Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Murder on the Dance Floor

From the booth, I heard DJ Scrabble Pants call out, "Is there a doctor in the house?" Putting down my sparkling banana rum fizz I kindly asked Kimberly and Susanna to zip me up. The moon was full and the dry ice in the club that night was just right for a murder...or a connection of love. Stepping into the V'I'P lounge with my two "wristy" associates, I encountered every young doctor's worst fears: No sex in the champagne room. A phrase coined by the late great Chris Rock, which I have never found amusing. I equate this type of humor to making fun of Stevie Wonder for being blind, or Corky for being "special." It seems that a little swiss miss had been left all hot and wet by some amature bachelor party and was in a state of *:O *:O --AhAhAh. So there I was, a young M.D. only days out of Loving You Slowly Medical School, faced with this daunting reality. I put my gloves on, asked the girls for a quick lube and did by best to quell the beast.
Hours, and many boners later, my mission was accomplished and all went home safe and "Satisfied."


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