Fayner Posts: Hit the town Saturday night with my posse, ended up at Monica Mayhem’s party over at Aura in Studio City.
Some of my boys exercise their right to carry a firearm under the Second Amendment of the U.S. Constitution when they go out.
They knew before going in that they’d be frisked. Apparently, they got the look associated with gun-toting maniacs.
"I’ll carry the guns in!" I yelled.
"Think they’ll frisk you?" I was asked.
"Hell, no! I’ll just walk up and blow my nose in my shirt. Or tell the guy I got another man’s semen on my slacks! Listen: no one wants to touch me or even get close to me. Maybe they think I got a dirty syringe in my pocket, I don’t know. But I’m sure I don’t look like I’m carrying a gun."
"You gotta carry two guns."
"Bring it on."
So I put one gat in the front of my pants and the other in back, grabbed someone’s jacket and went ahead of the boys.
When I reached the top of the escalator, some staffer stopped me.
"I’m press," I said. "My name is on the list (it wasn’t)."
"Where’s your camera?" he asked.
"I write. Pictures are for fags."
He looked me up and down, decided I posed no threat and sent me on my way. I walked down the hall and waited for the crew to get in. When I turned around I saw that the bouncers were performing full probes (minus the rubber glove up the rectum) on all of them. Obviously they were all clean, but if the door donkey’s happened to glance over towards me they would have noticed one of the glocks slipping down my pant leg.
I guess being a harmless white dude has its advantages.
Problem now, though, is that I got the taste of steel on my hip and I got to say I dig the feeling. So I’m buying a gun tomorrow, a big one to compensate for my feeble penis.