the black cocaine

My Date with Gwen Stefani

January 4th, 2010


tears of vodka

Oh man, did I have a night last night, I’ll tell you. I went on a date with singer and sex icon Gwen Stefani. I can’t really tell you how I scored a date with Gwen Stefani, because I’m not altogether sure how it happened. I do sort of remember being at a celebrity party, one of many I went to last week, and I was at a table where the waiter kept bringing me martinis. In each martini was an olive, and on each olive was written one letter, in sharpie marker. As soon as I finished one drink, the waiter would bring me another. So I collected the olives. I got as far as “D-E-A-R-C-H-U-C-K-W-I-L-L-Y-O-U-G-O-O-N-A-D-A-T” before I was rushed to the hospital with alcohol poisoning. I got a text the next morning from Gwen Stefani’s agent, explaining that Gwen was trying to ask me out, and that I looked like a real lighweight and a fag for not being able to handle 34 martinis over 4 hours. To be honest, I fed at least half of them to Stevie Wonder’s seeing-eye dog, who apparently led poor Stevie into the ocean instead of a cab later that night.

So anyway, on to the date. While she was leaning towards an expensive dinner followed by a loud drunken fight on the curb out front, I was inclined to the theatre, and so we acquired tickets to the premiere of a new show on Broadway, called The Puppy Factory. I mostly wanted to see it because I heard a rumor that the puppies were played by robots. Gwen looked ravishing in a purple velvet dress with televisions over her boobs playing really gross dental training videos from the 80s, which I suppose was a hint that the lady’s eyes are up here.

The play was phenomenal. It was about a poor country dude who loved puppies so much that he wanted to make his own puppy shop and let everyone buy puppies at a discount. Each customer came in to buy a puppy, but the puppies were so rambunctious that the customers would eventually get dismayed, and say things like “well I NEVER” when a mischievous puppy would tie her shoelaces together with his little puppy snout and little puppy paws. So nobody bought any puppies and so the store had to shut down. But just before the store shut down, the owner realized he had gotten neurosyphilis from one of the puppies he was doing it to behind the audience’s backs. By the end of the play he was in the 3rd stage, which makes you act like a Nazi. (I consulted with a nurse practitioner for this information, people.) That is when the shop owner reveals that the entire third reich was really just an outbreak of neurosyphilis all over Germany, which started when Hitler used a time machine to go back in time and have sex with Mary Magdalene, who gave it to him and also to Jesus, who went crazy and started being a Nazi about being the son of God, and so then Hitler came back and gave it to Germany. At this point the stage lights go black, and klaxons start going off.

Gwen started to hold my arm because she was scared, and I was getting turned on by it and started thinking about how many condoms I have. But then the shop owner puts on a skintight leather bodysuit and boots and a helmet made of black kitchen blenders and blowtorches which are shooting everywhere, and two midgets come out in pig masks and set the curtains on fire. At this point everyone is screaming and running for the exits, but not Gwen and me. We know it’s just part of the show. The shop owner rips the head off one of the puppies and pulls a bright pink submachine gun out of it, and tells us all, in German, to get the fuck out, because he is going to kill the entire audience, which he starts doing immediately. The muzzle of the gun is flashing and it is exploding bullets into people and people are dying. Gwen and I run out the door, laughing, all the way down to the front door, where she stops laughing. “What is it, ” I ask. “I have to tell you something, Chuck. I was hit. By a bullet, in my heart. ” “Oh no, Gwen!” I exclaim. “I’m so sorry!” She puts her bloody finger to my lips to shush me and says, “it’s ok, Chuck. You can have sex with my dead body, I won’t mind. ” Then she dies in my arms and it is romantic, and then you can basically guess what I did next.

I took pictures of her body posing her to do the Macarena and I made an animated gif out of it.

I lost it though.

Comments are closed.

Powered by WordPress. Theme by Sash Lewis.