I know you’re all concerned about me, moving to the city and all, but I would like to reassure you that I am fine and dandy. I’ve seen all of the sights, had great food (but not as good as your Southern home cookin’, of course), and I’ve made a bunch of friends! I bumped into a group hanging out in Golden Gate Park—don’t worry, they don’t live there, I asked—and they wanted me to join them!
They’re a very happy group, and they remind me a lot of everything that you used to teach me when you were raisin’ me from a tot. They even gather around and talk about the lessons they learned as they scramble all over the city!
There was this group of three women—Roman Showers, Just Natasha, and Primal Vagina— who wandered off on their own and were catcalled by a stranger—but he was really sweet about it, told them they looked nice, and they could have a ride in his van and everything. The group was grateful they turned the offer down and came back to drink with us. It was like you always say—two birds in the hand, and one with a bush!
DeWalt Thunderpussy also got ogled after he took his shirt off, and also had some interesting assignations in the Castro over the weekend. Everyone was really confused by his claims, but I don’t think we should doubt them-- booty is in the eye of the beholder, after all.
Some incidents I don’t think we got the full story on, however. Prances with Wolves left Slug in the middle of trail for a Port-A-Potty, but he seemed mighty pleased when he came out of it. No word if anyone snuck in afterward, but if they did they failed to leave the door open. C’mon—what’s good for a goosing, is good for a gander.
Those weren’t the only strange encounters of the night, unfortunately. There was a man running around offering people candy out of a large martini shaker. I know what you say about rangers with candy, Ma, but it wasn’t Just Joel after all—it was Just Doesn’t Get It! No word on what happened to anyone after they ate the candy though! Hah.
These people do get up to some strange things. This dude Masterbaster was kicked out of the Tourist Club for being a real dog, and his best friend Just Stan was so upset that he went right along with him and howled about it all the way home. Never cry, wolf. I think he was feeling better about it today, though.
He wasn’t the only crazy one over the weekend—Gobble My Ass decided to run ten million miles only to do more running – she who travels by car, knows much—while Bitch’s Bitch apparently had to follow the same route over and over—if you want a job done right, do it yourself six times, and counting. They both were chastised for their behavior.
What’s inspiring about this group is that they all pull together, most of the time. Bambi’s Bitch and Dick Shank Redemption were hoisting the kegerator between the two of them, while Udder Moron was holding some of the tubing. “Don’t worry,” they said, “We’re big, strong men. We’ve got this. Just carry the umbilical cord.” And Udder Moron promptly sat it on top of the kegerator and walked away. Don’t look a gift Moron in the mouth!
They even celebrate birthdays here, Ma! Cuming Mutha was 69 (they say he’s been 69 for three years now, impressive!) He swallowed his beer before you can blink an eye—just like you say, don’t teach your grandmother how to suck kegs!
Some people were visiting from out of town. Hard in the Saddle serenaded us with a song, claiming that no one was old enough to remember it, but he was then joined by Closet Twitcher. I saw them eying each other a bit later—birds of a feather f**ck together, after all. Some of the group just hadn’t been there a while—Cirque Du So Lame (better Nate, than ever), Taste the Trojan (it tastes like chicken), and Just Kristen. Kristen was very confused as to whether she was still a virgin, despite seeing several doctors about it, and having a twin (Now I Know My STDs) who also should have been to several doctors by now. Not to worry, Ma, the penis mightier than the sword, so we’ll take care of her in a jiffy.
And at last, the group celebrated their hares who were responsible for where they went tonight. Most people who were happiest had stood by the lesson that a ditch in time saves nine (miles), but everyone managed to find their way to the beer, and that is what matters.
Ma, I have to tell you that with friends like these, I don’t know if I ever can come back home. But if I do, I’ll be sure to share with you a very special song about Texas that I learned tonight.
Your Dearest Son