TMI Thursday - In which I accidentally walked in on a donkey show.

Hold on to your hats, ladies and gentlemen. It's time for LiLu's TMI Thursday!



Strangely, I've had more questions about how this could happen accidentally than questions about the actual donkey show. I guess once you've seen one donkey show, you've seen 'em all.



By the way? It was nothing like that. Also, sorry for the poor quality, but it was the only video I could find without ads in it.

My family moved to El Paso, Texas the year that I started high school. We lived there for about five years. The best thing about El Paso, Texas? Nothing. Okay, maybe its proximity to Juarez, Mexico. Where we could go, as underage kids, and pay eight dollars to get into a club for what they call "drink and drown." Basically, you pay the money, you drink for free for the rest of the night.

I never drank, but I went with my friends because it was the thing to do. We would go to the clubs, they would get hammered, we would all dance ourselves silly, then I would drive them home. Note: I didn't get my driver's license until about a week before graduation, so this was pretty illegal. Then again, so is drunk driving. And it's particularly frowned upon when you're 16-years-old.

The only other thing to do was drive out into the desert and drink and/or make out.

So most weekends, we all piled into a car, drove to the border, parked the car, told the lady who guarded the parking lot that we would indeed "have fun and be careful" (she said this to everyone every time), paid our quarter, and walked over the bridge to good ol' Mexico.

On my first or second trip, I was, of course, scared to death. I mean, we're a bunch of high school white kids crossing into border town Mexico to party. It was a horrible idea and I'm surprised more of us didn't die. Or get raped. Or get sold into slavery. But somehow, for the most part, there were no tragedies.

My friends and I had gone to a place called "Tequila Derby" first. But it was dead, so they said we should move on to a different place, called "Fred's." Fred's was more of a bar and less of a club and you had to be 18 to get in. Of course, I wasn't anywhere near 18, but my twin friends were, so I had one of their old IDs and no one even pretended to notice that two of us had the same name. And walked in back to back. With another girl with almost the same name. But I was blonde and they were brunette. Just sayin'.

Anyway, I had never been to Fred's, so I had no idea where to go. I was following them, when my shoe came untied. I bent over to fix the problem and when I looked up, my friends were gone.

I assumed that they must have just gone in the next door, if they disappeared that quickly, so I calmly and happily yanked the door open.

And stopped.

In front of me, there was a stage. On the stage there was a rather skinny, large-breasted, brunette woman. Also on the stage, a donkey. The woman was...servicing the donkey. In ways my little innocent 16-year-old eyes had never seen. She was on all fours (as was the donkey, I suppose), underneath the donkey, with his dick in her mouth, sucking for all she was worth.

I couldn't do anything but stare.

Until I realized that upon the entrance of a teenage blonde girl, all eyes had turned toward the door. And now were staring at me. With sort of a hungry, maybe-I'd-like-some-of-that-for-dessert look on their collective faces.

My eyes probably widened to near-saucer proportions. I started backing toward the door, still almost unable to avert my eyes from the woman on stage, who had now turned herself around so that she could...take it in the ass for the donkey. There was no lube break. Vomit started rising up in my throat. I spun around, slammed the door open and ran at full-speed out onto the street.

Where I stopped. Because I still had no idea where my friends were.

I opened the next door more cautiously and was rewarded with the sight of hundreds of high school kids with Zimas (Yes, Zima. I didn't drink it, but it was quite popular at the time.) laughing and talking, my friends among them.

One of my friends looked at me and said, "Where did you go?"

I just looked at her, I'm sure the fear was still in my eyes, and said, "I'll tell you later. Just took a wrong turn."