I had expected to spend the weekend at the Oscars, but there was a slight change in plans. Sir Ian McKellen and I decided to catch the C's game Friday when they played the Lakers. We were fortunate enough to be sitting right behind Jack. Mr. McKellen was fortunate enough to notice that as Jack bent over to pick up whatever was at his feet, his underwear was showing. In actuality, it wasn't, because Jack was wearing a blazer that covered his ass, but I'll let Ian tell the story as he saw it.
So anyway, he saw the exposed drawers (or rather, pulled up the back of the coat), and gave Jack a massive wedgie, practically lifting him off the ground. I didn't know what to do, so I stood up and yelled:
"That one was for you, Tommy! Go Green!"
We were asked to leave. Ian and I still went to the Oscars, but when he saw Jack again, all bets were off.
"That's right fucker," Mr. McKellen said. "You can't handle the truth: I shoved your drawers so far up your crack that you're still picking them out."
The security there tried to separate them, but Ian grabbed my mace out of my back pocket, and sprayed wildly, even hitting me with some. As I tried to clear my eyes, I felt his hand take mine and pull me away. We didn't stop running until we'd made it to a nearby McDonald's. I ordered us some food, and we sat in a booth.
"That was beautiful," he said. "Later, we'll go egg the apartment complex where those girls from The Hills live at."
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