January 30th, 2006
Tonight, I went out with this chick to get some Mexican at Compares in Hollywood — make a long story short…I wound up smoking a joint with Billy Gibbons from ZZ Top and a friend of his.
Billy is a musician’s musician and one of the sickest guitar players ever. A lot of people don’t know this but Hendrix, when asked who the next up-and-coming guitar player was, named Billy Gibbons as that guy just before he died.
You can’t get much bigger than that.
January 28th, 2006
The Pre-Booty Call Agreement
This pre-booty call Agreement (hereinafter referred to as “The Agreement”) is entered into on this ___day of ______________, 20 __, by ____________________, (hereinafter referred to as the “Participant”) between ____________________, (hereinafter referred to as the “Holder of ‘The Agreement’”) and ____________________ (Participant). This Agreement shall cover the following rules and principles for the Participant:
1. No sleeping over!! Unless a repeat it in the morning is involved.
2. No meeting in public.
3. No calls before 11 pm. We have nothing to talk about.
4. No “lovemaking”. That is right out.
5. No emotional discussions!! i.e. where are we heading with this? Do you love me? The answer is “no” all aformentioned items.
6. No plans made in advane - you are “the backup.” Unless you are from out-of-town, then it’s only a one-time advanced arrangement.
7. All gifts accepted- money is always good.
8. No baby talk- however, dirty talk is encouraged.
9. No asking for comparisons with former lovers… it’s really none of your damn business.
10. No calling each other friends with benifits. We are not friends, just fuck buddies.
11. Calling out the wrong name during sex is OK. Don’t be offended, you mean no less to me than you did before.
12. No leaving anything behind when you leave.
13. No falling asleep right after sex — get your ass up and go home.
14. Don’t be offended if I don’t ask if you enjoyed it. I don’t care!!
15. You cannot borrow my car.
16. If anyone of the opposite sex asks who you are, the standard response will be “My roommates girlfriend/boyfriend.”
17. Doggie style preferred. Just hit it hard and right or get the Hell out! (Reason: The less eye contact the better. I don’t want to look at you.)
18. We are to hook up absolutely whenever the mood strikes me, so stop calling!
19. Bring your own booze-I am not your liquor store.
20. No phone use, please! I don’t want anyone calling back looking for your ass. *Extra tip for successful booty calls: The holder of the Agreement may only alter the aforementioned rules. If the other party attempts to change or alter any terms of the Agreement, it will automatically become null and void. The Participant will then be removed from the “Possible Future Relationship List” and given minimal Booty Call privileges, and cut off from any communications unless first initiated by the holder of this Agreement. If further violations of the Agreement occur the Participant will be deleted from phone memory, email list, and blocked from all communications until the Participant’s silly ass understands the rules.
Participant:
Signature: ____________________
Date: ____________________
Holder of the “Agreement”:
Signature: ____________________
Date: ____________________
January 25th, 2006
So last night I was on the phone with Ruyder from
Nashville Pussy (a very good friend of mine)…she tells me that they have
#3 for pussy on Google and want to make a little money off it. So I sign them up for
OCCash and throw a
quick page together for them.
While I am on the phone, she has another call come in, so she puts me on hold. We she comes back, she has me conferenced in with some other guy…
Guess who it was?
None other that Jeff Hannemen from SLAYER – the greatest metal band of history, author of 90% of the songs on Reign in Blood, and really the better of the two guitar players in the band (sorry Keery) – the guy is a fucking METAL GOD!
We talk for a while. Jeff tells us that he has written a song for the next Slayer album that will be about 9/11, but from the terrorist’s point of view!
Holy fuck!
And some people are clueless enough to say that Slayer has been losing their edge! Fuck that!
Angel of Death – mother fuckers!
January 17th, 2006
So we wake up around 5 in the afternoon in a pool of my own blood. Apparently, during the “night” my liver had made a prison break. I only know this because I there was this note next to my bed:
Yeah, we had been bending it pretty hard, but then it dawned on me: It was Sunday, and probably the busiest driving day of the entire year back to LA. I’ve already learned my lesson about trying
drive back to LA from Vegas on a Sunday…we only had one choice:
Another night in Vegas.
Fortunately, dinner that night would be on Naughty America (Naughty Office / American Daydreams) at this sushi place in the Venation called Tsunami’s. You would think that after all of the bad press about real tsunamis were getting — they might change the name of the resturant to Calm Waters…but hey — I ain’t PC!
At dinner our BAC had already started skyrocketing from the “shock and awe” of sortie after sortie of Sake Bombs!
My homeboy Dr. Airwreck has got us on the pestlist (guestlist) for the hottest spot in Vegas on Sunday: Light at the Bellagio. What’s with all of these one word club names? Plush, Rain, Ice? I’m wondering when club owners are going to empty the dictionary and will be stuck naming the clubs things like Stink, Lettuce, or USB.
What a gay trend.
A few times during the week I had been texting this wickedly hot black stripper that I had met the last time I was in town. This girl was serious business. We are talking, not a dime, but a 9 at least. This girl was serious business. I’ve long had a weakness for the sistas. The last time I was in town I was laying down my A-Game-Stripper-Macking skills of this girl and doing a damn fine job. One of the great things about Vegas is the 24-hour strip clubs, but also one of the disadvantages is also the same thing. It gets pretty to find yourself in a Mexican Standoff with a stripper whose shift does not end until 8 or 9AM. I lost this last time, but what I’d fight another day.
For this, I implemented some 8th level-mega-mack skillz…
I remember making fun of the other guys in the titty club and calling them the AFCs, Hoy Paloy, ect…that is called in the PUA community as demonstrating value. I figured I could close this deal another day so I got her number and left her some positive reinforcement (an object that is attached to you that evokes a pleasant memory) – it was a napking that said, “AFCs, Hoy Paloy, pleabians, and had a bunch of childish drawings on it (I’m serious).
Before I went to Light I text messaged her with one word,
ME: “Plebians”.
HER: “Hey you, are you in town?”
ME: Yeah, meet me at Light, we have a table.
HER: OK, I’ll be there.
We all went to Light. It was pretty decent. The hour had gotten late so I started working this Latina chick to a decent degree of success.
Then…
HER: I’m on the dance floor.
So, I blew off the Mexican chick and hooked up with the black chick. She was definitely hot. So we wind up going back to the Venitian and I used a cocaine close to lure her back to the Orleans. I had to make sure Chris stayed over at the Orleans long enough for me to close the deal, which I managed to do by around 9AM.
Five minutes after our romance, Chris stumbled in.
Before we passed back out…
“I need to keep the room for and extra night.”
“OK, that will be 80 bucks.”
You gotta love The Orleans!
To be continued…
January 15th, 2006
I cought this on my blog:
Hey you piece of shit. You fucking drank OUR Crystal at OUR table. You didn’t pay for shit. Danny Yomtobian paid for the bill. I brought you in, you take off and come back when I leave and hang out with Irrum and drink my shit and you fucking tell people we stiffed you on the bill? I didn’t know I could meet a bigger piece of shit than Brad Shaw. Hope to see your ass at the next show.
Comment by Charlo — 1/13/2006 @ 11:33 am | Edit This
OK, Charlo…if I am wrong I will publicly admit it, however —
1. Yes, we did hang out with you at your table at Irrum’s invite.
2. We got all of our drinks from the bar. I drink beer and Jaugermiester.
3. You guys had all disappeared, when we tried to leave — we got bumrushed by security — they said the table had not been paid for and we forked up a couple K for it. I can show you the Visa statement if you wish.
That means one of two things happened:
A. We got stiffed. Not even a big deal…we have money.
B. The Wynn ripped us off and your (we) were double billed.
And if you have anything you would like to say to me at the next show, or whatever, we can take it there too.
I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.
If I’m wrong, accept my appoligies.
Till then..
Eat a dick!
Read the GFY drama here.
January 13th, 2006
OK, so I wake up the next morning trying to continue the “romance” from the night before in the sink of our bathroom.
Again, I am triumphant.
It was Saturday, and after three days of being at the AVN – it was about time that we actually saw the fucking AVN! So we brave hellacious traffic of South Las Vegas Boulevard, scramble to find parking (the Venitian parking is sold out – who saw that coming?), we stand in line with the AFCs / Hoy Paloy / Plebians to finally get onto the AVN floor:
Yeah, there is about 7 million hot sluts that have jumped pussy first into the jizz biz there (as is well documented in Q’on Blog), but is just too packed with looky loo dorks…it was basically a Star Trek convention with more silicon tits. In time, hangovers gave way to hunger. Since every other big company had a swanky dinner party that week — we at OCCash did not want to be outdone. Right there on the floor of the AVN show – we threw “The OCCash Dinner”. Our only guest was Gerard “Mr. Romance” from Spacash (Dirty Travel / The Nasty Bus).
Read the details of this glamorous affair
here.
Hopefully, we will be on a bigger budget next year and it will be a bigger event.
From there, we milled around the hotel for a while, mooched off Gerard, and finally made our way to a real swanky dinner party – The Paycom Dinner (you may see their name on your credit card a lot when you join porn sites). It was one well swanktastic / first-class dinner…
Well done guys!
After, mooched off Gerard some more and waited for the AVN awards to end so we could hit some of the after parties. That’s when I got the call from Ali at Topbucks (Couples Seduce Teens and Backseat Bangers). She had two extra tickets for the AVN Awards. That was great, I asked my business partner JC if he wanted to join me – and for some reason, he just refuses to go. It wasn’t until later. that I found out he didn’t want to be there because he was going to be nominated for directing the best tranny scene (Tranny Hunt).
Me and Mike from Paycom go meet Ali and the gang at the awards — which can only be best described as unintentionally hilarious (even though it was, ironically, hosted by Greg Fitzsimmons). The best part was when you could cut the tension with a knife in the audience as they waited with baited breath to hear who the winner of “Best Anal” was. The girl who won it, ironically, had no ass. This is how Susan Sarandon in must have felt after pulling the Oscar “Thelma & Louise” in 91. After an hour, the novelty wears off, so I figured it would be best to position myself in front of the merciless onslaught of hoy paloy out of the awards and go to the after party at VBar.
On the way out, I am walking past the fans lines up, and hear some guy yelling, “Cancel my girls gone wild membership muther fucker…” — the guy next to me whirls his fist around and I duck it be millimeters. It was Joe Francis.
Had he bitch smacked me…he’d be canceling a lot more than a subscription!
So, I make my way in the VBar. It is a who’s who of the porn business, there were AVN’s flying everywhere. Two of my friends won for best MILF (Milfseeker) and best retail (Wantedlist.com), we get our VIP table stocked with my two favorite poisons (Bud Light and Jaugermiester) and it’s off to the races. That night I am pretty stoked, because I was invited to go to a private sex party to hook up with the ultra yummy Brittany Starr (My First Porn Scene) – whose triple D tits make it in the room five minutes before her and is looking gorgeous.
After a while of throwing down at the VBar, Brittany says that it’s time to go party. Now, Britany is a weird situation: she has a husband (who is a friend and business associate of OCCash), she has a boyfriend, and she wants to trow some pussy at me.
Conundrum, no?
So we wind up at some penthouse suite with a bunch of European mutherfuckers. I can see that hooking up with Brittany may be getting a little complex due to her personal situation – her husband don’t give a fuck, but her boyfriend was cock blocking like a mofo. It didn’t matter because there was this other MILF chick there that was giving me some play, so I figured that I would roll with that. What was supposed to be a sex party started turning into a drug party, only that I wasn’t indulging because I didn’t want to find myself shoving oysters into a parking meter when it was time to knock boots. At the party, there was this strippery-looking blonde with big cans that looked strangely familiar to me for some reason, but I didn’t know why.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” she enquires.
I think for a minute…yep, this is all coming back to me. “Yeah.”, I answered, “We’ve fucked before.”
She was “Joyride” from the Crazyhorse, who I’d banged maybe 7 or 8 months earlier after talking to her for about 20 minutes.
Ahh, the romance.
This classy girl goes on to introduce her boyfriend to me, but the dude starts acting a little sketchy. For some reason the MILF watches this exchange, gets all flustered, and runs out the door crying.
Crazy bitches.
This “sex party” was headed nowhere — people, were starting to get all coked out and extra sketchy.
When in Rome, do as the Romans.
So figuring out there won’t be any bearded-blood-bombing the clam caves that night. I decide to cut my loses and start doing rock star lines of devils dandruff. Around 6AM we leave the penthouse to go to some late night titty bar / tweaker hangout. I get zooted at fuck in all of the single-locking-stall blow-friendly-private bathrooms.
Around 8:30AM, I decide to leave and go back The Venitian to meet up with Chris who was hanging out with American Perv. American Perv was going big (as always) that night…so, I decide it would be a good idea to stay a while, do more weasel dust and finally leave his room at 10:30AM to make the walk of shame Orleans. We had just 10 minutes before we were supposed to check out and drive back to LA.
There was know way I was driving anywhere in this condition. I lay down, with my heart pounding, to finally pass out — but just before I do – I pick up the phone and say to the guy at the desk:
“I need to keep the room for and extra night.”
“OK, that will be 80 bucks.”
Sweet…we’d leave when we woke up.
But…
(to be continued…)
January 11th, 2006
After waking up around 4PM feeling like refried death from my previous night’s diabolical transformation into my alter-ego:
Dr. Stretchnuts (thankfully, we have no photographic proof) – it was almost time to do it again. Tonight would be a big night. It was the
Player’s Ball and one of my all time favorite acts would be playing: Mr. George Clinton (whom I once ran into outside my apartment trying to buy crack – we’ll save that story for later).
Once again, we had an all star cast it would be me, TTBoy, Q’on, Ryan (Naughty Empire), Chris, some of the girls from Phat Booty Hoes, and Candice (whom has an onion booty that will make you cry, and I openly admit I have a crush on). Rather than regale you with stories of the glory of the players ball, let me just lay down some pictures of just how fly we looked:
After a while of being at The Player Ball we had to leave because these to dufus muther fuckers that had bought Candice a drink wouldn’t leave her alone. It was back to the glory of the Spearmint Rhino. But, we had forgotten that it would be Friday night and the usually awesome club was packed with
AFCs,
the hoy paloy, and a bunch of other miscellaneous losers – it was too packed to have fun, so we left.
I don’t remember much after that, but it lead to another OCCash sleepover at the best kept secret in Vegas: The Orleans. There were three of us crashing in one room…somehow, somewhere along the line — I had picked up some random white girl and wound up trying to have some Cancun-style-spring-break-sex-with-all-of-you-friends-in-the-room – which I did effectively before nodding out.
OK, that concludes day three. And if you think the last three days have been retarded – you ain’t seen nothing yet.
Tomorrow would be the AVN awards.
To be cunt-in-u-ed!
January 10th, 2006
Thursday – I wake up hungover around noon to meet with our accountants. I try to decide which state I live in so the government can best collect my tax dollars. They haven’t gotten enough this year, after all:
From there, it’s for a mad dash to the AVN show because I was speaking on the traffic moderated by Mike from
Smashbucks (
Pornstar Classics) that included me,
Greenguy,
Q’on,
The Best Porn, Curious Cash, and wait…you ain’t gonna believe this…the guy who was sitting right next to me was figiting in his seat for some reason, you know why? He was
the Guy Who Was Stealing Our Yahoo Traffic. I made it to the panel five minutes late with a Bloody Mary in hand and kill the audience with a deadly combination of knowledge, good looks, and patented whit.
After, I talk with my neighbor panelist about his Yahoo antics.
After that, OC Chris and I wander abound the bottom floor of the AVN show for a few minutes, figure out it looks like nothing but a glorified porn shop, get bored, leave without realizing that the main floor of the show was upstairs, we miss the whole thing — apparently it was the “industry only” day and loaded with hot puss.
Smooth move, Exlax.
That night we wind up going out to to a dinner with the guys that produce Pussy Punishers and Group Teen Casting and started getting pretty hammered.
We took off from there and wound up at the Twist Club at the Wynn Hotel with S.A.K. from Ass Munchers. We met up with Charlo from Megapornbucks in the VIP area, I took three hits of ecstacy, puked behind all of the tables, and the Charlo stiffed us on the bill and we picked up the bill whole table — nothing new to Megapornbucks - LOL.
Ironicly, after all the yacking, table stiffing, and narcotics — I almost get kicked out for wearing a hat.
Clubs can be so gay sometimes.
From there we went of the Spearmint Rhino – where I tripped my balls until I snorted half and eightball cocaine to “even things out”. My stripper game is usually grade A, but I was so wasted I could only sit drooling on myself. From there we went back the house, via a 2-limo switcheroo (scam) accompanied by one of the strippers.
At that point, I become by dreaded alter-ego: “The Vererable and Repected Dr. Stretchnuts” and pulling my nutsuck out at least four inches out of my zipper (much to the horror of everyone else in the room) with a pair of plyers. From there, I vaguely remember chasing the stripper around the house with a pool sick and my nuts hanging out while screaming, “Who wants to get raped by OCCash!!”
Thankfully, the Xanex finally kicks in and Dr. Stretchnuts passes out in the living room.
The next day…I would feel like the north end of a southbound mule.
We’ll save that for tomorrow’s blog.
January 9th, 2006
OK, rather than writing a 5000+ word blog…I’ve broken this year’s AVN into who-knows-how-many blogs…this will be the first:
I really was thinking that this years going to suck 50 pound bags of dick and call it a light lunch. The planning couldn’t have been worse – they had Internext, AVN, and Comdex all running simultaneously. You have to understand that each, by itself, is a clusterfuck…the day before I left, I could already picture the taxi lines stretching out to the Hoover Dam, flu germs amassing from near and far (The Porn Flu), and the price of a Vegas Strip hotel passing the $50 per minute mark.
This could really suck. I doubted I’d stay past Saturday…
Tuesday – As I am packing my bags the suckyness has already hit. I wasn’t even done packing my bags when I realized it that someone had been stealing our traffic over at Yahoo. (remember this for the next blog)
Wednesday – Start the compulsory bi-weekly four hour drive out to Vegas, so we can spend the night at my business partner JC’s house (pictured below), who has a dog that makes Cujo look like one of Paris Hiltons toy terriers. We headed down to the Venitian to meet my boy Meeaatch from AEBN, who took us to the 2nd classiest dinner next to the epic OCCash dinner (pictures to come) of two slices of plain pizza. Who says those North Carolina boys don’t have class?
I noticed the influx of hookers and pimps that usually doesn’t start to around 4am already in full effect be 8:30PM — with a conversion of webmasters, porn perverts, and computer geeks in town – they were about to get as busier than R Kelly at a Girl Scout meeting. They circled like vultures.
Later, I hooked up with one-of-the-only webmasters I would hang out with: Q’on from Onprobation.com. The internet is such a faceless business…we’ve talked online for years, it was good to finally meet him for the first time…hell, nobody told me this guy was black!
You do need to be careful who you meet online!
I joke, I kid.
By that point the Jaugermiester was flowing pretty fast, so I don’t remember much else from that night. I had to speak on a AVN Traffic Panel the next day. I couldn’t get into too bad shape.
But, I did anyway.
I will continue with highlights from the next day (it was a big one) when those neurons fire back up again.
Don’t hold your breath…
