So I've been writing this column for a couple of months now.
And while I've tried to let most of my friends and family know about it, occasionally I run across someone I haven't seen for a while.
"So what's new, Lane?"
"Oh, not too much. Just been busy at work. Hey listen, if you get a chance, you should check out Bullz-Eye.com. I'm writing a weekly column for them."
"Really? Have you met the girls?"
"I asked if you get to meet the Bullz-Eye girls."
Never does anyone say: "Hey, that's pretty cool, Lane." Or "So what do write about Lane?" Or "So is that the kind of writing you want to do in the future, Lane?"
Those questions never come. Only "Really? Have you met the girls?"
Well, truth be told, I haven't met the girls. Not a single one.
However, over the past two months, thanks to my Bullz-Eye column, I have had sex with a multitude of supermodels and actresses.
It's amazing. I just mention my column and badabing, badaboom, I'm in.
Understand, I'm normally not one to kiss and tell. But I just can't hold back any longer. I need to talk to somebody about this.
And I figured you guys would be a lot better to tell than my wife.
*(Please note: I've disguised everyone's last name in the interest of protecting their identities. Otherwise, the tabloids would go nuts with info like this.)
We met on a hot night in a bar in Cannes. The name of the bar was Kowalski's Southern France's Home Cookin' and Drinking Emporium. She was topless. So was I. Our eyes met. I bought her a drink. She said to me, "Hey what are you looking at?" I said, "Whaddya think?"
It was a passionate, torrid affair. Three days later as we were leaving her hotel room, I gazed into her eyes and said, "So that whole Richard Gere gerbil thing. Is it true?" In the history of bad things to say, that was one of them.
Anna K. Ournikova:
I accidentally bumped into Anna while browsing through the S's section at a used record store in a mall in New Hampshire. I was trying to replace my cracked Best of Leo Sayers CD. She was reading the back of Supertramp's "Breakfast in America." Anna was wearing incredibly tight jeans, a belly shirt and a 'do rag. I always had a thing for 'do rags. Anyway, I asked her if she wanted to get something to eat and "rap about music." She said, "I'd rather get naked." I said, "OK." So we got down and dirty in the ladies room at Roy Rogers next door. Later, I was just about ready to invite her back to my "pad" when mall security cuffed me and hauled me off for stealing that Leo Sayers CD. Sometimes, women are attracted to bad boys. This was not one of those times.
Y'know how there are some girls you just want to nail, and other girls that you can really see yourself dating? Britney was one of those girls you just wanted to nail. We never left her apartment in the Sudan. The relationship probably would've lasted longer, but it was right in the middle of allergy season and she was totally grossed out by the buckets of snot pouring out of my nose.
I met Yasmine quite by accident. I was living in Singapore at the time, and I had been spying on her with my high-powered telescope for weeks until one day she saw the reflection of the sunlight from my lens and called the cops. We talked at the police station and we really seemed to hit it off. She was everything I hoped she'd be. I was nothing she hoped I'd be. But she was coming out of a bad break-up and I managed to catch her on the rebound. I was really OK with that, though. Anyway, she dropped the charges and we dated for a while. There was a lot of sexual energy between us. In the heat of passion, I'd scream "Oh Yasmine!" And she'd scream, "You bastard, Derek! How could you leave me? I hate your guts!" I was really OK with that, though.
Ashley Juddinstein and Shania Twainberg:
I actually had to ask the two of them to leave my condo in Belize because they said I was too much for them. That's not the first time I've heard that, either.
I was introduced to Paulina through a friend of my grandmother's boyfriend. It wasn't long after we met that Paulina would show up at my office in a trench coat, and she'd then crawl under my desk. Which kind of made everyone else at the office a little uncomfortable because I had a glass top desk. That, and I'm not sure anyone knew I wore Superman underwear.
Ironically, I knew Jennifer from high school. Back then she was really, really fat and didn't have a friend in the world other than Mr. Peanut, Little Debbie and Captain Crunch. Despite her obvious downfalls, I decided to take Jennifer to the prom because I really like her as a person. And her dad paid me $300. At the end of the night I was drunk enough to make love to her breasts. Or maybe it was her stomach, I don't really remember. I guess she never forgot that night because when she showed up at our reunion in an incredibly tight dress, she came up to me and whispered in my ear, "I think you owe me something." I couldn't wait to get her in the back seat of my car once for old time's sake. We crawled in the back and she said, "I know what my dad did. Give me the $300 bucks or I'll kick your ass." I didn't. She did.
I liked Charlize a lot and the sex was great, but when she showed up at my parent's house in her Santa bikini, mom and dad looked at me and said, "So she's not Jewish?"
I was at a New Year's Eve Party in Amsterdam when, through a sea of humanity, I spotted Faith. Our eyes connected and so did our souls. At least, that's what I told her. Anyway, we spent three weeks traveling throughout Europe, making love at every stop along the way. I was amazed at how open-minded Europeans are about sex. Surprisingly, Faith's husband wasn't as open-minded as the Europeans.
Even though Tiffani-Amber and I got wild all over the state of North Dakota, I was never really attracted to her tight ass, her firm stomach, and her tight ass.
Actually, I haven't met Julia yet. But I have bedded her mother on numerous occasions.
So there you have it. No more questions about girls, OK? As you can see, I've climbed every mountain. I traveled every sea. I've been around the world and back. You now know it all.
Hopefully, from this point on, the questions I get about Bullz-Eye will be more focused on me.
"Hey Lane, where do you get your inspiration?"
"Hey Lane, what motivates you to write?"
"Hey Lane, do you get to go on the photo shoots?"