The Mexican and I hosted our very own little Oscar party at the weekend. I mean we’re not even gay or anything, but we condone anyone who wants a little glitz in their life. Plus we like any excuse to invite over some half wasted ladies in cocktail dresses. So we dressed up, conjured up some hors d’oevres and had a fun night of drunken gaiety and eating olives out of ladies’ cleavages.

It was kind of fun watching all the fine, fine Hollywood ladies (with the emphasis firmly on “wood”) in their sparkly gowns. I got sort of a kick out of it, to be truthful. There ain’t no shame in it. My ma always used to tell me there was a gay man inside me trying to get out, which I always found a little alarming, especially since I had a bowel problem at the time and was having trouble sitting down comfortably. There ain’t nothing wrong with being a ‘mo, you dig, I have some ‘mo friends who’re really fricking awesome dudes and not once has one of them tried to touch my fleshy pipe!

Well except that one time. And I had over-indulged in the Beefeater gin sours and in the dim light I thought he totally was a lady. It can happen to anyone. I, the Spunk, am 100 percent lady-lovin’ hetero. So I have a Liberace album or three. So what if I have a splendid mustache? I am secure in my manliness. I can embrace my feminine side.

Anyway, the Captain got a little rigid when he saw that Sarah Jessica Parker chick. This is the first time that’s happened and truthfully, I was a little concerned because that chick truly looks like a horse. Then I noticed the reason for the Captain’s excitement. That chick was only one small stumble on her high heels away from liberating the mamorial twins from their bustier. The Captain can sense these things you know.

So yeah, hope y’all had a fine weekend with lots of sexy times. Y’all stay fabulous now.

Y'all will be happy to hear I've decided to become a priest! A really sparkly, entertaining priest! A priest who really, really likes ladies with no clothes on. A priest who has zero interest in little boys. Or religion.

No, really I just abstained from schtoomping any ladies this past five days or so because I have been tired and busy as holy fuck and really, it's about time I had a vacation or something. When the Spunk's too beat to interfere with the ladies, he needs some time to chillax, dig?

When I say I didn't schtoomp any ladies the past few days I meant none of my bodily parts entered anyone else's bodily parts. I didn't say I had no lady contact at all. I mean I was too busy to do much of anything but I had me a hot phone date with a lady called Cynthia who was visiting Vegas for a few days. I met her at a show but things being the way they were, ruffling around in her underwear was out of the question. By "the way they were" I totally mean, her husband was with her and he was very large and looked like he very much enjoyed hitting things. He might have had something to say about my hands on his wife's fine, round buttocks.

It didn't stop her phoning me the next night when he'd gone to the casino, and telling me in graphic detail what she wanted to do to me with her succulent venus fly trap. I might have even blushed. Nah, I didn't blush. It was impossible - all my blood was in my cock! That reminds me, I've gotta get some Lysol to get that stain off the wall before my ma comes round tomorrow...

So yeah, busy busy busy. It will end Friday night however and then I have the weekend off to just go out and hang with the ladies (shag till my willie falls off, as the Limeys say), so all is well. I just thought I'd check in with you fine folks. I know you worry about me. You are all goddamn peaches.

I'm pretty damn busy people. Honestly, I don't remember the last time I was this busy. Usually I like to fall out of bed at noon, smoke a cigar and play with my organ for a few hours before starting my day. This past week I've been up at 9am and doing things that involve my brain. Like working new material and stuff. Yeah really! I've had bookings for new shows up the wazoo. My theory is, the worse the economy gets, the more people want some glitter. And you don't get better glitter than Tony Spunk my fine peeps, no siree.

I've been pretty quiet on the lady front too. No new ladies to tell you about. I did see that Josephine chick again a couple of times and she was no less scarily active both those days than she was in the car that first time. Girl might have a bona fide sex addiction problem I'm thinking. Heh. I have a boner fide one.

Okay I'll stop now, before it gets out of hand.

She came around my place at the weekend and effed my brains out. They're still somewhere on the bedroom floor. You know what else was on the bedroom floor (besides my leopard print g-string, all-man sexiness)? Some puke! Sadly Josephine got a little sick on my waterbed. Motion sickness is a bitch, no? At least she waited till after the proceedings ended. I mean I don't want to sound insensitive or nothin' but no one wants to kiss a chick who just blew chunks, you dig?

All in all, a good week but Jesus Harold Christ I need some rest. Hope you guys are all your groovy, fabulous selves.

On Saturday Pedro and myself graced some hole-in-the-wall dive club with our sparkly wit and presence. We were showcasing some new numbers we've been working on. By "showcasing" I mean trying them out on some elderly and possibly demented drunks who can't afford to go see someone more famous. But man, those people got a show. You ain't seen nothing till you've seen a guy with an electric blue, glittery, throbbing organ, in action. My jaw ached from grinning so hard.

Things went down pretty well. Some old dear with one of those distracting blue tooth things sticking out of her ear, kept lifting her skirt and flashing her giant, puce-colored, hose-clad ass at me from the dance floor and blowing kisses. She was 75 if she was a day. To be truthful, at first I thought she might have escaped from a seniors' home or something because she sort of had a cross-eyed, pinched expression and when she lifted her skirt I thought she was about to take a steaming dump on the floor, until I realized her face just always looked like that and she was being "sexy". Lord preserve us. Tony will hit most female specimens, folks, but even he has a line that shall not be crossed. That lady was about 50 miles over it and halfway to hell.

No hotties at all in the place which was a disappointment. Even Pedro was starting to look good to me.

Hah not really. Jesus Christ.

I did a short interview into a tape recorder for some old geezer who remembers the heady days of Sinatra and Martin and who's planning a radio show at the retirement community he lives in. He wanted old Tony here to be the face of the new young brat pack or something. Well I guess 40 is young to HIM at least. He was there for the Declaration of Independence, for fuck's sake.

No other action though. A peaceful weekend. I gave the Captain a night or two off and now he's all hyperactive and jumping around like a chick on a trampoline. Tonight might have to be interesting meaning the Captain might have to get up close and personal with some ladyparts.

Laters my fine amigos.