GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS
I had more of those moments when girls would dance and/or rub up against me during the show. I'm 49, graying and thick around the middle, so I'm guessing a few Long Island Iced Teas must come into play here. Or is it my eyeliner and black fingernail polish?
This occurred three times on Friday. Don't ask me why, but it always seems to happen right in front of my work buddies. I can't pretend I'm not grateful for the eyewitnesses.
I was taking a walk in the crowd with my wireless microphone while singing "Bonie Maroney," when a smokin' late-20's/early '30s brunette in a push-up began dancing with me. I was in "entertainer" mode, so I fell to the floor, calypso-style. She took my cue, bless her smokin' heart, and briefly straddled me for a mock lap-dance. A work buddy was right behind her, trying his best to capture the moment on his digital camera. The shot came out too dark, or else I'd have a new screen-saver at the office. (For a year now, my screen-saver has been a shot of me playing my guitar between "Tube Top's" legs, back when Mad Jack played Lindenwold.)
Later in Friday's show, Mad Jack did a planned bit where we invited female audience members to come onstage to sing backing vocals on "Twist and Shout." We were hoping for a little pandemonium, and we got it. When the song ended and the girls -- some real lookers -- departed the stage, a couple of guys in the audience yelled: "Encore!" I said into the mike: "Believe me, fellas, we'd ALL like an encore."
Two work buddies disappeared for a while, and I didn't wonder where. They went next-door to check out the go-go bar. When they got back, I asked them: "How are the girls?" One buddy shook his head, and the other said: "Something's wrong over there." I said: "You mean Gloucester City's finest aren't fine?" He said: "The girls are hotter HERE."
P.S.: My apologies for not sanitizing the above anecdotes a bit more. But aren't blogs supposed to tell it like it is?