Doug and I worked together at the Punchline in Sacramento and were joined by our friend Henry Phillips, a fantastic guitarist and hilarious comedian. Henry happened to be in the area performing at a wedding (and really, if tunes like "The Bitch Song" and "Jerkin' Around" aren't appropriate at a wedding, where are they)?
After the show, we head around the corner to a little karaoke joint where Doug knows the bartender who must get a bonus from the Jaegermeister people for unloading so much of it.
At the point that I'm called a pussy for not doing a seventh shot, Henry takes his cue and asks if he can borrow my cell phone. I let him and he proceeds to make a long call to somebody in Texas. Because that's what comics do when they're together: find ways to screw each other over.
Properly inebriated, we take our turns on the mike. On this particular night, I'm wearing a red wig and belting out my best Britney Spears on top of the bar. I jump down for my big finale when Doug walks over and yanks the wig off my head. He puts it crookedly on his own head and looks like he's 20 years too late for a "This is Spinal Tap" audition. Doug then performs his infamous rendition of "I am Woman," which, of course, ends with his pants around his ankles. Even with the shaggy do, Doug manages to get a heavyset middle-aged woman to slow dance with him on the next song and he looks like he's in love. Despite his persistent attempts, he can't get the woman to french kiss him.
Perhaps inspired by the way drouping trou landed Doug a lady, Henry pulls out his own two inches of silly putty and asks how he measures up. I tell him to chub up a little bit and return for reevaluation. He spends the next hour or so working on it, finally blaming his poor showing on the Jaeger. I don't know what it is with comics exposing themselves but I've had quite a few whip out their dicks in front of me in public. Maybe they're hoping that once I see it I'll think "I MUST have that!!" like a cute pair of shoes.
Around 3 am, we start our trek back to the hotel in the torrential rain with Doug still wearing the wig. We see some shopping carts and Doug decides we need to take them with us. So Doug and Henry each grab a cart. I opt to ride in Henry's. We go about 30 feet when Henry hits a bump and I fly from the cart. You can't help but stop and think about what you're doing with your life when you're stinking drunk, wet and you've just fallen out of a shopping cart into a puddle of polluted rainwater. As quickly as Doug decided to take the carts, he decides they need to dispose of them. He and Henry hoist the carts over a ledge into a water-filled ditch. I think he was expecting some spectacular splash followed by the carts being whisked quickly down the ravine but they just fell in with a plunk and stayed there.
We close out the evening with greasy pancakes at Denny's and a conversation about the ideal size of labia lips (classy people, ain't we)? After polling everybody on the graveyard shift, we learned that when it comes to women, size doesn't matter.