Roger's Gay Taxi

Confessions of a taxi driver addicted to the 'Doctor', pizza and Cubs baseball in no particular order. Not just for women who can't have orgasms

Monday, November 06, 2006

What a Month!

Well, here in the sanctity of the West Wing it's been a rough month. Usually I'm one who adores the spotlight, but all this media attention is getting a bit much. First, as I've already posted, some of the three-way congressional page instant messaging sessions I was involved with got out and made a little bit of a scandal. Sheesh, it's not like they were that bad, kind of like Junior High Health Class.

Meanwhile, that starts to die down a little bit and that this little tiff with a certain Fundamentalist Pastor I've been massaging, selling drugs to, and banging on the side takes on a life of it's own.

Still, while I'm waiting for things to die down a little, I'll offer up these words of advice if you find yourself caught in a similar pickle.

What's the first thing you tell a John who's nervous about his wife finding out about his little session in the Gay Taxi? To repeat these words:

'Oh, honey... I wouldn't have been having those meth-fueled ass-banging sessions with that gay hooker if you hadn't have let yourself go like that!'

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