On Saturday Pedro and myself graced some hole-in-the-wall dive club with our sparkly wit and presence. We were showcasing some new numbers we’ve been working on. By “showcasing” I mean trying them out on some elderly and possibly demented drunks who can’t afford to go see someone more famous. But man, those people got a show. You ain’t seen nothing till you’ve seen a guy with an electric blue, glittery, throbbing organ, in action. My jaw ached from grinning so hard.
Things went down pretty well. Some old dear with one of those distracting blue tooth things sticking out of her ear, kept lifting her skirt and flashing her giant, puce-colored, hose-clad ass at me from the dance floor and blowing kisses. She was 75 if she was a day. To be truthful, at first I thought she might have escaped from a seniors’ home or something because she sort of had a cross-eyed, pinched expression and when she lifted her skirt I thought she was about to take a steaming dump on the floor, until I realized her face just always looked like that and she was being “sexy”. Lord preserve us. Tony will hit most female specimens, folks, but even he has a line that shall not be crossed. That lady was about 50 miles over it and halfway to hell.
No hotties at all in the place which was a disappointment. Even Pedro was starting to look good to me.
Hah not really. Jesus Christ.
I did a short interview into a tape recorder for some old geezer who remembers the heady days of Sinatra and Martin and who’s planning a radio show at the retirement community he lives in. He wanted old Tony here to be the face of the new young brat pack or something. Well I guess 40 is young to HIM at least. He was there for the Declaration of Independence, for fuck’s sake.
No other action though. A peaceful weekend. I gave the Captain a night or two off and now he’s all hyperactive and jumping around like a chick on a trampoline. Tonight might have to be interesting meaning the Captain might have to get up close and personal with some ladyparts.
Laters my fine amigos.