Hi there compadres. Once again, apologies for the big lapse in posting but I’ve been busy as shit. I’ve had shows almost every damn night and only a handful were for the seniors, before you go suggesting it. Sure, none of them are exactly big time but they pay the rent you dig? And they’re usually a ton of fun. Even the seniors. In fact I’d say the seniors know how to appreciate a dude in cerise satin. I mean have you seen the shit they wear? They sport the polyester like it’s going out of style. The static shock you get from entering a room full of old people could knock an elephant on its ass. But man, watch out for those old ladies, they’re killer. If I had a dollar for every old dear who’s gotten her withered old pincers into my hiney, I could retire already. Some nights entering an old folks hall is like watching outtakes for “Night of the Living Dead”.
Not that I’m being deliberately mean to the oldies. Hell, I’m not too proud to admit I had me a time, a couple years back, with an older gal. Judith, her name was and she was 67 years old and spunky as all hell. She was like Bea Arthur if Bea Arthur didn’t have a penis. Tall, sassy, deep husky voice. I can’t vouch for Bea but Judith could do things with a vagina that could make a man cry. Or bruise. For an old bird she sure had some kegel strength. And so maybe I was drunk at the time, clouding my judgment a little, I’d still have done her sober, the saucy old minx.
Still, the old people I perform for ain’t often like Judith. Usually they’re totally crazy, half inebriated, tubby, wrinkly little demons of pure evil, dressed in nylon that would make the seventies cry and sporting stupendous pastel colored hair. And that’s just the guys! Heh.
You ain’t seen nothing till you’ve seen a room full of 70 year olds letting it all hang out to a Stones cover, while their bat-wing under arms flap around in the wind and their decrepit old pelvises gyrate and creak like an old gate till inevitably someone puts their back out and has to be stretchered to hospital. You’re delighted by the free bar at these events let me tell you. A few martinis dulls the torture of seeing 80 year old Elsie lifting her skirt and flashing a nylon hose-covered ass to the room. An ass that starts at her knees and winds up at her underarms. Try erasing that image from your brain.
So yeah that about sums it up for my life lately. I’m hoping for a break soon. Mainly because all this gigging is tiring me out and leaving me too bushed to appropriately tend to the ladies. The Captain’s not talking to me because he hasn’t pierced a vagina in about nine days. It’s time to get my life back!