Lady Bomb Escorts

you know you want it…

April 07, 2006

A beacon of light in a dark world
Ed McMahon: Alive and Loving It!
Whew, that was a close one…

We sat at Table One at Twingo’s West drinking margaritas and sharing their world-famous nacho platter.

Marty Sherman had finally introduced me to his friend, Pat Sajak, and the three of us we’re having one hell of a time. Besides being an extremely gracious man, Pat is also one of Hollywood’s funniest.

He stood on top of our table telling the filthiest version of The Aristocrats I’d ever heard.

I almost peed myself.

At one point he had his pants down simulating anal sex, thrusting with loud grunts until he finally pulled his trousers up, snapped his fingers and delivered the punchline.

The applause around us was deafening. A complimentary bottle of champagne appeared on the table.

“Goddamn it, Pat,” I said. “Everything Marty told me about you is true…I’m glad I finally met you.” We ordered more margaritas.

“You funny, funny son of a bitch.” I went on. ”You should do serious comedy instead of hosting Jeopardy.” He stared at me for a moment then slapped me on the back.

“What? Why, you rotten bastard.” Pat knew I was kidding.

“Trebek wears a cheap toupee, works from a script, and once tried to fuck Vanna--can you believe it? He couldn’t get it up!”

We laughed uproariously. Our waitress whispered in Marty's ear.

It was an unconfirmed rumor about Ed McMahon. Something about his passing.

I had grown up watching and studying McMahon as Johnny Carson’s sidekick on the Tonight show, and many years later--though I didn’t win--I did my spinning plates routine on Star Search and McMahon was quite kind to me.

“You got it, kid. Work hard and you’ll realize your dreams,” he told me. I never forgot those words. Because of him, I'd done well in this business. And now it sounded like the man was gone.

Pat grabbed his cell phone and disappeared. Word had gotten around the room.

Sadness wafted through the air. No one could confirm this horrible news; instead, everyone thought good thoughts and told their favorite Ed McMahon anecdotes.

Ten minutes later, Pat came back and sat down with a serious look on his face.

“Well?” Marty asked.

Pat put his finger to his lips, asking for silence...

We sat that way for five minutes thinking the worst when we suddenly heard a resounding “Whoaooooooooooooooooooo!” at the front entrance.

It was Ed McMahon!

One patron stood at his table and began to clap. The rest of us followed, clapping wildly with tears streaming down our faces.

It was Ed McMahon in a silk blue bathrobe, four sheets to the wind.

He high-fived some of Hollywood’s biggest names as he walked towards our table. Ed and Pat embraced warmly, and once again I met the man most responsible for my success as an entertainer.

Ed sat down and ordered the table a round.

We drank for a couple more hours. Marty had a waitress on his lap, I drunkenly tried to spin some plates, and Ed told his version of The Aristocrats and actually crapped on the table.

The owners politely asked us to leave. Marty picked up the tab.

Outside, I caught a whiff of dung. There was a quarter sized splotch of poop on the right sleeve of my brand new Calvin Klein jacket. Fuck.

But I didn’t care. I laughed softly.

I was glad Ed McMahon was still alive.

A.) Me, too. I’m crying like a beaten child right now.
B.) I saw you on Star Search…you sucked.
C.) You and Marty Sherman have the best jobs in the world.

Brilliant! Brilliant!
Post a Comment

<< Home


February 2006   March 2006   April 2006   May 2006   June 2006   July 2006  

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?