fly on the wall
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1/5/2008 2:23:38 AM
---- Updated 1/5/2008 2:41:41 AM
The time I slept in Streisand's bed.
This story may seem improbable, but who nose.
It started on a day at a state park. I was 17, went for a day of swimming and was fishing for quarters under the snackbar porch when I first heard that lovely tune - One Less Bell To Answer, on my sweet transistor. Sung by the woman with the half-gold, half-platinum voice. That song changed my life, though when it ran through my head all the genders were reversed. It said "one less babe to pick up after" rather than 'man', for instance.
There are too many god damned bells to answer in my life I concluded and I don't even like fried eggs but I went out to eat some later on that night. I was just wiping a drop of orange juice off my chin when my eyes were caught directly in the glare of the funny girl herself. Did she peek at my lower torso or was I just imagining it? I said "Yo". She said "Yo, yourself mister." I sheepishly told her I liked her new song which I didn't realize was recorded 20 years ago and a few minutes later, when I lied and said I'm a member of Greenpeace she invited me to a soiree at her house. Being rather unsophisticated, I thought "soiree" meant to errrr.. make love, so that night exactly 2 minutes after entering her door, as she walked me into a back room to lie my personal effects down, I shut and locked the door and dosie-doed her onto the lacey bed. At first she was sort of shocked but then got this why the fuck not look on her face and licked my left ear.
Want to know what music Babs plays during a frolick? I found this interesting. Black Sabbath. Anyway she has an underrated butt. The only part I found a little distasteful was when she seized my underwear as a souvenir, bringing em out, twirling em all around I guess to show Ryan O'Neal and all her degenerate acting friends that she was still a vital woman. I asked her if she wanted to do this again next year and she said not til after the election. I told her it's all good but I won't be waiting, not with Helen Reddy and Anne Murray waitin' in the wings for my special brand of funk. Love, soft as an easy Cher. So, anyhoo, Barbara lovingly called me Starfucker and sent me on my way.
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