When Public Nudity Goes Bad/Pseudo-Celebrities Tinkle, Too

I'm normally a fan of public nudity, be it on the Strip, at Mardi Gras, at a concert; wherever girls have access to liquor, basically. Some people, however, shouldn't be showing the goods. I, for example, keep it on, and have been recognized by the city of Las Vegas for my efforts. Mayor Oscar Goodman himself sent me an accommodation. He signed it, "Way to keep it on, fat boy. Yours, Oscar." The certificate was even dotted by tiny drops of blood that dripped from his bulbous, alcoholic nose. I shall cherish it always.

Some people, sadly, aren't as considerate. I was at a dump-shit bar several years ago called the Yucatan Liquor Stand (yeah, I know), and a woman jumped up on a podium and lifted her skirt, revealing an unfortunate lack of undies. Some things are better left a mystery, folks. I actually saw a leprechaun spring forth from her hairy catcher's mitt. He ran up to me and said, "There's a Pot o' Chlamydia at the end of that rainbow," then ran screaming into the night.
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The other day I was at my home away from home, The Green Valley Ranch casino, when nature called with a vengeance. I rushed to the bathroom, and as soon as I entered I saw a small, frail, feminine creature primping in front of the mirror. An immediate panic set in; I must have walked into the women's room by accident. I sort of freaked out, because they film the reality show American Casino at this place and all I need is for my mom to be watching The Travel Channel and see her son dragged from the ladies room by security. I quickly (well, quickly for me) turned around and was going to leave, but I saw urinals. Damn it all, I was in the right room after all.

That's when I realized who it was, the mysterious figure in the fuschia pants suit standing five feet away from me. It was Siegfried, of Siegfried and Roy fame. He hasn't done a show in over two years, but this man, looking like an anorexic Bea Arthur, still dresses like a float in a Gay Pride parade. I was actually much more frightened than when I thought he was a woman. I'm thinking Roy, who got his jugular ripped out of his throat by a rogue tiger, was the lucky one.

After that traumatic experience, urinating proved quite difficult. The sight of Siegfried's plastic face made "it" shrivel up to a stack of dimes and retreat inside me like a scared turtle. Ugh, for his next trick, he made my ability to hold down lunch disappear. For those of you unaware of who Siegfried is, I leave you with this photo.