I got so carried away with giving you guys fabulous artwork, that I veered from giving you all the gory details of the night Jenny McCarthy came over to play with me. Let’s revisit what I have told you and go from there.
First there was this prized masterpiece: How To Get Your Husband To Clean Your Toilets
Then this suspicious saga: Lessons Learned: Never Leave Your Cell Phone Unattended
Of course there was the Boner Episode: When Doves Cry And Boners Fly
And finally, the mess of words you will find below. And when I say ‘mess’ I literally mean ‘mess’ because what I am about to describe to you was the shit show that unraveled after Jenny and her entourage departed from our fine company.
Post Jenny Highlight #1: Our fabulous sponsor Venom Vodka graciously donated a prize to be randomly given away. My crazybird neighbor won and carried on like Rocky when he beat the Russian dude. Or Mr. T. I can’t remember. But I’m sure one of you creepy Rocky lovers will correct me.
To the right of this picture? Someone who shall remain anonymous, (only because I LOVE. HER.) ran into the group of 50 drunk asses cheering on the above crazy person and flashed her sweater muffins. Showed off her gorilla nipples. Exposed her twin peaks. Raped our eyes with her funbags.
If I had to harbor a guess? I’d say Jenny would have mad respect for anonymous’s display of chesticles.
Post Jenny Highlight #2: What happens when you have a shit ton of overachieving drunk bitches and the owner of The Dailey Method? This. This happens:
That would be 11 drunkards planking, 2 smart women in the back judging, and 1 insane instructor riding a planker. Which group would Jenny have participated in?
Post Jenny Highlight #3: Late night. Really drunk. The chex mix is out in full force and so is the pole dancing. Some participated in the dancing while the others squinted out of one eye attempting to watch and cheer said dancers on. Hips swayed, drunk sexy faces were made, laughter ensued and long legs flew through the air. Flew right through a table with glasses on it.
Slow motion of shatter #1, followed quickly by shatter #2, insert gasps and ‘Oh my God Noooooo’, with a final shatter #3. Silence. Followed by very serious accusations of, “GO ONLINE. GOOGLE EARTHQUAKE IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA! ….because there is no way we did it. WE are elegant ballerinas.”
I have no pictures of this last event, but I have faith that Jenny would have pole danced right along side her new friends.
And that concludes my late night story telling of all things Jenny McCarthy in the Surfer Household. I’d like to send my billionth thank you to Jenny and her *friend* (that I was accused of stalking), Jenny’s lovely sister Lynette and Lynette’s husband Joe. And of course my trillionth thanks to Venom Vodka, Hope at Home Wines, and Crust Pizzeria. You all deserve your own tropical islands.