The six dollar laugh
Ladies and Gentlemen!
Had a wonderful time in Palm Springs, where I woke up in a hot tub with my bikini top inside a beer bottle. I vaguely remember pushing it in there with my tongue. It's a muscle, and should be exercised so that it doesn't fail you when you really "need it."
Anyhoo, came back to Los Angeles and had drinks with my pal Edema at The Abbey! And I had another "celebrity" sighting! Janice Dickinson, the world's first supermodel, as she says.
My colleague, Janice Dickinson. She looked good!
It was really dark.
She ordered a drink and when the bartender said, "Six dollars," she said "Six bucks? Do you know who I am?" He said, "You're the lady who is going to give me six dollars." I laughed in my darn outer voice, the one that gets me in trouble, the laugh that resembles the sound a hyena makes when having its "lower belly" being tickled by a feather duster, and she turned and looked at me! In the eyes! It was thrilling. Kind of like the end of "Rosemary's Baby." But without the "comic relief" of Ruth Gordon.
Anyway, my dear friend Bubba, short for "Bubalah," sent me a "King Cake" from New Orleans to celebrate the Mardi Gras. Talk about a sweetheart! I came home, high as a kite, well, from my celebrity sighting and consequential adrenaline rush from the fear of being attacked, and ate the whole thing. Happy Mardi Gras!
It was delicious. And I know, because I kept tasting it ALL night. With the whole pizza I ate from Papa John's. And the whole burrito I ate while I was waiting for the pizza. And the whole Big Mac I ate while waiting for the burrito, while waiting for the pizza. There's a lotta "wholes" in that statement. Here's the proof.
Good morning, heart-burn. I digested all of this last night.
As well as my esophagus.
I better go to the gym now. Hope I don't run into Janice! Call me Dionne Warwick, but I have a "hunch" that she's not up yet.
It's amazing how I have the most amazing will power all day long and then, BAM! It's gone after six wild berry martinis! (I had to actually pay for mine, too.)
Don't worry about me,
VJ
Had a wonderful time in Palm Springs, where I woke up in a hot tub with my bikini top inside a beer bottle. I vaguely remember pushing it in there with my tongue. It's a muscle, and should be exercised so that it doesn't fail you when you really "need it."
Anyhoo, came back to Los Angeles and had drinks with my pal Edema at The Abbey! And I had another "celebrity" sighting! Janice Dickinson, the world's first supermodel, as she says.
My colleague, Janice Dickinson. She looked good!It was really dark.
She ordered a drink and when the bartender said, "Six dollars," she said "Six bucks? Do you know who I am?" He said, "You're the lady who is going to give me six dollars." I laughed in my darn outer voice, the one that gets me in trouble, the laugh that resembles the sound a hyena makes when having its "lower belly" being tickled by a feather duster, and she turned and looked at me! In the eyes! It was thrilling. Kind of like the end of "Rosemary's Baby." But without the "comic relief" of Ruth Gordon.
Anyway, my dear friend Bubba, short for "Bubalah," sent me a "King Cake" from New Orleans to celebrate the Mardi Gras. Talk about a sweetheart! I came home, high as a kite, well, from my celebrity sighting and consequential adrenaline rush from the fear of being attacked, and ate the whole thing. Happy Mardi Gras!
It was delicious. And I know, because I kept tasting it ALL night. With the whole pizza I ate from Papa John's. And the whole burrito I ate while I was waiting for the pizza. And the whole Big Mac I ate while waiting for the burrito, while waiting for the pizza. There's a lotta "wholes" in that statement. Here's the proof.
Good morning, heart-burn. I digested all of this last night.As well as my esophagus.
I better go to the gym now. Hope I don't run into Janice! Call me Dionne Warwick, but I have a "hunch" that she's not up yet.
It's amazing how I have the most amazing will power all day long and then, BAM! It's gone after six wild berry martinis! (I had to actually pay for mine, too.)
Don't worry about me,
VJ
posted by Varla Jean Merman at
9:05 AM
6 Comments:
Creepy! I'm reading this as Janice is on the tele screaming at girls on America's Next Top Model.
Tinis will bite you in your healthy ass. Have a safe trip home!
See! I am psychic! Like Dionne!
And Vivica A. Fox!
Happy Mardi Gras, did you swallow the baby?
I don't know what a "King Cake" is....but it sure sounds good! Janice scares me, you titilate me...I'm one confused gay guy! You rock Varla!
@Geoff: A king cake is a type of cake associated with Mardi Gras. The cakes have a small trinket (often a small plastic baby, sometimes said to represent Baby Jesus) inside, and the person who gets the piece of cake with the trinket has various privileges and obligations (such as buying the next King cake).
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