Let Me Off at the Top!: My Classy Life and Other Musings Read Online Free PDF

over at
Action-Man Magazine
and Brunswick Bowling Balls fly the winners first-class to Hawaii for an all-expenses-paid weekend of fun and sun at Eros Hotel and Spa. Beautiful mixed-race nude women parade around with colorful drinks, sashaying between ice sculptures of scenes from the
Kama Sutra
and live exotic animals on chains. It’s a first-class operation all around. Although I’m not the biggest celebrity at the gathering (Buddy Hackett and Agnes Moorehead are both in attendance!), I feel pretty at home surrounded by all this class and style. I plant myself at the Outrigger Bar and enjoy a whole menu full of ice-cream drinks while feasting on shrimp and hot dogs. I will admit straight up I’m doing my very best to put out some Burgundy sex signals. From the hotel gift shop I’ve purchased a bold new swimsuit and robe that are most definitely working. I am getting more than my share of looks! (That swimsuit was hands-down my favorite for years until my associate Brian Fantana told me it was a pair of women’s underwear. Carpe diem!) Sure enough I lock eyes with a sultry temptress with a name tag that reads “Kimberly Gropff, Brunswick Bowling.”(For her protection—she is a married woman with children from Sterling, Illinois—I will call her “Tanya Lambkin.” We later had relations in many different positions and styles, but that’s not where this story is going, although it’s hard not to think about it.) As “Tanya Lambkin” is making her way over to me at the bar and Sir Roderick Hainsworth is peeking out of my swimsuit (women’s underwear), a sudden burst of crashing plates and general commotion explodes out by the pool. From where I’m perched I can barely make it out but someone is sing-yelling my name: “Roooooon Buuuuuuurgundy! Yooooou are an imposterrrrr!” I think I’ve made it very clear I abhor violence of any kind but when it comes looking for me I sleuth out my chances and decide if I need to run away or stand my ground. “Roooooon Buuuuuurgundy! I knoooooow you’re at this hoooooooteeeeel!” Almost more singing than yelling really. I stand, still uncertain if I’m going to take off or get ready for some boisterous action, but I’ve run out of time. Moving at me like a charging rhino is Hollywood legend and world-class singer Jim Nabors. I quickly sidestep his attack and give him a karate chop to the back of his head. Unfazed, he turns on me and swipes a bear-paw-sized fist at my head, which I fend off with my left (Jack Johnson, as you may recall). No time to lose! I bring Tom O’Leary from down below and come up strong on Nabors’s chin. The big man hardly rocks back at all! Too much man there. I lay into him with some rabbit punches to his bread basket—nothing. Something like Thor’s mighty hammer comes down on my head and I start to wobble. Jim Nabors, television’s Gomer Pyle, is about to take me down. Time to get tricky. Like a boxer just trying to makeit through a round, I dive at the big fella and grab on for dear life. I need to catch my breath—we dance like this for a few minutes. It starts to dawn on me that Nabors is enjoying the close contact with another man. He relaxes for a second and pow! Tom O’Leary right to the nut sack. Down goes Gomer in a Pyle! (Just too hard to resist. It’s a chuckle for sure.) Once he’s down I get into his mug. “Hey, what’s the big idea?” He gives me a confused look for a second and then sheepishly admits, “Ahhh, someone said your hair was better’n mine and I got sore.” Then he smiles and starts laughing. It’s an infectious laughter so I start giggling too. Pretty soon we both are chuckling up a storm. We became friends. “Tanya Lambkin” invited the two of us up to her room along with Hawaiian lounge singer Don Ho. A lot of beef got passed around that night, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I thought I’d share that story about my hair.

OUR LADY QUEEN OF CHEWBACCA
    If the town of Haggleworth, with its burning