needless to say, the room reacted better than I hoped, and my ruse succeeded in breaking the veil of ice brought on by the intimidating rules. I tried raising my hand later to try a Jerry Lewis Nutty Professor/Dr. Frink voice, but as soon as Bella saw me, she said “not you” in the way many teachers have said before and moved to someone else.
Post-Script: JonMath, being Canadian-British and of shaven head, must have thought I was either mocking him or distracting people and was little entertained by my performance—not that you’d ever notice, the man is so fucking suave and cool he maintains with ultimate class. Anyway, he decided after Rule 7 to address the effect the wording had on people, explaining the rules of permission as “think of it like sex” as far as considering other people’s perception and reaction of the intimacy of tickling. I couldn’t help myself:
AMN: Doesn’t that hold for some rather high expectations?
JonMath: (without missing a beat or a smile) Maybe YOUR expectations.
I laughed because I was expecting that response and thought it was funny. Then the whole room goes “OOOOOOH!” like in high school when someone got dissed old school style. When I realized I’d been zinged, I pulled a Carson and waited for the room to die down enough and said:
AMN: If you weren’t so awesome in Alien 3 I’d have something very unpleasant to say-
I couldn’t even finish because the room exploded in a roaring fit of laughter as no one expected that obscure reference as a joke. I thought it was fitting—and I cheated because I used it casually the night before at Denny’s—and not too offensive. Good times.
LeeAllure Paralyzes Mairead
Let me demonstrate the POWER that is LeeAllure. I’ll never forget this gem of a moment. Our biggest S.A.M., Mairead—a.k.a. TicklishGiggle—has a neck with +11 sensitivity, and if you’ve ever seen her tickled in real-life, she bares her teeth and halfheartedly shrugs away after a few seconds. Following the Bondage 101 class, Mairead was hanging around with a bunch of us, including LeeAllure, and the subject of her neck came up. Now, the thing about LeeAllure is that once you MENTION another person’s ticklishness, it’s too late, because it’s in her ear and growing. No sooner had we brought this up than Lee’s attention (and her head) turns to face her; Mairead is sitting down facing us, but her eyes move over and she sees Lee looking at her, and with just a look and that smile of hers, Lee paralyzes Mairead. She literally CAN-NOT MOVE. So Lee starts strolling a mere 5 steps over and by this time, Giggle’s trembling and shaking and with her hands at her sides and an ear-splitting grin on her face. Lee stops right beside her and Mairead does the whole “if I can’t see her, she’s not there” thing by scrunching her eyes shut, and Lee reaches up, clutches the back of her hair, and TILTS HER HEAD ALL THE WAY BACK. And I’m giddy as hell at this point just watching a master toy with her prey. Once she’s got her head back, Lee goes to work all along her neck gliding and fluttering away and Mairead…STILL, DOES NOT MOVE! After about 15 seconds, Lee stops and walks away saying: “See, it’s not my fault her neck is so ticklish.”
Now THAT’S power.
Bondage 101 with JonMath and KittenToes
I consider myself a fairly intelligent man, but I felt like a 5 year old seeing magic tricks when I took this first seminar of the weekend. First of all, you couldn’t ask for a classier act than JonMath and Kitten Toes because 1) they look good enough to capture your attention, and 2) they explain the most intricate steps as if they’re the easiest things in the world, and 3)…they’re right. In the course of half-an-hour (the other half consisted of the poor duo being pelted with nit-picking questions and ridiculous Amnesiac comments), they showed how you could build a basic bondage kit for $30-50 with stuff from Home Depot and how to find, cut, and tie knots that hold but don’t hurt AND explain the philosophy behind them. If these two had been teaching high school algebra, the dumbest kid in class would qualify for Math Club, it was THAT effective. I had to ruin it partially of course by concluding a hog-tying demonstration with the following phrase: “I’ll pay you a dollar if you can pick [Kitten] up like a suitcase like that.” Nevertheless, they were both sports.
And it would be a grave injustice to not mention JonMath’s patented “How not to tie up a girl” demonstration. I won’t even ruin it by describing it because it would deprive other newbies of the experience, but suffice to say I was laughing so hard during the moment that I practically fell out of my chair.
The Hot Tub Raspberry Massacre
There was a pool party at the main hotel on Saturday night, and since most people who knew each other were hanging out elsewhere doing “elsethings”, I went to see if it was going to be interesting. I went fully clothed because nobody needs to be exposed to MY body in a swimsuit, and halfway expected to leave 5 minutes in out of boredom. WRONG! WRONG, MAN! At least a dozen folks were in there, half in the hot tub, the other half in the pool, chucking water-soaked pool toys at each other in a game that as far as I can tell, had no point. I was drawn over to the hot tub to retrieve toys lest anyone get the idea of chucking them at me, and once I got close, the lovely, luscious, and laughing Alyson asked me why I wasn’t getting in; apparently, having man-boobs wasn’t a good excuse to not get in. So finally she splashes me and IT. IS. ON. Without ANY concern about getting wet, I poke and prod her to the tile floor and start working her over.
Let me tell ya, Alyson’s got some endurance, man. I threw everything I had at her, and she took it without any struggling or resistance; she just stayed down laughing and jiggling in this ADORABLE breathless cackle she has—I wish I brought my damn tape recorder for it—and kept going. She reminded me a lot of GiggleGal from MTP so I decided to use on her what worked on GG: raspberries. Unlimited raspberries. Armpits, belly, inner thighs, feet, even neck for about 23 minutes of almost non-stop raspberry torment. I had to keep dipping into the hot tub to splash water on her as a makeshift oil, but it worked wonders. By the time I ran out of breath, I was soaking wet, didn’t care, and had no breath left. The pool party ended for me when Classy splashed me in the face with water, and skedaddled the fuck out when I began dramatically preparing myself to dive in and teach her a lesson. One of these days Classy…one of these days…
Unfortunately, thanks to TSA regs, I couldn’t bring a razor and a day’s long stubble chafed poor Alyson in the armpits a little too much for full exploitation on Sunday. But as long as her outfits were thin/thick enough, the raspberry attacks continued. I intend to do the more next year. After this, I went and played with Tickleshotel and TickleJen, where my nearly exhausted raspberry powers were used for evil once again.
Reflexology Tic-Tac-Toe
It began as a simple reflexology and massage class until something went terribly right! Affectionate Dan, resident teddy bear and disciplinarian of NEST sought to hold a serious and enlightening seminar on post-tickling massage and reflexology. Unfortunately, his partner didn’t show up and one of our attendees well versed in reflexology lent his hands to demonstrate for us…with lil Tickleshotel as a subject. I don’t know what was more fun, learning stuff or hearing the instructor make vain commands for her to “stop laughing” during the demo. I moved to get a better look, and just then, he began describing the 6 sections of the foot and how they worked, and how they were divided by a line. This is where the scene changes. I decided to ask if we should define the line with the aid of ink…from a ballpoint pen. So I drew a line straight down the middle of her teeny foot, and had to redo it because it wasn’t dark enough. Within seconds, Hotel lost any composure and we were inventing excuses to add more lines to her foot. Someone commented that the result looked like a tic-tac-toe board.
So we played tic-tac-toe. On her feet.
LeeAllure, in that way we sadists have of impressing ideas while pretending to express concern asked “Is that a 2.5mm ultra-fine-tipped ballpoint pen?” It wasn’t but I said “yes” anyway. No sooner had I complained about running out of ink than Lee was already there with a handful of additional pens. Such a thoughtful lady, she is. Someone also had the foresight to bring a felt-tipped calligraphy pen, and the generosity to lend it to me, and the evilness to let me use it. After about 5 minutes or so, Hotel got down and the session started over with real massage using our lovely, perky, and kicky Jayne as the subject. Unfortunately, we behaved ourselves during this time and let our instructor demonstrate. After a while, Alchemy brought up how from personal experience he knew the healing powers of massage and touch, and a thoughtful and enlightened discussion about it came up. We soon realized we were neglecting Jayne, but it didn’t matter…our instructor had relaxed her to sleep.
Room 225
Whatever you do…DO NOT GO IN ROOM 225! There’s Geeks in there! I should know, I was there. Chaneda set up shop in Room 225 which became the official NEST poker parlor populated by the Lovely Alyson, the gigantic ASU, the indispensable James Bond, the inimitable Avenger 314, Ivory Tickler, our transatlantic wonder-boy Italian_Touch, the quiet but contemplative Azrael, and our lovely little lady lee Jayne. I wasn’t there for all of it, and The Order of the Sandwich didn’t form until Sunday night (and they can tell it better than I can), but after swimming and play with Jen, I found these guys hanging out with a Hibachi smoking on the floor (the vibrator, not the stove)—and I’m still sorry I missed that—and everyone was sitting around playing poker with the cursed Casino Royale deck. I tended to stick to the bed since the fold-out table was taken, which turned out to be excellent for when Jayne kicked off her shoes and took up residence on the mattress as well, I was in an optimum position. But woe to any man who tries to take on Jayne alone. She has the strength of 50 oxen in her legs and the slightest touch between the toes with a Sonicare sends her into a shrieking WWE event. Not since 4Pawz threw five of us around at GLAT have I seen so ferociously strong a ‘lee, and it took 3 of us merely to hold her leg still enough to go to work. Even then, we couldn’t hold her feet still enough to drive her mad.
But we had ourselves a little treat. Jayne is as ticklish on the palms of her hand as Mairead is on her neck, or Bella in the armpits. Since her legs were flailing sticks of doom—Italian Touch missed a shot in the face by mere millimeters—we settled for her hands. With Avenger and his trusty hands and I with my Magic Sonicare, we took to her palms AND her feet with gleefully shrieky results. Oh she was fun and adorable. But alas, Avenger and Alyson had to disperse elsewhere on a walk, the card game folded, and the rest of us were left to watch King Kong (the 1976 version) on HBO Family (what a fucking pointless channel that is) until about 2:30 in the morning when we called it a night.
With everyone tired, I knew the play was done, but undaunted, I asked Jayne if she was tired and she said “yes.” I then put on my best sad face and pulled my Sonicare up and whimpered “So…so…so no more. *bzzzzzzzzz*?” She simply shook her head and I drooped the Sonicare. Italian burst out laughing and just about flew off the bed. “I can’t believe it! You actually got the toothbrush to emote! I swear I saw a tear fall from it!” Just my luck. I put in the effort and my prop gets the accolades.
Max Speer’s MST3K Vintage Theater
Max Speer was beautiful enough to hold a vintage tickling video marathon in one of the rooms during the weekend. The marathon only lasted 2 hours, and he was fast-forwarding through most of it, but it was a treat to see what life was like back in the Age of Analog. Originally, the room was nearly empty on account of the hotel TV’s not having the input ports for a player, so after a 40 minute delay so that Max could go out and BUY a DVD/VHS combo machine for the exhibition, the room grew past standing room only. Veterans from as far back as pre-NEST traded comments, and musings, and reminiscences about long-gone producers, legendary pioneering videos, and the Byzantine structure of the old mail-order correspondence and trade system, while I sat back and felt like a damn spoiled rotten kid who didn’t have to wade 15 miles through the snow and wait 4 months for his tickling media. I tried to talk Max into building an archive for a Community Historical Library, but have yet to hear anything back on that. So, in between the memories, it quickly became an MST3K of sorts with everybody chiming in with their witty and humorous commentaries on the videos and what was going on. We’ve come a long way in the medium, but the stuff was indeed pretty good for what was available then.
Balloon Animal Improv Theater with Amnesiac & Avenger
Snail Shell and some others had taken it upon themselves to try a DIY balloon animal kit in the lobby of the hotel. The results were less than spectacular. What WAS spectacular was the insane burst of inspiration that began haphazardly when I walked down and picked one of them up. Sure enough, the wheels in my head started turning, and I asked “What is this?” Mairead, who was there with Ayla NY, Jeff and Affectionate Dan took it and said “It’s a swan.” Sure enough, it was. But I wasn’t happy with that. I extended the neck, flattened it out and revealed: “An exterior view of a hermaphrodite!” Avenger, thinking he could best me, took it and tried his own thing. Before you know it, it was a Who’s Line Is It Anyway with balloon animal props…only half as funny. Although we both had some zingers, we all had some real groaners, mine being the most X-rated and his being the poorer timed, I nevertheless trumped the supernaturally gifted trivia winner with my renditions of a band saw, a Spanish helmet, a water witch, a snail from Chernobyl, and a rooster with a throat infection. The others sat idly by in either awe or horror—they kinda look the same after a while—and the entire 45 minute session can be summed up in Jeff’s immortal words: “Jesus Christ, they’re still going?!”
Eventually it got off the animals and went into a very brief Monty Python quote-a-thon, which Avenger dropped out of because he doesn’t watch Monty Python and needs to be beaten severely with a 16-ton weight. So it turned into dirty joke interval period, which I won because of my vast repository of Redd Foxx comedy albums. Needless to say, it wasn’t Jeff’s or Mairead’s cup of tea, so we both packed it after a while to which Avenger graciously acknowledged my superior comedic and geek skills and said “Good game.” Sadly, we never had the chance to engage in another spontaneous act of anarchistic guerrilla comedy that weekend. At least not with a captive audience whose asses were bonded to the furniture with wacky glue like they were that evening.
The Kidnapping of IrishGirl 5
Some people remember where they were on 9/11; others remember when their band opened for Nirvana; a few remember where they were sitting when the OJ verdict came in. Me? I’ll always remember where I was when IrishGirl got kidnapped. This was one of the awesomest things I have ever seen. I have ERASED childhood memories to burn this event into my brain. As many of you have heard, there were pre-scheduled kidnapping scenarios ‘lees signed up for where they would be kidnapped at random by a group of “thugs” taken to a discreet location and worked on mercilessly for certain duration. You sometimes got to see this happen as a group of people in balaclavas and ski masks marching in a group with a purpose. Well, I happened to see this too at the venue and couldn’t resist watching. Little did I know how legendary it would be.
I saw the troupe marching towards the back room at the venue and one of them was a slender body with a light corset whom I recognized as LeeAllure and thought “Oh I GOTTA see this!” I didn’t see the ‘nap, but I saw the 6 bodies carrying a hooded body in their clutches like a sack of flour and recognized the white shirt with green swim-top and realized: “That’s IrishGirl!” They carted her over to the last of a row of “huts” on location where a horrific fate awaited her; apparently, this was big news because a crowd began to draw around. Bella came walking out of the back room with a shocked look on her face, shaking her head saying: “I was not ready for that!” Well, lo and behold, this final hut had a window on it the size of a widescreen TV. I hurried my ass over and slid into place behind it to witness the glorious spectacle.
There, inside was JonMath, who had switched out of his royal Russian aristocrat’s costume for an authentic KGB political uniform complete with sickle-and-hammer emblems; he was already in character and suave as hell. Little Irish was intimidated by the scene because as JonMath began his “scene” as interrogator, she tried incredibly futiley to suppress a smile and tried looking away from him and we onlookers to compose herself. The captors were all legendary ‘lers of the finest stock, and lined up against the wall still in masks: LeeAllure, MTP Jeff, TcklChcgo, Avenger, etc. All awaiting orders. I couldn’t hear too well until the person next to me moved away, but apparently the scenario was that IrishGirl was a hapless American citizen in possession of secret plans…to the location of the officers latrine. And to extract the information in accordance with the Geneva Convention, they had a special interrogation technique that didn’t leave marks. This sounds familiar. JonMath was in top form with an over top HILARIOUS fake Russian accent that was stripping away at everyone’s composure, not just Irish; he was to Russian accents what Kenneth Mars is to German ones; put a monocle on him and he could have been Col. Klink. Eventually, you KNOW Irish is going to end up on the table in there, and sure enough, they tied her down fully stretched out and completely vulnerable.
At this point, I’m shaking and trembling with excitement, but true to my film school training, I didn’t break the scene, and graciously enough, neither did anyone else who was there watching. Each ‘ler took up a position around her and acted on a specific body part upon JonMath’s command, which he drew out as best he could to further anticipation. Irish tried to resist, but whenever her sensitivity died out, JonMath would back her again with random comments like “Tell us where is pwans to latreen so our officers may go pee-pee!” and she would lose it again. Any time you hear JonMath describing in detail what is going on, what is going to happen, and concluding his descriptions with requests for the plans so “we know where to shit!” nobody’s having a straight face. When Irish wasn’t laughing silently, she was yelping out “Fuck! Shit! I Don’t KNOW!” Then came the blindfold. THEN came the baby oil. THEN came the musical ‘lers switching around. When the pinwheel was taken out and run across her feet, she was done.
But nobody else was. The final straw came with 5 minutes of non-stop tickling: Viper took the foot with the pinwheel, Lee got the inner thighs, Avenger got the belly and ribs, while Jeff took the armpits, and TcklChcgo got the neck—which is the fucking oil field of ticklish spots on Irish. Finally she gave in and said “It’s by the rock outside camp!” to which JonMath sent Avenger to “look”. He returned and said “Comrade general, the plans are not there!”
“Well, forget it then. We dig new hole in ground.” So the poor thing went through all that for nothing. And yet I can’t seem to feel the least bit sorry for her. Tee hee.
Bella Gotz Strong-Ass Feetz!
A few months ago when I got into NEST, I bought a Sonicare on Amazon for $54, and my investment paid off with interest. I was like Clint Eastwood with that Sonicare, whipping it out of my back pocket and offering it to the participants in various plays when I wasn’t allowed in. And many were happy to oblige, much to the chagrin of the ‘lees on the receiving end. I’m not quite sure how I got involved, but I’m pretty sure it was because I saw Bella getting tied up to the railroad-tie style suspension rack on the floor, the insidious DVNC and “C” doing the intricate tying, when they proffered if I would like to assist. I mentioned that I knew nothing about tying people up and they simply relegated me to holding little Bella up and making sure her hands stayed apart. Apparently, little Bella can get out of ANY bondage known to man and God provided her hands go unsupervised so I was commissioned to watch her hands while they went to work. I got to fulfill my years-long dream of helping Bella suffer. Of course I joined in.
Here’s the thing aboot Bella: she doesn’t become a brat until AFTER you tie her up. And she likes to be worked on with blindfolds, so you have this adorable little sub wearing a blindfold with this enormous smile dancing to her own little music as she’s being restrained. From that point on, her voice was soft widdle whimper who took quite a pelting from “C” (who I swear must have been in Midnight Express given the look on his face) while I held her to me providing my own comedic dom one-liners: “The beating will continue until morale improves” sort of thing.
Once she was in her sub-space, her feet were unspeakably ticklish. I had fun with her ribs and her armpits, which were just a deliciously sensitive as I’d hoped they’d be, and went after her unrestrained feet. Now apparently, there can be a lot of muscle packed into a 4’11” frame, and in Bella it was all in her legs. No sooner did I get down there to hold one foot to work on with my pocket-sized knobby comb then she threw me off my balance. It was like being kicked by a mule. Prying her feet off the floor was like wrestling with a piston, and I expended all my strength just to get it up—I didn’t have anything left to hold it. Tired of this, I took out my trusty Sonicare from my back pocket and started applying that. I was immediately met with “What the hell is that!” and a swift leg throw that left me landing on my tuchus. I tried this over and over again, but each time it was a losing battle. After the third or fourth time, I put my tools away and tried to use my feet, but Bella threw me so hard I tried to hold on and got dragged under her where she actually fucking TRAMPLED me!
I gave up my endeavors after that, and that’s when I decided to take up the role of Bella Holder for “C” while he opened his bag of tricks. Many of them were simple tools that caused more noise than pain, but since Bella couldn’t see, I decided to get my revenge by protesting viciously t each item: “Oh hell no, hell no! Man you can’t…Goddamn man put that down, that’s too mean!” And the psych-out worked. Bella later showed up at my hotel room later that evening and I got another shot at her feet until I discovered something better: her belly button. And THIS time, it was her fighting ME to pry my appendage away, not the other way around. My thumbs and forefinger were sore as hell, but rarely is pain so worth it.
JonMath and KittenToes
What a way to end an evening I’ll tell ya. First of all, JonMath hammers us with his superior taste in style through his wardrobe. Then, he shows us his pristine acting chops in the IrishGirl kidnapping scenario. Now to conclude the evening, he decides to provide us with an exhibition in skill with his exclusive lee Kitten Toes on the venue main floor. Once the table is set up and Kitten restrained in only the requisite amount of clothing, he totally gets into character slowly and smoothly by adjusting his shirt sleeves and hands for about 2 minutes. Then, in an astounding display of his psychological mind-fuck powers, he extends his arm in a grand gesture…and extends one…simple…finger. And slowly…ever so slowly, he brings that finger down…down…dooooooooooooown until Kitten is squirming and squeaking before he’s even touched her. And when he finally did, the glass in the building vibrated. Kitten was so deliciously ticklish and so sensitive to the touch, that even the people nearby had to plug their ears and turn away at times to withstand the shriek. But for those of us further back watching from a distance, we were able to take it in with more appreciation. JonMath played her like Rachmaninoff with a grand piano, and we all felt humbled and novice again watching his divine dexterity make a quivering mass of girlflesh out of KittenToes. After literally 45 minutes of non-stop tickling, I know that I felt like I was coming off of the full solo section of “Shine on You Crazy Diamond” but couldn’t press repeat for another trip.
When he let her up, she was limper than a wet noodle (which is called "ragdolling"), actually collapsed when she shuffled off the table—she was caught by the fast reflexes of JonMath and DVNC—and as her body rebooted, I sauntered over to the table, looked at JonMath…and bowed. Nothing less would do for the master.
If they ever make a WKYW movie one day, JonMath could play Touch EASILY.
Other Mentions:
LeeAllure spent a great deal of time at the door on Sunday making sure everybody was getting in. When I approached her to ask about a photo idea I had, TcklChgo was walking by with the venerable and vulnerable Nischa in tow, Lee dropped the giant boots she had taken off and pounced on her. Coming to her rescue, Chgo wrapped her arms in his so she wouldn’t hurt herself falling down or squirming as Lee attacked her belly, hips and ribs. With friends like these…
Speaking of Lee, here’s another detail of how evil she is. On Sunday, I was getting some snackies from the snack table and asked her why she wore a coat instead of a cape or cloak. Once she explained why, it was her turn to ask ME a question:
LEE: Are you ticklish?
AMN: Well, yeah, but I’m not a ‘lee.
LEE: That wasn’t the question.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVIL woman! It’s chicks like her and Shirley Manson that make subbing sound like a fun thing.
War of the Giants
Appearances can be deceiving online from in person. We all knew that ASU was a giant because the internet shook when he got up to go to the fridge, but we never counted on Mairead to be near Amazonian heights herself. Although she claims to be 5’7” me and ASU and everybody else said “bullshit” and I lay claim that she’s 5’10” to which she vehemently contests. This took a turn for the humorous at the venue after The Brat finished turning in her raffle ticket earnings and sat down. ASU quickly joined in and the topic of size came up yet again and the two giants of NEST began a verbal war trying to top the other on height zingers. My personal favorite was when Mairead, with her irresistibly challenging grin, dismissed ASU with “Why don’t you eat an ox or something and pick your teeth with the horns?” ASU countered by taking Mairead’s Chicago accent and making with the Edward G. Robinson impressions. We then got sidetracked and argued whether we would actually vote for a presidential candidate on the sole basis that he talked like that.
CANDIDATE/ASU: Yah, see? I got a cigar in one hand and my finger on the button see? We’re gonna do it my way see? Yah!
Things kind of got off track from there with an impromptu arm-wrestling war between the two that ended in defeat for her and a few thigh squeezles that she batted away with growls—yes, fucking GROWLS—and fisticuff motions.
Good times see? Yah.
Milagros the Lucky Bastard
This has already been mentioned, but it’s so fucking cool it has to be said again. This was the fucking Hollywood miracle ending to every sports or kid-with-a-terminal-illness-at-graduation movie ever made. The final prize for the raffle was a 2-on-1 tickle torture session with two lovely lady models from MP productions who were there to publicize their website. One look at these chicks made you wanna go sub just for the chance of making it. The final ticket was called and after a slight delay, Milagros stepped forward with the winning ticket.
The room fucking exploded in applause. It was that magical Mighty Ducks moment and people fucking gave him a standing ovation (myself included) as he was led off to the staging area by the models. Truly a moment for the history books of NEST for Milagros…the luckiest bastard of the entire weekend.
Alas, I could not be there for everything and there's plenty of fun and wonderful strangeness that I didn't get to see. So, for all of you out there with stories to tell, what do YOU recall from NEST '07 that you'd like to share with us all?
James Mason Goes to Orientation
The reading of the rules is always awkward because nothing kills enthusiasm and gives the impression that there’s not gonna be any fun like this. This is bullshit because the rules make sense and you get used to them so fast that you’re having fun in no time without fear of a severe beatdown. But it’s hard to convince people of that as the reading keeps going. We used these rules at MTP, so I knew they were easy, but the room was a bit tense and something had to break the tension. Bella was leading the reading and was calling on volunteers to read them out loud like a true teacher. I decided I was going to take advantage of this and use it to break the ice.
Figuring I only had one shot at making a public impression, I tried desperately to find the proper voice to read the rules without mocking them. I suddenly got this image of a bored, stuffy British barrister reading off atrocious crimes as if they budget figures. Immediately, I knew the perfect voice to use: James Mason. So when I raised my hand, Bella (who didn’t know me well enough yet to know better) called on me to read rule no. 6, which I had decided was long enough. I stood up and started reading in James Mason’s voice, even pantomiming the fidgeting of little nose-bridge spectacles; I even interrupted myself to chastise a non-existent person to “put down that glass if you would please”. Needless to say, the room reacted better than I hoped, and my ruse succeeded in breaking the veil of ice brought on by the intimidating rules. I tried raising my hand later to try a Jerry Lewis Nutty Professor/Dr. Frink voice, but as soon as Bella saw me, she said “not you” in the way many teachers have said before and moved to someone else.
Post-Script: JonMath, being Canadian-British and of shaven head, must have thought I was either mocking him or distracting people and was little entertained by my performance—not that you’d ever notice, the man is so fucking suave and cool he maintains with ultimate class. Anyway, he decided after Rule 7 to address the effect the wording had on people, explaining the rules of permission as “think of it like sex” as far as considering other people’s perception and reaction of the intimacy of tickling. I couldn’t help myself:
AMN: Doesn’t that hold for some rather high expectations?
JonMath: (without missing a beat or a smile) Maybe YOUR expectations.
I laughed because I was expecting that response and thought it was funny. Then the whole room goes “OOOOOOH!” like in high school when someone got dissed old school style. When I realized I’d been zinged, I pulled a Carson and waited for the room to die down enough and said:
AMN: If you weren’t so awesome in Alien 3 I’d have something very unpleasant to say-
I couldn’t even finish because the room exploded in a roaring fit of laughter as no one expected that obscure reference as a joke. I thought it was fitting—and I cheated because I used it casually the night before at Denny’s—and not too offensive. Good times.
LeeAllure Paralyzes Mairead
Let me demonstrate the POWER that is LeeAllure. I’ll never forget this gem of a moment. Our biggest S.A.M., Mairead—a.k.a. TicklishGiggle—has a neck with +11 sensitivity, and if you’ve ever seen her tickled in real-life, she bares her teeth and halfheartedly shrugs away after a few seconds. Following the Bondage 101 class, Mairead was hanging around with a bunch of us, including LeeAllure, and the subject of her neck came up. Now, the thing about LeeAllure is that once you MENTION another person’s ticklishness, it’s too late, because it’s in her ear and growing. No sooner had we brought this up than Lee’s attention (and her head) turns to face her; Mairead is sitting down facing us, but her eyes move over and she sees Lee looking at her, and with just a look and that smile of hers, Lee paralyzes Mairead. She literally CAN-NOT MOVE. So Lee starts strolling a mere 5 steps over and by this time, Giggle’s trembling and shaking and with her hands at her sides and an ear-splitting grin on her face. Lee stops right beside her and Mairead does the whole “if I can’t see her, she’s not there” thing by scrunching her eyes shut, and Lee reaches up, clutches the back of her hair, and TILTS HER HEAD ALL THE WAY BACK. And I’m giddy as hell at this point just watching a master toy with her prey. Once she’s got her head back, Lee goes to work all along her neck gliding and fluttering away and Mairead…STILL, DOES NOT MOVE! After about 15 seconds, Lee stops and walks away saying: “See, it’s not my fault her neck is so ticklish.”
Now THAT’S power.
Bondage 101 with JonMath and KittenToes
I consider myself a fairly intelligent man, but I felt like a 5 year old seeing magic tricks when I took this first seminar of the weekend. First of all, you couldn’t ask for a classier act than JonMath and Kitten Toes because 1) they look good enough to capture your attention, and 2) they explain the most intricate steps as if they’re the easiest things in the world, and 3)…they’re right. In the course of half-an-hour (the other half consisted of the poor duo being pelted with nit-picking questions and ridiculous Amnesiac comments), they showed how you could build a basic bondage kit for $30-50 with stuff from Home Depot and how to find, cut, and tie knots that hold but don’t hurt AND explain the philosophy behind them. If these two had been teaching high school algebra, the dumbest kid in class would qualify for Math Club, it was THAT effective. I had to ruin it partially of course by concluding a hog-tying demonstration with the following phrase: “I’ll pay you a dollar if you can pick [Kitten] up like a suitcase like that.” Nevertheless, they were both sports.
And it would be a grave injustice to not mention JonMath’s patented “How not to tie up a girl” demonstration. I won’t even ruin it by describing it because it would deprive other newbies of the experience, but suffice to say I was laughing so hard during the moment that I practically fell out of my chair.
The Hot Tub Raspberry Massacre
There was a pool party at the main hotel on Saturday night, and since most people who knew each other were hanging out elsewhere doing “elsethings”, I went to see if it was going to be interesting. I went fully clothed because nobody needs to be exposed to MY body in a swimsuit, and halfway expected to leave 5 minutes in out of boredom. WRONG! WRONG, MAN! At least a dozen folks were in there, half in the hot tub, the other half in the pool, chucking water-soaked pool toys at each other in a game that as far as I can tell, had no point. I was drawn over to the hot tub to retrieve toys lest anyone get the idea of chucking them at me, and once I got close, the lovely, luscious, and laughing Alyson asked me why I wasn’t getting in; apparently, having man-boobs wasn’t a good excuse to not get in. So finally she splashes me and IT. IS. ON. Without ANY concern about getting wet, I poke and prod her to the tile floor and start working her over.
Let me tell ya, Alyson’s got some endurance, man. I threw everything I had at her, and she took it without any struggling or resistance; she just stayed down laughing and jiggling in this ADORABLE breathless cackle she has—I wish I brought my damn tape recorder for it—and kept going. She reminded me a lot of GiggleGal from MTP so I decided to use on her what worked on GG: raspberries. Unlimited raspberries. Armpits, belly, inner thighs, feet, even neck for about 23 minutes of almost non-stop raspberry torment. I had to keep dipping into the hot tub to splash water on her as a makeshift oil, but it worked wonders. By the time I ran out of breath, I was soaking wet, didn’t care, and had no breath left. The pool party ended for me when Classy splashed me in the face with water, and skedaddled the fuck out when I began dramatically preparing myself to dive in and teach her a lesson. One of these days Classy…one of these days…
Unfortunately, thanks to TSA regs, I couldn’t bring a razor and a day’s long stubble chafed poor Alyson in the armpits a little too much for full exploitation on Sunday. But as long as her outfits were thin/thick enough, the raspberry attacks continued. I intend to do the more next year. After this, I went and played with Tickleshotel and TickleJen, where my nearly exhausted raspberry powers were used for evil once again.
Reflexology Tic-Tac-Toe
It began as a simple reflexology and massage class until something went terribly right! Affectionate Dan, resident teddy bear and disciplinarian of NEST sought to hold a serious and enlightening seminar on post-tickling massage and reflexology. Unfortunately, his partner didn’t show up and one of our attendees well versed in reflexology lent his hands to demonstrate for us…with lil Tickleshotel as a subject. I don’t know what was more fun, learning stuff or hearing the instructor make vain commands for her to “stop laughing” during the demo. I moved to get a better look, and just then, he began describing the 6 sections of the foot and how they worked, and how they were divided by a line. This is where the scene changes. I decided to ask if we should define the line with the aid of ink…from a ballpoint pen. So I drew a line straight down the middle of her teeny foot, and had to redo it because it wasn’t dark enough. Within seconds, Hotel lost any composure and we were inventing excuses to add more lines to her foot. Someone commented that the result looked like a tic-tac-toe board.
So we played tic-tac-toe. On her feet.
LeeAllure, in that way we sadists have of impressing ideas while pretending to express concern asked “Is that a 2.5mm ultra-fine-tipped ballpoint pen?” It wasn’t but I said “yes” anyway. No sooner had I complained about running out of ink than Lee was already there with a handful of additional pens. Such a thoughtful lady, she is. Someone also had the foresight to bring a felt-tipped calligraphy pen, and the generosity to lend it to me, and the evilness to let me use it. After about 5 minutes or so, Hotel got down and the session started over with real massage using our lovely, perky, and kicky Jayne as the subject. Unfortunately, we behaved ourselves during this time and let our instructor demonstrate. After a while, Alchemy brought up how from personal experience he knew the healing powers of massage and touch, and a thoughtful and enlightened discussion about it came up. We soon realized we were neglecting Jayne, but it didn’t matter…our instructor had relaxed her to sleep.
Room 225
Whatever you do…DO NOT GO IN ROOM 225! There’s Geeks in there! I should know, I was there. Chaneda set up shop in Room 225 which became the official NEST poker parlor populated by the Lovely Alyson, the gigantic ASU, the indispensable James Bond, the inimitable Avenger 314, Ivory Tickler, our transatlantic wonder-boy Italian_Touch, the quiet but contemplative Azrael, and our lovely little lady lee Jayne. I wasn’t there for all of it, and The Order of the Sandwich didn’t form until Sunday night (and they can tell it better than I can), but after swimming and play with Jen, I found these guys hanging out with a Hibachi smoking on the floor (the vibrator, not the stove)—and I’m still sorry I missed that—and everyone was sitting around playing poker with the cursed Casino Royale deck. I tended to stick to the bed since the fold-out table was taken, which turned out to be excellent for when Jayne kicked off her shoes and took up residence on the mattress as well, I was in an optimum position. But woe to any man who tries to take on Jayne alone. She has the strength of 50 oxen in her legs and the slightest touch between the toes with a Sonicare sends her into a shrieking WWE event. Not since 4Pawz threw five of us around at GLAT have I seen so ferociously strong a ‘lee, and it took 3 of us merely to hold her leg still enough to go to work. Even then, we couldn’t hold her feet still enough to drive her mad.
But we had ourselves a little treat. Jayne is as ticklish on the palms of her hand as Mairead is on her neck, or Bella in the armpits. Since her legs were flailing sticks of doom—Italian Touch missed a shot in the face by mere millimeters—we settled for her hands. With Avenger and his trusty hands and I with my Magic Sonicare, we took to her palms AND her feet with gleefully shrieky results. Oh she was fun and adorable. But alas, Avenger and Alyson had to disperse elsewhere on a walk, the card game folded, and the rest of us were left to watch King Kong (the 1976 version) on HBO Family (what a fucking pointless channel that is) until about 2:30 in the morning when we called it a night.
With everyone tired, I knew the play was done, but undaunted, I asked Jayne if she was tired and she said “yes.” I then put on my best sad face and pulled my Sonicare up and whimpered “So…so…so no more. *bzzzzzzzzz*?” She simply shook her head and I drooped the Sonicare. Italian burst out laughing and just about flew off the bed. “I can’t believe it! You actually got the toothbrush to emote! I swear I saw a tear fall from it!” Just my luck. I put in the effort and my prop gets the accolades.
Max Speer’s MST3K Vintage Theater
Max Speer was beautiful enough to hold a vintage tickling video marathon in one of the rooms during the weekend. The marathon only lasted 2 hours, and he was fast-forwarding through most of it, but it was a treat to see what life was like back in the Age of Analog. Originally, the room was nearly empty on account of the hotel TV’s not having the input ports for a player, so after a 40 minute delay so that Max could go out and BUY a DVD/VHS combo machine for the exhibition, the room grew past standing room only. Veterans from as far back as pre-NEST traded comments, and musings, and reminiscences about long-gone producers, legendary pioneering videos, and the Byzantine structure of the old mail-order correspondence and trade system, while I sat back and felt like a damn spoiled rotten kid who didn’t have to wade 15 miles through the snow and wait 4 months for his tickling media. I tried to talk Max into building an archive for a Community Historical Library, but have yet to hear anything back on that. So, in between the memories, it quickly became an MST3K of sorts with everybody chiming in with their witty and humorous commentaries on the videos and what was going on. We’ve come a long way in the medium, but the stuff was indeed pretty good for what was available then.
Balloon Animal Improv Theater with Amnesiac & Avenger
Snail Shell and some others had taken it upon themselves to try a DIY balloon animal kit in the lobby of the hotel. The results were less than spectacular. What WAS spectacular was the insane burst of inspiration that began haphazardly when I walked down and picked one of them up. Sure enough, the wheels in my head started turning, and I asked “What is this?” Mairead, who was there with Ayla NY, Jeff and Affectionate Dan took it and said “It’s a swan.” Sure enough, it was. But I wasn’t happy with that. I extended the neck, flattened it out and revealed: “An exterior view of a hermaphrodite!” Avenger, thinking he could best me, took it and tried his own thing. Before you know it, it was a Who’s Line Is It Anyway with balloon animal props…only half as funny. Although we both had some zingers, we all had some real groaners, mine being the most X-rated and his being the poorer timed, I nevertheless trumped the supernaturally gifted trivia winner with my renditions of a band saw, a Spanish helmet, a water witch, a snail from Chernobyl, and a rooster with a throat infection. The others sat idly by in either awe or horror—they kinda look the same after a while—and the entire 45 minute session can be summed up in Jeff’s immortal words: “Jesus Christ, they’re still going?!”
Eventually it got off the animals and went into a very brief Monty Python quote-a-thon, which Avenger dropped out of because he doesn’t watch Monty Python and needs to be beaten severely with a 16-ton weight. So it turned into dirty joke interval period, which I won because of my vast repository of Redd Foxx comedy albums. Needless to say, it wasn’t Jeff’s or Mairead’s cup of tea, so we both packed it after a while to which Avenger graciously acknowledged my superior comedic and geek skills and said “Good game.” Sadly, we never had the chance to engage in another spontaneous act of anarchistic guerrilla comedy that weekend. At least not with a captive audience whose asses were bonded to the furniture with wacky glue like they were that evening.
The Kidnapping of IrishGirl 5
Some people remember where they were on 9/11; others remember when their band opened for Nirvana; a few remember where they were sitting when the OJ verdict came in. Me? I’ll always remember where I was when IrishGirl got kidnapped. This was one of the awesomest things I have ever seen. I have ERASED childhood memories to burn this event into my brain. As many of you have heard, there were pre-scheduled kidnapping scenarios ‘lees signed up for where they would be kidnapped at random by a group of “thugs” taken to a discreet location and worked on mercilessly for certain duration. You sometimes got to see this happen as a group of people in balaclavas and ski masks marching in a group with a purpose. Well, I happened to see this too at the venue and couldn’t resist watching. Little did I know how legendary it would be.
I saw the troupe marching towards the back room at the venue and one of them was a slender body with a light corset whom I recognized as LeeAllure and thought “Oh I GOTTA see this!” I didn’t see the ‘nap, but I saw the 6 bodies carrying a hooded body in their clutches like a sack of flour and recognized the white shirt with green swim-top and realized: “That’s IrishGirl!” They carted her over to the last of a row of “huts” on location where a horrific fate awaited her; apparently, this was big news because a crowd began to draw around. Bella came walking out of the back room with a shocked look on her face, shaking her head saying: “I was not ready for that!” Well, lo and behold, this final hut had a window on it the size of a widescreen TV. I hurried my ass over and slid into place behind it to witness the glorious spectacle.
There, inside was JonMath, who had switched out of his royal Russian aristocrat’s costume for an authentic KGB political uniform complete with sickle-and-hammer emblems; he was already in character and suave as hell. Little Irish was intimidated by the scene because as JonMath began his “scene” as interrogator, she tried incredibly futiley to suppress a smile and tried looking away from him and we onlookers to compose herself. The captors were all legendary ‘lers of the finest stock, and lined up against the wall still in masks: LeeAllure, MTP Jeff, TcklChcgo, Avenger, etc. All awaiting orders. I couldn’t hear too well until the person next to me moved away, but apparently the scenario was that IrishGirl was a hapless American citizen in possession of secret plans…to the location of the officers latrine. And to extract the information in accordance with the Geneva Convention, they had a special interrogation technique that didn’t leave marks. This sounds familiar. JonMath was in top form with an over top HILARIOUS fake Russian accent that was stripping away at everyone’s composure, not just Irish; he was to Russian accents what Kenneth Mars is to German ones; put a monocle on him and he could have been Col. Klink. Eventually, you KNOW Irish is going to end up on the table in there, and sure enough, they tied her down fully stretched out and completely vulnerable.
At this point, I’m shaking and trembling with excitement, but true to my film school training, I didn’t break the scene, and graciously enough, neither did anyone else who was there watching. Each ‘ler took up a position around her and acted on a specific body part upon JonMath’s command, which he drew out as best he could to further anticipation. Irish tried to resist, but whenever her sensitivity died out, JonMath would back her again with random comments like “Tell us where is pwans to latreen so our officers may go pee-pee!” and she would lose it again. Any time you hear JonMath describing in detail what is going on, what is going to happen, and concluding his descriptions with requests for the plans so “we know where to shit!” nobody’s having a straight face. When Irish wasn’t laughing silently, she was yelping out “Fuck! Shit! I Don’t KNOW!” Then came the blindfold. THEN came the baby oil. THEN came the musical ‘lers switching around. When the pinwheel was taken out and run across her feet, she was done.
But nobody else was. The final straw came with 5 minutes of non-stop tickling: Viper took the foot with the pinwheel, Lee got the inner thighs, Avenger got the belly and ribs, while Jeff took the armpits, and TcklChcgo got the neck—which is the fucking oil field of ticklish spots on Irish. Finally she gave in and said “It’s by the rock outside camp!” to which JonMath sent Avenger to “look”. He returned and said “Comrade general, the plans are not there!”
“Well, forget it then. We dig new hole in ground.” So the poor thing went through all that for nothing. And yet I can’t seem to feel the least bit sorry for her. Tee hee.
Bella Gotz Strong-Ass Feetz!
A few months ago when I got into NEST, I bought a Sonicare on Amazon for $54, and my investment paid off with interest. I was like Clint Eastwood with that Sonicare, whipping it out of my back pocket and offering it to the participants in various plays when I wasn’t allowed in. And many were happy to oblige, much to the chagrin of the ‘lees on the receiving end. I’m not quite sure how I got involved, but I’m pretty sure it was because I saw Bella getting tied up to the railroad-tie style suspension rack on the floor, the insidious DVNC and “C” doing the intricate tying, when they proffered if I would like to assist. I mentioned that I knew nothing about tying people up and they simply relegated me to holding little Bella up and making sure her hands stayed apart. Apparently, little Bella can get out of ANY bondage known to man and God provided her hands go unsupervised so I was commissioned to watch her hands while they went to work. I got to fulfill my years-long dream of helping Bella suffer. Of course I joined in.
Here’s the thing aboot Bella: she doesn’t become a brat until AFTER you tie her up. And she likes to be worked on with blindfolds, so you have this adorable little sub wearing a blindfold with this enormous smile dancing to her own little music as she’s being restrained. From that point on, her voice was soft widdle whimper who took quite a pelting from “C” (who I swear must have been in Midnight Express given the look on his face) while I held her to me providing my own comedic dom one-liners: “The beating will continue until morale improves” sort of thing.
Once she was in her sub-space, her feet were unspeakably ticklish. I had fun with her ribs and her armpits, which were just a deliciously sensitive as I’d hoped they’d be, and went after her unrestrained feet. Now apparently, there can be a lot of muscle packed into a 4’11” frame, and in Bella it was all in her legs. No sooner did I get down there to hold one foot to work on with my pocket-sized knobby comb then she threw me off my balance. It was like being kicked by a mule. Prying her feet off the floor was like wrestling with a piston, and I expended all my strength just to get it up—I didn’t have anything left to hold it. Tired of this, I took out my trusty Sonicare from my back pocket and started applying that. I was immediately met with “What the hell is that!” and a swift leg throw that left me landing on my tuchus. I tried this over and over again, but each time it was a losing battle. After the third or fourth time, I put my tools away and tried to use my feet, but Bella threw me so hard I tried to hold on and got dragged under her where she actually fucking TRAMPLED me!
I gave up my endeavors after that, and that’s when I decided to take up the role of Bella Holder for “C” while he opened his bag of tricks. Many of them were simple tools that caused more noise than pain, but since Bella couldn’t see, I decided to get my revenge by protesting viciously t each item: “Oh hell no, hell no! Man you can’t…Goddamn man put that down, that’s too mean!” And the psych-out worked. Bella later showed up at my hotel room later that evening and I got another shot at her feet until I discovered something better: her belly button. And THIS time, it was her fighting ME to pry my appendage away, not the other way around. My thumbs and forefinger were sore as hell, but rarely is pain so worth it.
JonMath and KittenToes
What a way to end an evening I’ll tell ya. First of all, JonMath hammers us with his superior taste in style through his wardrobe. Then, he shows us his pristine acting chops in the IrishGirl kidnapping scenario. Now to conclude the evening, he decides to provide us with an exhibition in skill with his exclusive lee Kitten Toes on the venue main floor. Once the table is set up and Kitten restrained in only the requisite amount of clothing, he totally gets into character slowly and smoothly by adjusting his shirt sleeves and hands for about 2 minutes. Then, in an astounding display of his psychological mind-fuck powers, he extends his arm in a grand gesture…and extends one…simple…finger. And slowly…ever so slowly, he brings that finger down…down…dooooooooooooown until Kitten is squirming and squeaking before he’s even touched her. And when he finally did, the glass in the building vibrated. Kitten was so deliciously ticklish and so sensitive to the touch, that even the people nearby had to plug their ears and turn away at times to withstand the shriek. But for those of us further back watching from a distance, we were able to take it in with more appreciation. JonMath played her like Rachmaninoff with a grand piano, and we all felt humbled and novice again watching his divine dexterity make a quivering mass of girlflesh out of KittenToes. After literally 45 minutes of non-stop tickling, I know that I felt like I was coming off of the full solo section of “Shine on You Crazy Diamond” but couldn’t press repeat for another trip.
When he let her up, she was limper than a wet noodle (which is called "ragdolling"), actually collapsed when she shuffled off the table—she was caught by the fast reflexes of JonMath and DVNC—and as her body rebooted, I sauntered over to the table, looked at JonMath…and bowed. Nothing less would do for the master.
If they ever make a WKYW movie one day, JonMath could play Touch EASILY.
Other Mentions:
LeeAllure spent a great deal of time at the door on Sunday making sure everybody was getting in. When I approached her to ask about a photo idea I had, TcklChgo was walking by with the venerable and vulnerable Nischa in tow, Lee dropped the giant boots she had taken off and pounced on her. Coming to her rescue, Chgo wrapped her arms in his so she wouldn’t hurt herself falling down or squirming as Lee attacked her belly, hips and ribs. With friends like these…
Speaking of Lee, here’s another detail of how evil she is. On Sunday, I was getting some snackies from the snack table and asked her why she wore a coat instead of a cape or cloak. Once she explained why, it was her turn to ask ME a question:
LEE: Are you ticklish?
AMN: Well, yeah, but I’m not a ‘lee.
LEE: That wasn’t the question.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVIL woman! It’s chicks like her and Shirley Manson that make subbing sound like a fun thing.
War of the Giants
Appearances can be deceiving online from in person. We all knew that ASU was a giant because the internet shook when he got up to go to the fridge, but we never counted on Mairead to be near Amazonian heights herself. Although she claims to be 5’7” me and ASU and everybody else said “bullshit” and I lay claim that she’s 5’10” to which she vehemently contests. This took a turn for the humorous at the venue after The Brat finished turning in her raffle ticket earnings and sat down. ASU quickly joined in and the topic of size came up yet again and the two giants of NEST began a verbal war trying to top the other on height zingers. My personal favorite was when Mairead, with her irresistibly challenging grin, dismissed ASU with “Why don’t you eat an ox or something and pick your teeth with the horns?” ASU countered by taking Mairead’s Chicago accent and making with the Edward G. Robinson impressions. We then got sidetracked and argued whether we would actually vote for a presidential candidate on the sole basis that he talked like that.
CANDIDATE/ASU: Yah, see? I got a cigar in one hand and my finger on the button see? We’re gonna do it my way see? Yah!
Things kind of got off track from there with an impromptu arm-wrestling war between the two that ended in defeat for her and a few thigh squeezles that she batted away with growls—yes, fucking GROWLS—and fisticuff motions.
Good times see? Yah.
Milagros the Lucky Bastard
This has already been mentioned, but it’s so fucking cool it has to be said again. This was the fucking Hollywood miracle ending to every sports or kid-with-a-terminal-illness-at-graduation movie ever made. The final prize for the raffle was a 2-on-1 tickle torture session with two lovely lady models from MP productions who were there to publicize their website. One look at these chicks made you wanna go sub just for the chance of making it. The final ticket was called and after a slight delay, Milagros stepped forward with the winning ticket.
The room fucking exploded in applause. It was that magical Mighty Ducks moment and people fucking gave him a standing ovation (myself included) as he was led off to the staging area by the models. Truly a moment for the history books of NEST for Milagros…the luckiest bastard of the entire weekend.
Alas, I could not be there for everything and there's plenty of fun and wonderful strangeness that I didn't get to see. So, for all of you out there with stories to tell, what do YOU recall from NEST '07 that you'd like to share with us all?
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. "Unlicensed Clown" nearly caused heart attacks the rest of the weekend, and if you know the guy in question is really is that funny 
