Barbie Cummings is the next Eat Some Ass update, and boy, does she do a great job licking a butt. Simply put – an amazing performer, but also a great person – but I’ll get to how I know that in a second.

An amazing performer. The girl should have her own site. Something like maybe she’s Barbie Cummings by day, but at night she turns into something – something very sexual and something that not every other girl on the internet is doing. Kinda like a Jekyll and Hyde sort of thing.

After we wrapped, Barbie decided to stick around my new studio…to small talk, and have a popsicle, and just hang out. Her agent couldn’t pick her up for a while, and I just called and told him I’d take Barbie back to Porno Valley – after she finished her popscicle.

Barbie loves to suck on popsicles.

She also loves chocolate, and to bake all things chocolately in the stove, and guess what? My new studio has a stove, and the next thing you know Barbie is showing me her favorite Toll House recipe and whipping up these amazing cookies. They were amazing cause they were tender, yet firm, and they were the biggest cookies I’ve ever tasted…they were so big and yummy, in fact, that some people might think they’re fake cookies…and to tell you the truth they tasted so good I don’t give a fuck if they’re real or fake.

Barbie loves her cookies. So do I.

We got to know each other a whole lot better that day, and it was really nice. She even stuck around after the sun went down, and we went out to dinner, and Barbie even brought her dog – the infamous Fifi Le Fluff. Fifi is a Pomeranian, and Fifi even has a stage name: Kibbles Cummings. The reason Fifi has a stage name is cause she’s going to be one of the hottest barely-legal doggie starlets – once she gets to Paris – cause dirty doggie movies are legal to make in France.

And soon the world will know about Kibbles Cummings…just you wait and see. And Barbie is going to be Kibble’s European agent.

After dinner I needed a Starbucks fix, and Barbie wanted one as well, and so did Fifi, so we stopped to enjoy yummy over-priced coffee-based drinks. And as if Barbie’s delicious cookies weren’t enough, I snacked on my favorite over-priced Starbucks treat: the low-fat banana chocolate chip coffee cake.

Yum.

Even Barbie had some…and, of course, Fifi went beserk over the tasty treat.

Back at the studio, we chatted the night away on my big, overstuffed brown sofa that’s yet to see a porn scene shot on it, so we were safe from any DNA stains that always end up on porno sofas. On that sofa Barbie told me all about her life back home, and her best friend, and how they like to go drinking, and how Barbie loves to take off her clothes once she’s had a few too many, and Barbie told me all about herself and what she likes and doesn’t like: Barbie loves racing people (and the cops) in her pink car; she loves long walks on the beach; Barbie likes her burger to be centered on her bun; she doesn’t like to hear anyone chew their food loudly; Barbie likes a strong, decisive man. We talked about Fifi’s new career, as well as training Fifi to quit making wee-wees and boom-booms on Barbie’s bed; Barbie also loves to make things grow; she’s really into her flower garden, and she works very hard to grow the very best flowers she can.

Barbie loves her flower, and so do I.

Suddenly, we realized it was very late, and I sheepishly asked her if she and Fifi would like to spend the night.

“I’ll be a gentleman,” I promised. “I won’t try to do anything to you at all. Let’s just get some sleep.”

Fifi barked very loudly, and I looked at Barbie. Barbie can translate Fifi’s yip yaps.

“Fifi said, ‘I’ll try my very best not to make wee-wee on your bed, Mister Billy!'” and we both said Awww.

So the three of us went up to my bedroom loft, and the very first thing Fifi did was make wee-wee all over my bed. Then Fifi looked at me and barked loudly again, but Barbie didn’t translate this time, cause Barbie was very, very angry. But that’s OK, cause Barbie fixed it.

I have a feeling Barbie can fix anything.

And then we all went to sleep.

I can’t sleep through the night anymore. I could up til I was about 38 years old. Once I hit 38, no sleeping through the night. Weird, huh? Did I tell you that at 40 I lost about half of my sex drive? Which is to say I beat off 50% less than I used to…which now comes to about every 3 and a half days out of the week – instead of every day of the week. And at 41 I could no longer read my morning newspaper without wearing dumb reading glasses? Soon I’ll probably have to eat blue pills to make my weiner get stiff, and it will be at that point in my life that I will hang myself from one of the rafters in my porno studio.

Anyways, I woke up at 4 am, not because I couldn’t sleep, but because someone was moaning…moaning very loudly, I might add. Loud enough to wake me up. I looked at the foot of the bed where Fifi lay in her fluffy pink bed, and nope…it wasn’t her. I looked over at Barbie, who had the covers pushed down around her knees, and her hands were in her panties, going as fast as her pink car goes when she’s running from the cops.

What would you do?

This is all real, by the way, so don’t fuck with me, sending silly e-mails about how all my stories are bullshit. Cause this one, for the most part, is very real. (I lied about Barbie translating Fifi’s yaps, and the dirty doggie movies).

Anyways, you’re laying in bed, next to a porn star, who’s rubbing one out in her sleep. Do you:

1) Jump her bones

or

B) Remember the promise you made…the one about being a gentleman and all.

I looked up at my ceiling and thought about it. I thought about it long and hard, and suddenly, it was 11 am, and I rolled over to see Barbie myspacing on the laptop next to my bed, because she’s a myspace junkie, and it was then I smiled. I smiled cause I woke up next to Barbie, and I smiled cause Fifi LeFluff came up and licked my face, and I smiled cause I realized I’m a gentleman.

I am a gentleman, goddamnit, no matter what any of you motherfuckers think or say.