Google has been my bitch for years!
High level discussions about Poppy.
“Guys, I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news…”
We loaded the limo full of beer and Jaeger to sally forth to San Francisco. I got pretty shellacked by the time we had reached Morton’s Steak House an hour and a half later and by the end of the dinner my gums were radiating a fine hue of alabaster. We had heard the legond of Mitchell Brothers (www.ofarrell.com/)…it was time to see it for ourselves….
I’m not usually impressed when people tell me I “have to” see some strip club because I will love it — these are usually tourist traps for the hoy paloy. The O’Farrell Theatre was all of that and then some. They didn’t serve booze, and it wasn’t a strip club…I do not mince words here…this place was a straight up whorehouse and a good one at that! Within 10 minutes of being in there I was getting a handjob, blowjob, and titty fucking a very high quality and enthusiastic piece of tail for a mere $220. Fucking marvelous!
We busted out of there and rolled over to the Goldclub for some more lightweight stripper / drink action, got totally blind drunk, and piled back into the limo back to silicon valley. I wanted to hit the foil and you can imagine how confused our driver was when I kept making him stop to try and find aluminum foil and baking soda.
Back at the hotel, the sorryness continued. One unnamed member of our party decided that it would be a good idea to start combing craigslist for some hookers at 4AM. By around 6AM he managed to line one up. I was so gacked out that I knew a case of Viagra and a crane wouldn’t get my dick hard so I suggested they should take the her to another room.
Apparently, around 7AM, two unnamed members of our party stood around as the sun rose through the window, softserving a floppy tittied prostitute…
“Guys, it don’t get any better than this.”
6/7/06: Neighbor of the Beast: The next day I woke up feeling like a can of smashed assholes. We were staying in San Fran the next night so we took a limo back down to the city. The next night was slightly mellower, but not really. We went out for Mexican, hit some bars, but we missed the O’Farell closed at 1AM. We closed down the Gold Club and one unnamed member purchased one of the stripper for some afterhours fun and wounmd up banging her in her car with flat tires with waiting on Triple A and then subsequently trying to figure the best way to hide hicky wound from his girlfriend.
6/8/06: Last Caress: I has the latest flight out of SFO out of anyone in the crew. I had a few bucks on me and two hours to kill. You know where I was…right back at the O’Farell. In that past I’ve dissed the quality of the dayshift at titty bars, but this didn’t hold tre with the might Mitchell Brothers. Fucking excellent again!
I say a fond farwell and start walking back to the hotel to leave when I get a phone call from Ahn at Wantedlist.
“Dude, did you just call me?”
“No.” I responded.
“I just got a call from you and all I could hear with music playing and you and some chick talking.”
Then I realized what had happened. When my pant his the floor mid-colitis, the cell phone turned on and dialed the first number on it. It’s a great thing I don’t have a girlfriend named Abby!
Ironicly, on the way back to LA in SFO I was stopped and searched Muslim-style in Secondary by the TSA. It was a wise move polishing off that cocaine!
Viva Norcal. I love it.
Metal!
666.