I literally just found out that the band Queen was gay. Not that it will affect my drunken renditions of Bohemian Rhapsody at bars, weddings, or social gatherings…but it was staring me right in the face the whole time. “Queen”. I get it!
I have to preface this next one by saying that I work at a bar in Boston:
Dear socially inept Guido, please put down your Heineken, take out your diamond glass earrings, and walk straight into oncoming traffic. If I have to watch another one of you dance up on some poor girl, (followed by the look of sheer terror on her face, mouthing the words to her now laughing friend, “SAVE- ME”) I am going to flip out.
A lot of bachelorette parties come into my place of work. The other night, however, one such party brought with them a 6 foot tall, 2 foot in diameter inflatable penis. It was the giant elephant in the room. Don’t look at the penis, don’t laugh at the penis. But c’mon, you’re dancing with a penis…
Sometimes I weigh the options of having to go to the bathroom so bad, versus how out of breath I will be having to go all the way upstairs. This moment is one of those times. Here I am typing, so you can guess which won out….
Bismillah, no! (Oh, the things
you are yet to learn)
Women and their penis fantasies…
imagine that.
Your urinary dilemma reminded me
of a concert restroom sign…
Gentlemen: Stand closer to the
stage, it’s shorter than you think.
Ladies: Please stay seated for
the entire performance.
….who said it was urinary?