Saturday Night Frights


Waking at the Hotel Castle Tierney was an adventure in itself -- it required stepping over the sleeping bodies of Eric, Alex, Candy, Carol, David and Pastorio. The early afternoon brought us the very red-headed Robin Pastorio Newman. Yes, Robin arrived, Party Cheese and junk food in hand.


The quote of the early afternoon came from Grace Tierney, who repeated over and over again, "Robin? Show me that earring on your tongue again."

The crowds demanded music, and Pastorio was not yet awake enough to start stroking, so Melanie is seen here, lugging her rack outside.

The next main event was the arrival of Mary Jo Place, with the honored pretend guest, The Big Boy Mingo Head. Yes, Mingo gave good head at the Jersey Wrevolt, even in his sorely-missed absence.

Ah-ha! Finally, Lincoln arrives with his stew! Pastorio and Melanie give the neighbors something to talk about during a trip to A&P to get bread, and arrive back to find that the party is complete with the welcome addition of Stan (The Man), who was wise enough to bring flowers and brownies to appease the savage hostess.

At this point "Lincoln's stew" turned into "Lincoln's stewed", thanks to David-the-mad-scot who had brought two bottles of fine single malt scotch with him. Stan started pouring and then about 2 hours later we poured Lincoln into his sleeping bag in the back of his truck!

Pastorio's sweet stuff (chocolate, you filthy-minded mw'ers!) was consumed while Alex continued his ped-sex. Scotch depleted, we warmed up in other ways, each to his own. Mary Jo, Eric, Melanie, Stan, Candy, Pastorio and David built a near-bonfire in the fireplace. Carol searched for pants without slits up the sides. Alex sought more feet.

Not long after the old folks had snuck off to bed, the phone calls began. Alma? Hello, Alma? Here's everybody. I can't comment much on that part, since I was one of the aforementioned old folks. I did hear much about nudity and -- ahem -- STUFF. Apparently it was some two plus hours of Alma, the way people were throwing apologetic phone bill money at the hostess the next morning.


This is Alex, following Alma's every command...and yes, it got worse...er, I mean BETTER!


Sunday dawned. Ugh. Hangover cures were begged from anyone who was able to walk. Some wrevolted wrevelers were only bribed out of bed (after an hour or two of sleep) by the yummy smells from the Pastorio-ruled kitchen. Stan came through again with fresh bagels and more laughter.

I could go on and on, because the party did. Sunday night I got to keep Alex, Eric, Candy and Carol. And then Monday night I got to keep the MW babes one more night!

All of us, post-scotch!

Needless to say, it was a grand time, and a reunion is planned for next year.



(See the Perpetrators page for the rest of the pictures from the NJ Wrevolt.)

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