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  • Yet Another Trip To Vegas

    With some random thoughts thrown in for good measure. Simply how I roll.

    And yes, I make smart girls go stupid. Seems fair.


    So I saw the new Planet of the Apes remake, and I have to say it's just not as much fun to watch such flicks without a date whom one can poke at random times, point at a monkey and say ''there's your boyfriend''. And I was totally down with the concept of the film, but where I draw the line in the sand is at the thought of James Franco as a scientist. Simply can't buy that.


    Watched Just Go With It yesterday. Made me wish that MY fake marriage had come with a ring. I may have to purchase one now. And...Brooklyn Decker as a teacher? Not really featuring it, however, there's a Stay In School ad waiting to happen; if you want the kids to get an education, get hotter teachers. Surely I'm not the first to think of this, as that would be wrong on so many levels.


    How did Tim Tebow land a book deal? Ain't he the guy that holds Kyle Orton's helmet while Mr. Orton's banging a cheerleader at halftime. Hell, I could do that. Okay, maybe not.


    Cellphone hacking is the new black.


    When did hookers start kissing? I thought that was verboten, being too personal. Maybe it's just me. More on that later.


    I'm beginning to believe in the Law of Attraction. I recently begged Morrissey to come to Las Vegas and lo and behold, he is. On a night when I'm there and not at another show and everything. Now the universe just needs to provide me with cash moneys and shapely young adorables, and we'll be square.


    Much love to the older woman whose walk of shame I interrupted the other morning at the Palms. As I was leaving my room in the morning, the door across the hall opens and I see some old dude wearing only a towel, with a big chest tattoo. Then this woman exits the room, I assume his wife or whatever going for coffee or the like. So we're riding the elevator down together and she out of nowhere tells me how she'd just come from a morning ''executive meeting'' and the guy it was with was a smoker. Um, I'm guessing he wasn't the only one, honey. Smoke that rope.


    Does a handjob count as sex? Just so I have a more accurate count of my number.


    Can Detroit be the new, rap version of Seattle in the 90's, or did that window shut once 8 Mile went to video? I was accosted on the walkway between Planet Hollywood and the Cosmopolitan by a strong black brother from Detroit named Icebird, young entrepreneuring his CD's. I'm not a huge rap fan, but his stuff's pretty solid. Keep an eye out for him. I especially enjoyed his 6 Mile reference.


    I'm looking forward to Moneyball and Harold and Kumar's 3D Christmas. Maybe they'll prove that all the ideas aren't really used up. Maybe not.


    A hearty much obliged to the security folk at McCarren who told me I look nothing like my passport picture. That's always nice to hear.


    After getting a phone number, I've discovered that area code 310 is in Burbank. And here I thought my escort tour guide was from Vegas. Sigh. On the plus side, I did manage to negotiate her price down significantly. Probably due to all that time we spent playing 4 card Keno and the slots of a Saturday night. Sure her ass was too big and her tits too small, but hot DAMN could this woman suck a cock. So well that not even my pregame taking of Cymbalta (totally the new Viagra) could withstand her ministrations anywhere near long enough. A bargain at twice the price.

    Let's just say...Best. Date. Ever. A fun girl to hang out with, even if she wouldn't tell me what her name was before she changed it or point out which other girls were in the union. And yes, hookers giggle when you ask them about the union. Or tell them ''you'll do.'' But they get pissy when you pull their hair at the slot machines. I'd have sworn that it was just forbidden to mess up their makeup. Live and Learn.

    But she got me back. When I asked if she had condoms, with a straight face, she said For What? Yeah, she was cool. I'll be back, as long as she remains price flexible and makes her way from LA to Vegas when I'm there.

    What? The Iggy and the Stooges show was cancelled that night, I'd already dropped about $500, which I won back while we were gaming together, and then lost again. She knew that I knew she was a hooker, and we just hung out. But then, I really needed my dick sucked. Still do, come to think of it.


    Usually I can't tell the players without a scorecard, but I saw a totally jerkworthy young adorable with a group of dorks in shorts and backwards baseball caps, and thought to myself: 'self, that there is what we refer to as a fun date.'' Personal growth is awesome.


    Emmys for reality shows? Isn't that one of the signs of the Apocalypse? There'd best be zombies, dammit.


    I'm really hoping that in the future, Tiffany can help me pick up other, free-type womenfolks for threesomes. Why yes, kiddies, it's time to plan for the future.


    Off to finish watching the complete series of Daria. Namaste.

  • Book Review - This Ain't Oprah's Book Club, Sorry

    So I read The Heroin Diaries by Nikki Sixx pretty much in one sitting last night. Couldn't put the fucking thing down. I'd already loved The Dirt and Tommyland, was okay with Tattoos and Tequila, and had been taken with the photographs in This Is Gonna Hurt; so it was only a matter of time. What can I say? I grew up with Motley Crue, best concert I ever saw was in Edmonton on the Dr. Feelgood tour, with Tesla supporting. Tesla's a highly underrated band, but that's another diatribe. The Motleys kept right on playing (Don't Go Away Mad, Just Go Away) even as the house lights came on. You know a show was solid when you still remember it 20 years later. I do wish I'd bought a shirt and that I knew the very last song that played over the PA before the Motleys took the stage. Never heard it before, haven't heard it since. It haunts me.


    Anyway, some thoughts which may or may not require reading the book, although if you haven't, you should:

    - I saw Nikki Sixx on, I think it was the Nancy Grace Show, one night when I was coming down in Vegas and he really seems to have his life in order now, which means more music and, hopefully, more books. And he still seems like someone worth hanging out with, talking music or art or film. And, of course, for the social proof.

    - He still counts under the all of my heroes are dead principle.

    - Has Mick Mars written a book yet? I'd be interested in learning his perspective.

    - I had no idea Vanity, excuse me, Evangelist Denise Matthews, was such a skank. There goes my childlike innocence. Sigh.

    - Vince Neil really hasn't aged very well, has he? And how can his shows in Vegas be so reasonably priced and his concert here in Calgary be so expensive? Like his tattoo shop in the Rio, though. Some nice memorabilia. And You're Invited But Your Friend Can't Come is an awesome tune.

    - 43 is no longer a simple gangbang, it's a full on train.

    - I know this is supposed to be a cautionary tale, and I respect that, but I still thought to myself, Heroin, hmmm, Why Not?

    - Apparently when one is on Heroin, sex is better because one can't come. However, I'm pretty sure one also loses one's sexual appetite, because one is really only interested in the drugs.

    - The story of Slash's tour laminate photo made me giggle like a schoolgirl, and it takes a lot. I don't know if y'all could tell or not, but I'm kinda jaded.

    - Donna D'Errico was kinda fine. Whatever happened to her, anyway?

    - I really wish I could still write (yeah, I know, it's hard to believe, but I once had a voice; a muse, even), the book was inspiring. And it takes a certain courage to bare one's soul like that for the world to see. Especially in these times where image is all.

    - Under the heading of I knew I had a problem when: after being brought back to life and waking up full of tubes in the hospital, what's the first thing Nikki did when he got home? That's right, kiddies, he shot up. A little extra detail I wasn't aware of. Well, that and the fact I'd only thought he'd died once. I'm sorry, but somebody who's come back from the dead not once but twice is somebody whose stories and opinions I'm going to respect. Even if I don't always share those opinions.

    - I had no idea Money for Nothing by Dire Straits is about the Crue.

    - Every time a dancer strips to Girls Girls Girls, an angel gets her wings. I think Wild Side is my favorite Crue song, though. Haven't really heard much of their newer music, although I'm definitely going to start listening to Sixx A.M.

    - If y'all have some extra cash moneys around to donate to a worthy charity, you could do a lot worse than Nikki's Running Wild in the Night through Covenant House. Helping runaway kids is always worthwhile. And, down off the soapbox I go.

    - I've been going with dames is grief, but Sixx's chicks = trouble motto may be worth trying on for size.

    - The story of calling the head of his record company from on stage was a genius ploy. And it reminded me of when I had a fuckable female boss once (who was sadly crazy, and it ended badly, but whatever and ever, amen) and when she'd call me at work to see how things were going, I'd ask what she was wearing.


    Long story somewhat less so, as I'm watching the final episode of Quantum Leap whilst typing this, The Heroin Diaries is a book that makes you think. And laugh. And sometimes feel a little sad. And that almost anyone will be able to find a part or 2 to which they can relate.

    Which is really what a book is supposed to do, ain't it? Read it, bitches.