Am I the only one with a sexy spiel problem, especially around my daughter?
I’ll say, “Doesn’t daddy look sexy in his new cashmere sweater from Banana
Republic?” Daughter says, “Isn’t cashmere expensive daddy? And I say, “Yeah,
but I charged it on my Banana Republic Card, and its only part cashmere and it was
on sale and the grey sweater makes feel me sexy in my navy Lacoste sneakers. Daughter
says, “Daddy, just come out of the closet as a Stay At Home She Male Comedian and bang yourself dry already. Become an opener for Mario Cantone. Little
Metrosexual Mario shouldn’t cause much of a dent while coming after you from
behind. You look at yourself more in the mirror than Cleopatra before your
nightly spearing from Julius Caesar. Andy Dick puffs out his chest in your presence.
You make Jim Norton come off as an alpha dog skinhead in Romper Stomper. At least, you bought the sweater to feel extra sexy only, not just to fish a compliment from your 11-year-old daughter. Positive, that will quell mama’s nagging concerns over you being gayer than your jokes about you being against Drag Queen Reading Hour, because fluorescent library lights don’t look flattering on anybody, especially on a poor man’s Marilyn Manson impersonator. Although, I’m sure you’d sit erect, and focus with rising interest while Vampy Marilyn read you Bi-Curious George on your lap with the lights down low in her studio apartment in Hell Hole’s Kitchen, that tells the coming-of-age tale about a sexually frustrated Hipster spawn from Park Slope reared on Lou Reed records. Stay At Home She Male Slayer Comedian slays on, in a natural born, arousingly assholish way, Challah. Thank you very much.