Farrah Dreams:


Some mornings I wake up, put my favorite tee-shirt and mirrored glasses on, stare out the window and ponder, what would Farrah do today?


































Then I daydream about wearing her sparkly blue spandex body stocking and going for a bike ride.


While wheeling around the streets of Bel Air I recall the time when I escort Farrah to a posh Hollywood party hosted by John Saxon and Farrah tells everyone her last name is Moan.
























John thrills guests with stories about Linda Evans, Joe Don Baker and Bruce Lee followed by an impromptu martial arts exhibition. Then he sheds his karate kimono displaying his hairy chest and pendulous genitalia to applause from onlickers. We all disrobe, jump in the pool and grope one another. Jim Neighbors spoils the fun with his old joke, the one about putting his finger in your belly button, which Michelle Lee falls for, then screams, “Gomer that’s not my belly button!” And Jim Neighbors says, “That aint my finger neither.”


Everyone groans.



























John asks Farrah if she and I would enjoy a Shiatsu massage and some fondue. We accept and are led down a hallway decorated with framed press clippings, studio portraits of himself, a collection of owls, string art and macramé.

He stops and with a serious look on his face, turns to me and says, “Did I ever tell you about the time I was up for a role opposite Karen Valentine on Love American Style?” He scratches his crotch and says, “That’s the role that got away. My manager at the time made up for it by getting me a guest spot on Banacek.”

John slides open the shoji screen doors to his Zen room with lots of pillows and tatami mats scattered around. Two geisha ladies bow and put their hands to their faces and giggle then proceed in their forbidden practice while simultaneously feeding us bits of bread dipped in Gruyère. Farrah suddenly decides that she needs a sauna because her hair is dry and crackly leaving John and I alone and I notice that he’s developed a stiffy.






















I reach out to give him a happy ending when a drunken Raymond Burr bursts through the screens ripping them to shreds with his wheelchair and ruining the moment. He then flops on a mat and imperiously claps his hands twice to which the geisha ladies snap to work on his white flesh covered in liver spots. John suggests we join Farrah in the sauna as Robert Conrad and Parnell Roberts take our places much to the delight of Raymond Burr.


While naked and in the sauna I remark on Farrah’s most vibrant pink vulva and her pubic hair that is shaved into the shape of a heart. We discuss this and Farrah says, “It becomes fuchsia when completely aroused.” John sits with one leg on the floor and the other propped on the bench exposing his huge balls that hang low and over the edge. He gives me that glance that’s much longer than a glance then closes his eyes, stretches out and folds his hands behind his head giving me full access.
























I make my move when Angie Dickenson pops her head in and says that the phone is for me. I excuse myself and add that I’ll only be a second and John gives me a little wink. When I pick up the extension I’m confronted by Linda Carter imploring me not to keep John up too late because he has an early call on the set of Wonder Woman the next day. I say, “Look Linda, I have no intention of sending John to the set tomorrow all sleepy. I intend to send him all satisfied.”

CLICK!
































I slink away to the sauna and find John has left but Robert Conrad, Robert Vaughn, Robert Urich and Robert Reed have taken his place. I contemplate a ménage Roberts then decide against it as Robert Reed can be so territorial. I have second thoughts about Robert Urich and give him the let’s get out of here nod. He starts to get up but just then Robert Reed bends over.


Making my way through the house, I find Farrah curled up Indian style in a woven hanging basket chair in the corner of the living room with Red Buttons, Tisha Sterling and Anthony Zerbe listening while circled around her. Farrah discusses her motivation in an upcoming scene where a killer chases her around a scrap yard. When Red chimes in, “Look honey, he’s about to cut your tits off, how much more motivation do you need?”


























Down the hall I’m cornered by Sandy Duncan and Sammy Davis Jr. who ask me if I would care for a Candy Man covered in Wheat Thins? Unable to pick an eye on either of them in which to concentrate I state,"No thank you and I’m quite filled up with fondue." I excuse myself and head for the bedrooms.

Just when I slide the screen doors open to find John spread eagle across the bed and I begin to make a swan dive, Angie comes at me again this time with the phone in her hand, but she practically licks her lips when Lee Marvin struts by with his dick swinging. She drops the phone and they duck into the nearby bedroom and she locks the door. The sound of tousling and judo chops follow.


























I look into the mirror and give my dick a couple of tugs then slide the doors open only to find Jim J. Bullock and Nipsy Russell tag teaming John who is now suspended and shackled to a wicker sling with Jim J. elbow deep in John’s anus. I think about it then slam the shoji shut.


























Down the hall I find Farrah discussing tennis with Dick Van Patten and Lyle Waggoner. Farrah says she’s hungry and wants to make a night of it at Jack in the Box. The four of us pile into her Cougar when Lee Majors calls on the car mobile ripping her for not having smoked salmon in the fridge. “I work a fourteen hour day only to come home to an empty house an empty fridge and no Salmon” he says followed by, “Barbara Stanwick always has salmon in her fridge.”

Farrah shouts into the phone, “I’ve got an early call tomorrow and later a screen test with Kirk Douglass for Saturn Five. She says, “Fuck you! Barbara and Lindsay Wagner... smoke their salmons for all I care.” I begin to think about John, Jim J. Bullock and Nipsy Russell and wonder if I made a mistake.


































Farrah drops me off at the Hollywood Footlights Club and I find Randolph Mantooth lurking around the doors. I say, “Ah Mr. Mantooth?” To which he replies, “You me…NOW…Let’s go…No…No…I don’t want to know your name. I try to tell him my name and he says…Shhhhh…putting his finger to my lips as we climb the stairs to my cold water walk up flat.

Just then my alarm rings signaling my return to reality.

The rest of the day I’m intrigued by Mantooth’s EMERGENGANCY and my resuscitation. Later Farrah calls from her car phone to tell me that she and Ernest Borgnine are having a dinner date involving spaghetti and meatballs.

26 comments:

  1. Randy Mantooth was my very first crush! i was but a wee fagling between 7 and 9 years old...i still remember that feeling in my pee-pee that made me say, 'there it goes AGAIN!'

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. We share in the same prepubescent crush.

      I knew I was to be Ms. Mantooth.

      Delete
  2. I heard Tony Orlando was looking EVERYWHERE for you.

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    Replies
    1. OH MY GOD!

      A mustache ride from Tony Orlando with Dawn singing Tie a Yellow Ribbon 'round my old oak tree in the background. Then Pink Lady shows up and drowns them out. Leaving me naked and awkward and itching to get the Hell out of there.

      Delete
  3. Meanwhile, Valerie Harper stayed home and made fudge, hoping maybe Kate Jackson would come over later so they could play Mystery Date...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Apparently Patti Duke was "unavailable".

      But Elaine Joyce and Audrey Landers showed up.

      Then Jaime Farr.

      Valerie didn't offer Klinger any fudge.

      Delete
  4. Constant coitus interuptus... don't ya just hate that?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. With cock blockers at every turn and corner.

      Especially if Lola Falana is around.

      Delete
  5. Sounds like my ideal party. I haven't thought of Karen Valentine or Sandy Duncan in decades!

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    Replies
    1. I think about them all the time.

      I wonder what Sandy is doing right now?

      Is Karen okay?

      Delete
  6. I dunno...I think you're lying.
    Isn't this exactly the plot of the January, 24th 1977 episode of "The Love Boat"?
    I'm pretty sure it is.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Not Love Boat.

      but

      Fantasy Island.

      The episode with Mary-Ann Mobley.

      Delete
  7. This post has more celebrities than Pierce Brothers Westwood Village Memorial Park!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You should visit my dreams.

      I may have been responsible for some of the occupants at this memorial park.

      Like this one time, I dreamed that I was wandering a black marble hall and there I met Walter Pidgeon and I fucked him until he was dead.

      Delete
  8. There was an article in yesterday's Daily Mail about Farrah Fawcett's humble Childhood home for sale. Here

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    Replies
    1. I tripped out on this article for 30 minutes. I want to buy the place and shrine it off. Fill it to the hilt with Farrah stuff. Set up a card table in the yard and sell lemon-aid and tickets for admission...

      Delete
  9. Misty, watercolor memories...

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  10. Replies
    1. It's the laughter we will remember.

      Delete
    2. Whenever we remember...
      The way we were...
      The way we were...

      Delete
  11. Replies
    1. And he's just about at the age where I like them. Handsome and older.

      Delete
  12. Oh, honey. You need to stop eating that garlicky luncheon meat before you go to bed. I bet you wake up to a room full of gas; no wonder your curtains are all limp.

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  13. It's usually when I have "Deep Fried" night that I get gassy. But I just pull the covers over my tricks head and give him a Dutch Oven.

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  14. Ignore this comment...just testing the comment thingy.

    ReplyDelete
  15. Ignore this comment too.

    ReplyDelete