Howdy good buddies.

Last night was the Oscars and any of you who know my usual M.O. know that uncle Tony always hosts a little Oscar night soiree at chez Spunk. To be perfectly honest, I don't give a shit about the Oscars as a whole, but I do like me a chance to ogle some fine ladies in tight, low cut gowns and it's my experience that the ladies also enjoy a few cocktails and a chance to spurt forth their views on the gowns too, therefore, party time.

Sure you might think it's a whole lot gay for a dude to be throwing Oscar parties and you'd probably be right except for one thing. You forgot the point. Throwing an Oscar party means inviting a ton of ladies to attend in cocktail dresses and getting shitfaced drunk in your pad and of course, they leave their men at home because dudes would rather watch football or wrestling or like...paint drying, than watch a bunch of Hollywood assholes yelling a bunch of names while fingering a golden dude and picturing their bank accounts.

So it's a win win situation. And even if I don't receive any fine lady action myself, I do get to admire their fine physiques in appreciation and while watching the ceremony on TV, think things like "what would happen if Hilary Swank jumped up and down a couple times in that dress?" making The Captain tremble in pleasure and meaning I have to go excuse myself while I look at a photo of Meryl Streep naked till he's shocked back into serenity. I don't know what it is about Meryl Streep man. I truly don't. Lady's an acting dynasty all of her own but she makes me think of a wicked witch. The Captain shrivels up like last week's lettuce when he hears her name. I swear to God that woman has a venus fly trap for a vagina. I ain't getting close enough to find out though.

So the party went pretty well. I got a few digits of friends of friends. One was a pretty cool and simultaneously smoking hot lady, name of Christine, who was in town from the east coast and had an ass that looked like she was smuggling a whole hot air balloon in her slacks. I couldn't take my eyes off that giant fleshy globe all night, even when Queen Latifah took the stage. I think I've told you about my QL fetish? She looks like a lady who'd like to beat your ass during sex. I'm not really into that kinda thing but I like a lady with big curves and a big, bad attitude, so somehow she yanks all my chains. Too bad she prefers oysters to sausages.

I think I'll leave it there.