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Sing With Me If It's Just For Today...
If I should fall behind, Guyster, wait for me.
Space dude
“Any boogers?” I turned my nose up for Mickey’s last minute inspection.

“No. How do my boobs look?” Her hands were cupped around her sizable mams, adjusting her black push-up bra that lit through her thin white blouse.

“Hot.” We were tooling up the curvy half-mile driveway of Dennis Tito’s estate for a small cocktail party thrown to celebrate his fifth anniversary of being the first private citizen who bought his way onto the space station. Around the last bend stood a house that’d dwarf the Carrington mansion with a full staff of valet parkers and butlers and lots of other people waiting around to wait on someone.

Luckily, I left Steve home, but his snot still coated all of the windows in my car with a murky white film and the experience of driving it now is one of a mobile kennel. I pitied the poor valet, in his crisp white suit, as he climbed into a car of black hair and dried drool.

The main butler, young and handsome and not at all like John Gielgud, ushered us into one of the public rooms in what I’d soon learn was a thirty-thousand square foot house. Cozy in that solid marble floor and Roman statue way that’d make Charles Foster Kane comfortable. We went straight to the bar; wine for Mickey and seltzer for me, a wedge of lime, please.

We started to look around the enormous room in a Holy shit and Where the hell are the finger food trays-kind of way, and tried to blend, difficult in a room filled with ghastly plastic surgery, beaded dresses barely covering sun damage, and blue blazers with brass buttons. “We have to find Mack,” I said, but we made absolutely no movement, just craned our necks around.

“Look.” Mickey was practicing her ventriloquism when she directed me with exaggerated eye movements to my left. Buzz Aldrin. Maybe he’s the third most famous astronaut, maybe most know him from the Ali G interview, but just as I saw him speaking with the host and another man, the other guy’s wine glass spilled all over the coffee table and a rug that looked as if it came from an ancient dynasty. The host calmly looked to his right and someone with a white towel immediately appeared to mop it up.

We wandered outdoors onto a patio that led to a lawn that was larger than most college campuses. Mack and his wife were leaning against one of the cocktail tables set up for the event. He’s the star of one of our new shows, Future Weapons, a former Navy Seal whose handshake is a walnut crusher. His wife was all-American sexy, and we made small talk while eating tiny food made out of duck and comfit (whatever the hell that is) and other stuff that couldn’t possibly make the meal my stomach expected.

Staff came around with baby xylophones that announced the start of some presentation, and I wanted to get out of there and Mickey was tipsy enough to start calling the host “space dude” but not to his face, yet, and before we knew it, we were in an even larger room with giant tapestries littering the walls.

The diminutive host started to blah-blah-blah, and Mickey and I got the church giggles, grabbing at each other and nearly toppling a marble statue twice my height. Then another guy who went into space droned through a slide show, but the food stopped and I was starving. The hands of my watch seemed to be going backward, and with no escape possible, Mickey and I played grab ass until some of the partygoers turned to tsk and shhh.

After the Here’s How We Poop In Space and the Dangerous Landing portions were over, and no one in the audience had questions, Mickey and I headed for the door. As we were leaving, she stopped to shake Buzz Aldrin’s hand while I said hello and thank you to the tiniest astronaut and host, Dennis Tito. Did you ever shake hands with someone who had absolutely no grip?

“Shit. Buzz Aldrin looked at me like I was a dirty whore,” Mickey said once we climbed back into my moving kennel.

“What’s your point?”
20 comments or Leave a comment
(Deleted comment)
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: May 11th, 2006 11:30 pm (UTC) (Link)
There was nothing comfortable about that house, at least the rooms that we were allowed to see.
uberdionysus From: uberdionysus Date: May 11th, 2006 10:42 pm (UTC) (Link)

I wish I was there. I would have taken lots of pictures.
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: May 11th, 2006 11:25 pm (UTC) (Link)
Man, I wish I would've brought my cam. This guy had his space suit sitting in a chair and Mickey was going to go pretend to give it a lapdance. Situations like that just don't come along that often to miss the photo moment.
(Deleted comment)
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: May 11th, 2006 11:29 pm (UTC) (Link)
It was kind of a small fundraiser thing for Space Adventures, a company that is promoting space tourism. Lots of rich space nerds. Someone just told me that Dennis Tito's house is the second biggest house in LA next to the Spellings home.
mickster From: mickster Date: May 11th, 2006 11:11 pm (UTC) (Link)


That was YOU grabbing my ass? The whole time I thought Buzz was buzzin' my cheeks...CRAP!!!
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: May 11th, 2006 11:22 pm (UTC) (Link)

Re: GRAB ASS????

I thought my fingers would be familiar to you by now.
journeyto From: journeyto Date: May 12th, 2006 12:12 am (UTC) (Link)
I confess that I read your entries twice. Just because I like them so much.
mengus From: mengus Date: May 12th, 2006 01:22 am (UTC) (Link)
Reading these glimpses into the social strata in your milieu is a favorite treat of mine, Terry.

How's that home project coming?
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: May 12th, 2006 02:17 am (UTC) (Link)
I've been meaning to write and thank you for the Peel Away suggestion. That shit works, and it isn't all sloppy like any of the other stuff.

I read your car entry today and I was trying to come up with some glib funny comment, but all I really wanted to say was that it was really good.
fidgetcub From: fidgetcub Date: May 12th, 2006 03:53 am (UTC) (Link)

Duck confit...

duck poached in duck fat, mmmmmmmmm, should I add it to the Tuesday menu?
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: May 12th, 2006 09:19 pm (UTC) (Link)

Re: Duck confit...

Um, yeah, NO!
stutts From: stutts Date: May 12th, 2006 03:53 am (UTC) (Link)
Awww. And here I thought it was going to be another orgy story.
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: May 12th, 2006 09:24 pm (UTC) (Link)
With this crowd, it wouldn't have made a very pretty picture.
quuf From: quuf Date: May 12th, 2006 05:32 am (UTC) (Link)
I'm so glad you misbehaved.
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: May 12th, 2006 09:21 pm (UTC) (Link)
We were like Moe Howard and Larry Fine invited to a mansion. It didn't end in a pie fight, though.
creactivity From: creactivity Date: May 12th, 2006 06:53 am (UTC) (Link)
Is this the Mickey I didn't get to meet thanks to that blasted marathon?

Shouldn't grip be a requirement if one is going to the space station? What if he can't hold on and ends up floating away?
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: May 12th, 2006 09:23 pm (UTC) (Link)
Same Mickey.

I think all you needed for his flight was $20,000,000.00. You'd think with all of his money, he'd be able to buy a grip.
(Deleted comment)
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: May 12th, 2006 09:23 pm (UTC) (Link)
Where are you when I need you?
From: thevadge Date: May 12th, 2006 10:10 pm (UTC) (Link)
Poodle here. I had to delete my journal while my computer is being worked on. If you could add me, it would be cool.
ubermunkey From: ubermunkey Date: May 14th, 2006 03:07 am (UTC) (Link)
Hey T.
When I finally make it out to la, can I meet Mickey?
I love you two together, and I'm thinking you could help me with one of my top ten list. Well probably two, but I'll go for the R rated one first. I bet she packs a hell of a wallop in a bar room brawl!

Be well T.

ps Give Steve a slobbery kiss from me.
20 comments or Leave a comment