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5:52 a.m. - 2007-04-30


So I'm doing this gig on Thursday night.

It's a big fancy fundraiser for a nationwide organization who helps people die with dignity.

There's alcohol, rich people and rich old people there.


Rich, old, HORNY people there.

I'm standing there, just minding my own business, shuffling around to "Mustang Sally" when an old lady walks up to me.

She doesn't say anything. Probably didn't have a voice box left would be my guess.

You know that movie "The Mummy"?

This was the Mummy's mom.

Old, I'm tellin' ya.

She makes a motion for me to bend down so she can say something in my ear so that I can hear it.

I bend down to about a 90 degree angle because this woman was half my size. She's like s small skeleton with a few patches of skin covering her bones up.

She gets her mouth near my ear.

And then ... for some inexplicable reason ... I'm now got somebody's great great great grandmother kissing my ear seductively.

There's no tongue.

Thank THE GOOD LORD ABOVE there was no tongue.

But she's open mouth humping my face and ear, leaving crimson lipstick marks around my face which are the size of Mason jars.

I try to pull back but she grips my head with her bony hands and keeps me at this most uncomfortable angle and keeps gnawing at my face.

I had a geriatric zombie with a death grip on my head.

Finally ... FINALLY one of the employees of this organization comes running over and pries the woman off of me, saying "I'm so sorry ... I'm so sorry."

I mean ... it's okay.

I wasn't hurt or anything.

I'd just never been french kissed on the side of the head repeatedly by an old woman with no tongue.

You know how sometimes something happens or is said and at the time it happens you're taken aback but later you think "Oh I wish I would have said/done that!"?

I truly think that I totally could have copped a tit squeeze off her and she wouldn't have said a word about it.

An hour or so later, an old guy came up to me.

Not as old as The Mummy's Mummy ... this guy was probably in his early 80s.

"Goddamn son, you know what?" he asked.

"Goddamn what, old man?" I asked back.

"You need to play something like The Twist," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"The Twist huh?" I smiled. "If I play it, will you lead the dance floor in doing it?"

"Oh hell yeah!" the man laughs.




His hand starts rubbing circles on my back.

I'm okay with this.

I didn't particularly ASK for an old man to come up and give me an impromptu back massage in front of everyone.

But I wasn't at the "Grab the Microphone and Scream For Somebody to Get Gramps Off Of Me" stage yet.

Five seconds later ... I was.

His hand slid down my back ... to my ass.

So now he is LITERALLY rubbing my ass.

I swear to God.

I'm standing there ... in my tux ... smiling at 300 people who are dancing and having a good time ... while this elderly man is slowly rubbing large circles on my left ass cheek.

This lasted for all of ... hmmmm ... I'd say 14 minutes.

I'm kidding.

About five seconds into the ass massage, I pretended like I had to do something to the CD players to prevent them from skipping or something and walked away from the massage.

He smiled and told me to dedicate the Twist to "R.D."

"The Real Deal" he explained.

I played it next and true to form ... R.D. made his way to the edge of the dance floor and started doing The Twist.

I mean ... had the song not been playing and had I not announced it, you would have thought the man was trying desperately to flick imaginary spiders off his back.

Meaning ... it looked nothing like the actual Twist.

Everybody formed a circle around him as he stood in the middle and did his little dance/spastic fit.

At the end of the song I said "How 'bout a big hand for R.D., ladies and gentlemen?"

He got a big hand from the crowd.

He then came back to thank me.

I was okay with this.

...Until that old motherhumper went after my ass again.

Keep in mind ... I have one of the most flattest asses ever on a man.

I have a small, flat ass.

Former girlfriends have labeled it everything from "repulsively disgusting" to looking like "two reams of copy paper side by side".

It's quite possibly the world's dullest ass.

One hundred people could look at my ass and 99 of them would have the same response ... "Eh".

But for some strange reason ... Gramps here would be the 100th person who found my flat boring ass the male ass of his dreams.

So now he's asking for some "old soul music" while kneading my ass like bread dough.

I'm getting paid $150 an hour for this gig.

A non-profit organization is giving me a sizable chunk of this fund raiser.

So technically, I should be able to roll with this.

You've got soldiers in Iraq wondering if today's the day they're going to die each morning that they wake up.

I've got Bob Hope latched onto my ass like a parasite.

I mean ... I feel bad bitching about it.

But damn ... you let old ladies gnaw at your face and old men fester sexual fantasies about YOUR ass, Missy.

I'll check the "No Thanks" box every time.

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