Bill Up Front; Bitch in Back. (Yeah I Said It!)

The latest issue of Entertainment Weekly, dedicated to the Vampire phenomenon, arrives in my mail-box today. I'm flummoxed but grateful at how EW continues to give so generously. For foolish non-subscribers; you can check out 13 Hot Vampire Women here, and 14 Hot Vampire Men here.

Good Day.

Outrageous Local Gossip: Dumped Edition

Two Month Chump
What local little missy played the “I could really use a friend” card, that interfered with this bloggers dinner plans, and sent him scrambling to re-schedule and accommodate? (I will you give you one hint, it’s NOT Bobble or Twin) Expecting the worse, since the “I could really use a friend” card should be used to trump dinner plans only in instances of extreme familial upset, extreme physical battery, a break-up from a relationship or friendship that has lasted at LEAST four years (and that’s a maybe), or the loss of a pet that you’ve had for at LEAST 15 years (Don't come crying to me when that Great Dane croaks at age 6. You knew it was coming). When I arrived at her house, the crumbling little drama-queen moaned, “It’s over! We’ve broken up! He still has ties to his ex and his ex well… she she she…called me!” I don’t know what it was that held me back from cussing her out for ruining my dinner plans so she could puke this nonsense up at my feet (maybe it’s because she’s been good to me), but I opted instead to reach deep down inside and offer some truth with a sprinkling of compassion. I said, “It’s been two months dear. You don’t even KNOW him so you can only be so attached. You jumped into it, head-first as you are prone to do, deliberately choosing to ignore ALL the warning signs, and for heavens sake were they plentiful. I told you my Spidey-sense was tingling on several instances, as were your's, yet you freely chose to disregard common sense and jumped into the shallow end of the pool, and now you want to act surprised when you hit concrete. Shake it off, end it gracefully and stop taking his AND her calls, as that is beneath you. Just be happy you’re getting out of this with your dignity intact and without the clap. You’ll be more than a’ight. The person who actually suffered the most out of all this is me, as you ruined my dinner for this clap-trap.” She then prepared a wonderful, off the cuff, pesto-n -pasta dinner that helped ease my suffering. The next day, just as I was drafting the dreaded, “This Friendship Has Run its Course” letter, she sent me a text saying, “Thanks for last night. Who knew that YOU of all people would make me feel better about this.” I was moved and decided to keep her. I’m sending dreaded “This Friendship Has Run Its Course” letter to someone else as I don’t want it to go to waste….



The Sassy Ingrate
Not all attempts at helping with heart-break end well. What blogger helped his ungrateful cousin write a paper for her summer college-course only to hear about her woes and then get attitude?

Ungrateful Cousin: I’m bummed about my grades; I can’t find a summer job and my boyfriend aint actin right. I think he’s going to break up with me.
Blogger: Welcome to life dear. Study harder, we’re in a recession so try harder, and he’s a man so he’ll never act right. But, what did I tell you? Put on the “Superwoman” song by Alicia Keys that I sent you. “Even when you’re a mess still put on a vest with an S on your chest because you’re a…”
Ungrateful Cousin: You know what? I’m not in the mood for your corny bullsh*t today!
*click*

Yup, she hung up. What blogger then laughed for a good three minutes because not only does he love the word “corny” when paired with "bullshit", but he truly appreciates a good showing of pluck?



It's Not You, It's Me Parts One & Two
1) When someone, who has been featured shirtless on this blog recently, got dumped, he received the standard “It’s not you it’s me” excuse. After a few weeks, he called the young lady back and said, “That’s a bad excuse! Why did you really dump me? Was it another dude?” She answered, honestly, “No, you’re just not…well…you’re just not very fun. I’m used to dating guys who are more fun than you.” While this may hurt your feelings, it didn’t hurt his as he exclaimed, “Well, there’s nothing I can do about that so I feel better now.”
2) What guy didn’t go down so easy when he got the “It’s not you it’s me” excuse? He asked, “What exactly are you looking for in a man?” When the high reaching lass answered, “I’m looking for an athletic baseball player that’s tall and handsome and successful.” (I’m not kidding, nor am I kidding at his answer) He replied, “Well I play softball, I’m six feet tall and I’m pretty successful. What you’re looking for is Derek Jeter. Here's a newsflash for you, Derek Jeter is not looking for YOU!”

Let's say it together....Owned……….

This has been Outrageous Local Gossip: Heartbreak Edition.

Vacationing Editor To Regulate Upon Return

My pompous but lovable wind-bag of an Editor in Chief is on a much deserved vacation (see photo above from his hotel room in New York City) but the moment he gets back heads are going to roll! He'll be drafting a termination letter to our useless Electronics Correspondent, who claims to be suffering from an ongoing case of writers block, and then interviewing potential replacements. He'll also be sending warning letters to those who have been provided links (to the left) that are too lazy to update their blogs (potential evictees include the lame duck Canadian of the Week and the scatter-shot blog that Marja writes). I'll be here in the interim, serving up threats, finger wags and neck rolls to those that have termination or threatening letters coming their way. Pray you are not on that list.

Good Day.

Will This Curb HBO Cancellation?

Seinfeld co-creator, Larry David, reunited with the so rich they can't even be bothered with aging, cast of Seinfeld.

According to the article here: The seventh season of Larry David's improvised HBO comedy, which returns on Sept. 20, will be centered around the TV version of David finally agreeing to do a reunion of the defining '90s sitcom. All four "Seinfeld" castmembers -- Jerry Seinfeld, Jason Alexander, Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Michael Richards -- will play themselves in multiple episodes. "For years, I've been asked about a 'Seinfeld' reunion," David told reporters at the Television Critics Association summer press tour in Pasadena. He always refused, but, "Then I thought it might be very funny to do that on 'Curb.' "We'll see writing, see aspects of the read-through, parts of rehearsal, see the show being filmed, and see it on TV," David explained. "You won't see the entire show. You'll see parts of the show. You'll get an idea of what happened (to the 'Seinfeld' characters) 11 years later. Within the show, it will be incorporated into regular 'Curb' episodes."


Curses! I was going to cancel HBO the second True Blood and Hung (which started off as wobbly as the past its prime Entourage, but has found its footing) had their season finales. I had no idea Curb Your Enthusiasm already had 6 seasons under its belt because I've never seen an episode. I hope its funny, because Seinfeld is my favorite sitcom of all time but I'll be damned if I suffer through a bad show...unless the cast is really really hot (like Smallville).

We'll see....

All Hail The Promo Shirt

One of the many Promo shirts I received from Con this year. Marja gave me a ticket (no, it wasn't golden) and said "Go see the wizard, he'll give you lots of stuff". I'm not kidding. There really WAS a Wizard and it blew my mind. I'm still not right. Anyway, The promotional shirt is my wardrobe staple (For occasions where a "nicer" or "hipper" t-shirt is required, I wear one of the two t-shirts Stavvy bought me for my birthday), since liquor promo shirts seem to be drying up or repeating themselves, Comic-Con came just in time. For a minute there, I thought I'd actually have to go shopping for T-shirts. I know! In this economy! Dodged that bullet...

Good Day

Crazy Woman Creamed

Today was an important day for the Birthday Party committee because it is the actual birthday of The Crazy Woman. Yes, the woman that I forcibly REMOVED from her position as head of the Birthday Party committee because she really sucked at it. I told No-Nonsense Laura it was extremely important this be a tasty celebration so we could rub the Crazy Woman's face in it (Please don't think me cruel. But I suffered through six years of nasty cakes, dry pies and rotten fruit, thanks to that b*tch, so there are some lingering hostilities and spite). No-Nonsense delivered, of course, and I almost felt pity for The Crazy Woman as she sat there looking owned (Although she did get in a dig later when she sneered that the carrot cake was "too rich") I'm still too exhausted from Con to blog much about it. But these photos contain the casualty count.



Now leave me alone. I will better tomorrow if I can get one more glorious night of rest, like last night (No kidding...I passed out and then did not move for the rest of the night. Making the bed this morning took one second as the sheets weren't ruffled in the least.) . I was so exhausted from the lingering con burn-out AND playing two sets of grueling and competitive tennis with Beefy-Jon (if you must know who won, the answer is we took one set each....although I won a total of 10 games over-all to his 9. But lets not quibble on that.) that I really didn't need the Xanax given to me by Fun Gay Benjamin, but I took it anyway.

Good Day

Once More To The Con Well

Scarlett Johansson and her formidable booty-shelf.

I'm still suffering from Con exhaustion and have nothing to say. Fortunately other people do so I'll provide you with some links.


Eliza Dushku

First of all, the EW/SyFy party that I was "invited" to was a bigger deal than even I suspected. I wanted to go simply because Entertainment Weekly is my favorite magazine, but according to the article here; Once again, the highlight of Comic-Con was the annual Syfy/Entertainment Weekly party at the Hotel Solamar – a relaxed gathering of several hundred stars, producers, executives and media folk on the hotel’s fourth floor pool deck and arguably the hottest ticket at that four-day fan fest.


Jennifer Love Hewitt and her busted boyfriend, Jamie Kennedy. Obviously, he makes her laugh.

Ha! I'm so happy I was "invited". Not faring so well was OGBFF (Marja's Orange Gay BFF). Last time I saw him, he was on the curb, outside of the party as I was heading in, trying to talk his way in with finger-wagging, sass and bullying tactics. It was all for naught according to the same article; The publicity teams from Syfy and EW heard every plea, excuse and threat in the book from people who tried to get into the party but were turned away. The red carpet area, which used to be on the fourth floor of the hotel but had been moved to the street in order to control the crowd, attracted even more passers-by who wanted in. Heavens that's a lot of gushing. There is even more gushing here.


Then Entertainment Weekly has a pictorial titled Shooting Stars: 70 Portraits From Comic-Con 2009, that I found extremely useful because I actually forgot I saw a few of these people.
Like Rachel McAdams, shown above with the quirky Robert Downey Jr.


...and Cameron Diaz (who seems really likable in person) and James Mardsen (who should thank his lucky stars I was busy or....)


and Denzel Washington and Gary Oldman (both of whom reek of charisma) and That 70's Show's Mila Kunis (a knock-out), all from the cast of 2010's The Book of Eli


and Audrina Partridge of The Hills. Possibly the days biggest surprise because she was taller and much hotter than I expected.

View the EW pictorial here.

Now leave me alone. I'm still in recovery.

New Logo Courtesy of DALONZI

Like the new logo? I do. It was designed, out of the goodness of his own heart, by Twin's on-again, off-again, on-again, off-again, on-again, off-again, ex-boyfriend, Darrell of DALONZI Photography and Design. Check out his stuff here.

All The Con "Wrap Up" You Get And Need

A smug Mik, Beefy-Jon, and HnH Dan all have one thing in common. They all adore me and think I'm precious.

Look here...there will be no big ass Comic-con photo parade this year because I am officially OVER IT! I can't even get inspired after 5 days of the horror of fan-boy funk, working my fingers to the bone, not sleeping in my own bed (however comfy and plush the bedding at Hard Rock Hotel), and eating sandwich after sandwich after sandwich. It did make me appreciate the little things, as I was so thrilled to get back home, watch True Blood and have real food (I was actually eager to cook, and my extremely simple dinner of grilled Cajun chicken, rosemary potatoes, and string beans, seasoned from a recipe I obtained from the Blow Up Doll, was so good that I almost wept openly over the plate. If you don't believe me, then ask Emo, who was also on the sandwich diet since Monday. His eyes bulged as he exclaimed, "This is the sh*t!"). I even ("gasp") don't mind being back to work because the people here are more sane and less busted, but will confess that I really enjoyed my time with fellow volunteers (unlike me, they were willing volunteers) Alisha the belly-dancer and Cathy the Hard-Candy Lady.


B.J. at the Entertainment Weekly Syfy party. I could have had good pictures here but B.J. stopped me from pestering the attendees. My head exploded when I was at the bar at the same time as Ben from Lost and Sweet D from Its Always Sunny and the bartender asked for my order first! It pays to have a huge head!


Now don't get the wrong impression, I had a lot of fun, and after I've recovered I might tell you about the Entertainment Weekly party I attended with Beefy-Jon (Who was a lot of fun and in desperate need of the entire weekend, to get back to his nerd, comic-book reading roots. That reminds me...I still need to tell his wife that I caught him in bed with another man in the hotel room). B.J. had to stop me from slobbering all over the guests in attendance (cast members of True Blood, Lost, and Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia!). I will tell you this now; outside of the Entertainment Weekly party (I left that shin-dig so completely obliterated from all the free booze that I told everyone in the hotel lobby that they were a mess and should get back to their hotel room!).


You should sit for this. See the shots above? They cost $300 each. No I am not joking. I am as serious as a stroke. It is some kind of special Don Julio tequila. I'm also not joking about this...one of the people in our party had to have sex with the bartender as payment!

I will share one thing with you...despite seeing Denzel Washington, Robert Downey Jr., Scarlett Johassen (stunning stunning stunning with an amazing booty-shelf), Megan Fox (lollipop alert!), Josh Holloway (the 6th finest man on the planet, almost defines fine), Robert Pattinson (meh) and Gary Oldman (almost defines cool), I remained completely unruffled, as I'm seriously jaded and OVER it, until I ran into Terry Crews at the celebrity packed Hard Rock Hotel (I was so excited that I immediately sent Emo a text "OMIGOD I am at the elevator with the guy from White Chicks!" and he knew exactly who I was talking about). If you ask, "Who the f*ck is Terry Crews?" Then I suggest you watch the video below from the absolutely horrible Wayans brother movie, White Chicks. This minute clip alone kept the movie from being completely worthless.



I know this raggedy ass wrap-up does not match the grandeur of years past but that's too damn bad. And with that....

Good Day

This Blog Closed Until July 28th

Unless the lazy Editor-In-Chief gets his sh*t together and gets out his Letter from the Editor for July, there will be no new updates on this blog until Tuesday, July 28th, as I'll be under Marja's thumb for the next four days as she embarks on her annual reign of terror as the most powerful woman in San Diego for four days. Her tentacles have expanded this year to encircle even more blog regulars or semi-regulars. Those attending the con this year (either working their butts off or simply for leisure) include Emo-Elf, Beefy-Jon, N.H.F., HNB, The controversial 98-lb Neil, HnH-Dan, AT&T, CNN, OGBFF and a slew of others. While I won’t be able to enjoy the Con this year, you best believe I’ll be bringing a sense of propriety and refinement, sprinkled with a bit of warmth, to the proceedings.

Good Day.

Forecast: Record Levels Of Fanboy Funk

So these people (in a photo snapped just moments ago by Marja) are in line for the Twilight: New Moon panel (and I'm not mad at them; Robert Pattinson is the 256th finest man on this planet) that is taking place in Hall H at Comic-con at the San Diego civic center....tomorrow. That woman on the left, in purple, is going to be quite ripe by the time those doors open. Furthermore, My co-worker, Bigger Chris, came to my desk yesterday to shoot the sh*t about Comic-con and he already smelled like a sweaty bear. He is taking tomorrow and Friday off to attend the con and I can only imagine how musty he will be after walking from panel to panel all day long.

Just so you know.

Aint that the Tooth!

Popular Tobin, Twin, Plump Donna, Stavvy and a mixologist from New York.

Here are a few photos from Twin's booze event at the Hard Rock Hotel pool yesterday (and yes Alisha the belly-dancer, people drink more in a recession, for comfort, so Liqour rep is the it job in San Diego). I've been to enough of these "events" to last me a lifetime (they run about 80% no/20% yes for being worth the effort of attending, but remember I hate to leave the house so those percentages are somewhat skewed), but this one, after a boring start, really picked up I was pissed about it, because I had to leave to meet Marja for Comic-con training and role-play*. I moaned like a baby, as pretty people began to spill out of the wood-work ("Oh hell NO! Is that Toothy?" "Dr. James should be grateful I'm busy!"), and possible blog based mockery sprouted ("That mixologist is either the worlds first pregnant man or he needs to stop sampling his own concoctions!") Not helping matters was the text I received from Stavvy, hours later, that said "Its picking up!" HAHAHAHHAHA! I thought it had picked up enough! Oh well!


Stavvy, who was working those shorts (snap! snap! snap!) and I wish I got a shot of the high heels she paired with them, Donna the bloated flight attendant, and Dr. James, worlds premiere bartender/chiropractor.


Just as the gossip was getting juicy (And special thanks to Stavvy for somehow managing to bring up the blog regular she is unnervingly obsessed with only ONCE! Instead of her usual once every 5 minutes), and the party picking up; jug-headed N.H.F. arrived to collect me, throw a wet blanket on fun, and escort me to my training/role-playing session.


A Toothy sighting! There's Pepsodent™ in that there clutch.

*Get your mind out of the gutter! Not that kind of role play! After years of me attending the Con in a jackass and care-free manner, not giving a damn about anything or anyone, but lazily volunteering for a couple of hours (if you could call it that) solely so I could ogle celebrities and obtain front of the line privileges; Marja has flexed her muscle as the most powerful woman in San Diego (for four days each year!) and hoisted actual responsibility on me. Since I owe her dearly for enriching the quality of life; I will attack my tasks with the gusto and efficiency befitting such responsibility. I also have a room at the Hard Rock Hotel from Wed-Sun and will use this responsibility as an excuse to continue not to get any.

Even Beefier's Buffet Trumps Cluck

I'll tell you this...although he doesn't cook very often (I'll be candid...he cooks so infrequently I'd forgotten he knows how) Beefy-Jon is a perfectionist when it comes to his cooking and he served up a very tasty dinner (along with a generous heaping of right wing propaganda) in honor of his dad, Even-Beefier. As a matter of fact, the food was so good it more than made up for my ears ringing from the non-stop prattle of key members of The Cluck Crew*. I'll continue this candid spree; Beefy-Jon needs to focus MORE on his cooking, as an outlet, and less on his slightly unnerving obsession with another blog regular (it simply isn't healthy and is VERY annoying).

Good Day.





Here Gina-Gab, veteran member (and one of my favorites) of The Cluck Crew, stops gabbing just long enough to make her plate.

*The Cluck Crew is a group of yammering, jabber-jaw and gossipy women (With exception of honorary member, N.H.F., also known as King-Cluck). Key members include Stavvy (the empress of cluck, who too is unnervingly obsessed with a blog regular and needs to move on) and Krazy-Kim (also head chair-person of the "Yes Men Committee" but that's a blog for another day).

Gay Pride: Sodomites, Hold My Baby, Plus Igor and His Compromised Pedi-Cab

(Disclaimer: the dumb editor-in-chief pressured me to get this blog out and then disappeared before he could proof it. We regret any spelling or grammatical error within.)
This years diverse gay pride crew (minus late arrival, Brad the Cad) assembles. Twins house-mate a.k.a. the fat flight attendant (who provided transport to the parade, but ditched us, thus leading to a situation of moral compromise I'll describe later), Lance La'beutaime (I think this is the first time I actually went to gay pride with another gay person, so I was a little disappointed when Lance arrived looking bloated and busted, due to a hangover, but he pulled it together as the day progressed, and spared me public embarrassment), Twin, Emo (on his first of three wardrobe changes for the day) and Bobble. Let's just say the day was...legendary and befitting for such a special occasion.



This was the first meeting of Salt Lake City natives, Lance and Emo (in his second wardrobe change, although it has been slightly altered by N.H.F., who did the graphics for this picture after I told him that, upon meeting Emo, Lance clucked, "I want to have his babies!" To which I quipped, "Perhaps Twin will loan you her womb, that thing is not in use and as barren as the moon.").




The Parade:

I'll be candid; I was so busy running my fat mouth, boozing and carrying on that I saw very little of the actual parade. But it seemed nice. I will tell you that the comedic highlight came from the hilarious religious zealot, shown in the photo above, holding a street sign that says "No Parking In Rear Any Time". I'm sorry but I do NOT believe this man is the bigot he thinks he is, and is probably just going through the motions, at this point, because he's too frightened to hit the comedy circuit. literally had Emo and I unable to catch our breath because we were laughing so hard as the hilarious pseudo-bigot spat:

"Sodomites!"


"You'll Get It In the End all right!"

with perfect comedic timing and zing! After I finished drying my eyes from tears of laughter, not even the most muscle-bound and colorful of floats could hold my attention. But they tried...and from what little I saw it was a vast improvement over years past parades as there was more festive fun and less gaps between floats.











Recipients of this Years: "You better be lucky I'm busy" Award.

Whenever I see someone who looks a bit naughty, virile, and like they could deliver a light choking and a donkey punch; I bellow "You better be lucky I'm busy or..." I previously added, "or.... it would be ON!" but it is such an empty, directionless threat in the first place that there's no need to add to it. During the parade, I used this catch-phrase on two occasions. First when I saw the gent above and spat, "You better be lucky I'm busy or..." and snapped this photo. Much to my surprise, he laughed and asked, "Or what?" I would like to tell you that I did not say, "Oh nothing!" and then scurry off like a school-girl on crack, in order to catch up with everyone else (and regain a sense of safety and comfort). But I can't.


The second time I said it, it was at a safe distance about the gent having a red-bull in the photo above, but by the time I readied my camera for a shot.....well you see what happened. It was traumatic and I may retire my favorite phrase for the time being.

People At the Parade

Meow! Kittenish-Kristen and her seemingly limitless sex-appeal made a welcome return appearance! Twin said, "That Kristen is HOT!" When I over-enthusiastically agreed with her, Twin shyly asked, "Am I that sexy?" I told her, "Maybe when you grow up dear."


Facebook Friendly Alert! Here, Twin is seen bussing Scottie T. I have met Scottie T. ONCE in my life and afterwards he invited me to be his Facebook friend. Now I feel like I know him thanks to his relentless posts and onslaught of up to the minute updates! It was almost like seeing a celebrity. Oh and don't worry Popular-Tobin, Scottie plays for my team.


On the other hand, this tool is the kind of guy one should worry about. This is the kind of guy that goes to gay pride with his gay buddies to relentlessly hit on the hot women that accompany their shallow gay friends (he could learn a bit of discretion from Emo and Brad the Cad, who were also there to hit on defenseless, hot women but did so in a smoother manner). I will tell you this, although he came on like a freight-truck and almost man-handled Twin, his confidence was infectious, so no one was mad at him. Although he did need a hot oil treatment for that dry hair.


The interior of Rich's. It smelled like a giant, sweaty nut sack and I feared upchuck.

I don't know why but I just had to have a pic of this adorable sleeping baby. Perhaps it reminded me of Twins barren womb.

Twins buttocks made their first of many appearances when she welcomed one of her "besties", Brad the Cad (fun and well-liked by all but the women he's dated), who arrived on a Marge Simpson skateboard.

Last year, Brad asked, "What's a Cad?" after I coined him with the label. After he looked it up on Urban Dictionary; he no longer asks and accepts his nick-name willingly. Here are a few examples:
CAD
1. Regency-era swear word, meaning a man who doesn't treat women proper.
3. A rogue, or bounder. A cad is a man who is aware of the codes of conduct which separate a gentleman from a ruffian, but finds himself unable to quite live up to them. Cads are quite capable of disguising themselves as good chaps for some time, only revealing their true nature in circumstances of particular stress or temptation. Others embrace their caddishness whole-heartedly and delight in behaving in a manner which is, to be quite frank, not cricket.

Hold My Baby

Emo (on his third and final wardrobe change), Bobble and a random pride-goer, who was not even asked to participate, get caught up in the unexpected fun of "Hold My Baby!"

A rousing game of "Hold My Baby!" has become a pride tradition. That is when you pick up someone that is easily transportable (in this case, Twin & Bobble) and ask strangers to, "Hold My Baby!" while you bend over and tie your shoe. It is absolutely as preposterous, utterly immature and silly as it sounds, but for some reason, everyone in the vicinity gets swept up in the fun. I'm not kidding, after an initial struggle, both Twin and Bobble lost their minds and ran amok while screaming, "Me next! I want to play Hold My Baby again!" Highlight of the Game: I didn't realize there was a "wardrobe malfunction," and Twin's kitty had come out to play (again), when I asked a hefty lesbian to "Hold My Baby!" The hefty-lesbian growled, "I'd love to hold your baby!" and hungrily swept up Twin into her waiting, meaty arms. Was it wrong that I found that slightly erotic?

Igor and his Pedi-Cab

Dehydrated from the sun and ready to carry on elsewhere (and did we ever), Twin and Bobble hatched a plot to a get a free ride from fresh-faced (he looked thirteen) pedi-cab driver, Igor, in exchange for a peek of titty at the end of the ride. Yes, you read that correctly. They offered a flash of breast in exchange for a pedi-cab ride (Disclaimer to Bobble's Mum, Candy, who reads this blog: I'm so sorry. You did what you could and raised her right but its out of your hands now). Pity poor Igor. Not only did he have to peddle 600 lbs (350 were mine) We were the hottest of messes by this point and began to chant in unison, "Go Igor Go! Go!" at such volume that when we passed local hot spot, Urban Mo's, the patrons began to cheer us on as well.

Pity, pity poor Igor. There was so much going on that he crashed his bike, fell over (!!!), and then our pedi-cab slid into him! I was so startled that I yelled, "What are you doing? What the hell is wrong with you? Get up!" Poor Igor gave a temporary fix to his damaged bike and continued on...all for a flash of boob. He really needs to get out more.

The girls ante up! (Disclaimer to Bobble's Mum, Candy, who reads this blog: take some comfort in knowing that your daughter has perfectly shaped bosoms that don't drop or slide even a millimeter when freed from support and exposed to possibly under-age pedi-cab drivers. Good genes!) My camera battery had died by this point but I whipped out my trusty cell-phone just as quickly as the girls whipped out their breasts. Since the night got even crazier from there -I would have to start a Tea With Lemon-After Dark blog to describe it-we're done here.

Good Day.

A malnourished Bobble, passed out from the effort it took to flash her impossibly buoyant breasts.