|Some More Cristal?|
"How are you feeling, Denny," you ask?
Well, that's very kind of you. Let me see.
I smell like a six week old urinal cake from a hockey locker room.
I'm down almost $5,000.
And I likely have upward of 17 new species of bacteria swimming around wantonly somewhere in the well-oiled love missile that some call my "body."
Yes, it was the greatest weekend of my young life.
As a public service, Denny Dance is listing a few of the things that I did to others/had done to me/did to myself, with a few fake ones tossed in as a meager dose of plausible deniability for the more legally defunct and morally decrepit amongst them.
Hopefully living through me will somehow brighten your cheerless existence as an elderly, third shift Sam's Club door greeter. I know living through me brightens mine.
Promenaded for several rapturous city blocks with new Knick Carmelo Anthony's oversized paws buried deep in my rear jeans' pockets.
Lost myself in a relaxing Calgon bubble bath--while swilling generous amounts of Sambuca--with a full length rabbit coat-adorned Karaoke Activity Partner and (for 16 minutes) Love in the Dumps. Sorry, MB, the water wasn't cold.
Took fifth place (robbed) in the Trick Out With Your Prick Out Night at The Hairy Bear nightclub. (Apparently Captain Eduardo's Rasputinian mane didn't carry the day for Denny.)
Greedily devoured a generous portion of a live Norway rat to win a wager with that creepy-eyebrowed ghoul from Saturday Night Live.
Totally did it, like, 73 times in three days with over 200 women.
Turned a tidy Manhattan charmer into a clothing optional, anything goes meth den in less than 14 hours--and still got my security deposit back the next day.
Re-impregnated Natalie Portman just minutes before her flight to the Oscars.
Transformed a staid Bachelorette party into grimy pleasure-fest using only my ample moustache, a bottle of 5 Hour Energy, an Oster air popper and the 26th Psalm.
Made sweet love to you.
Catch you next time,