Let me back up and explain how we wound up in possession of a wheelchair last night.

Ed and I started the night at our new favorite happy hour, St. Felix. The Kobe burgers will change U. Then we wandered down to the Abbey while we were waiting for Here to open up. Apparently now on Wednesdays there’s a new ChiChi LaRue jumpoff that’s a five dollar open bar and goes all night long. I still don’t even know how it’s possible to offer a five dollar open bar on beer and well drinks to the thirsty gay community and their wives and make your money back, but that’s beside the point.

After already hitting up two bars, I was trying to convince Eddie to just skip the party at Here, get Yogurtland and then go the fuck home. However, as we were walking up from The Abbey we see these three guys pushing each other around in a wheelchair with their hands in the air going totally buckwild. Ed and I were like “That looks like FUN!”, so we asked them where they got the chair and they were like, “Oh honey, you can have it. We’re going in the bar now.”

Well, I don’t know about you, but I know all about the value of gifts. I am not about to walk out of WeHo without a thousand dollar (est. retail value) wheelchair that had been generously gifted to me by three fabulous men. Ed and I decided to take a moment for a photo shoot, and in the middle of said photo shoot, an extremely tall, extremely pregnant and extremely drunk woman in white fur boots approached us and was like “You like that wheelchair? That used to be my wheelchair, but I left it in the street. Which one of you is going to buy me a drink?” And Ed and I were like “Ummmm, we’re broke! Sorry! Thanks for the wheelchair!” and we rolled off to his car to try and disassemble our new kinda-portable fun.

Did you know that none of the tools that come with a BMW sports car are capable of taking apart a free wheelchair? I did not know that. Ed did not know that. The valet did not know that. There was no way the chair was fitting in the car as-is, so we slid the chair behind Ed’s car and walked to Fiesta for karaoke while I started dialing everyone in my phone who has a bigger car than Ed and might understand the value of a free wheelchair. Unfortunately, I got distracted and gave up before I found someone. I thought for sure that James or Chuck would be in to the chair, but neither of them answered my calls. Probably because I’ve started to make them fear me and the phone calls I make after 9 PM over time. Wednesday has always been the worst night of the week to pick up your phone when Molly McAleer is calling. Hump day, ya know? It brings out my WILD SIDE.

So Ed and I went to karaoke, made fools of ourselves, and then decided that we’d take the chair to Ed’s friend Traivor’s house, who lives like two blocks outside of that huge strip of bars in WeHo and about eight blocks from where the chair was. I pushed Ed for two blocks and then I started sweating and swearing and my arms hurt a bunch and I wanted a cigarette real bad, so then Ed pushed me the rest of the way. Our wheelchair is still safe at Travior’s house and we’re pretty excited. I’m thinking that I’m going to use it for a month or two and then I’ll donate it to a hospital or a homeless shelter because it IS a pretty hot whip.

If you think that us playing with a wheelchair is “mean to handicapped people” or “rude” or “disrespectful”, you can stop reading my blog as of today because YOU, SIR just don’t know how to have fun.