I've Got a Hand For You

A coupla years ago, me and my friend Shelley were flying to the left coast. Prior to the flight, Shel got an early morning hihowyadoin' from a burly female security guard.

"She tried to put her finger up my butt," Shelley insisted throughout the eight hour flight to LAX and over the course of the next seven days. "Her finger! Up my butt!"

Shelley would be happy to learn that airport security guards will now be forced to get their cheap feels the way the rest of us do: On the subway. Or a crowded bar. Or a concert. Or Wal-Mart. Or... aw, I should just leave it at that.