Foreword by Stan Lerner: WARNING! this blog is a sexual escapade. If you are offended by promiscuity do not read any further. And for my readers who demanded some Downtown Oliver Brown salacious behavior you owe me because this really tired me out.
Roxy wanted to go to dinner—and I was confident that I could squeeze it in, drop her back off, she lives way the hell out there, and still meet Jessie “James Super VIP Host” Gibson at Prive by 10:30. And that’s how good a time I had the night before—I was going back to the same club two nights in a row—unheard of in Sin City. Oh, and then I planned on going to Toa and Noir…I call this a Las Vegas Grand Slam…I know Alec Silverman is out there somewhere waiting to correct me factually given I’ve only named three places, but a Las Vegas Grand Slam has nothing to do with places, so not going to happen old sport.
What I hadn’t planned on was a sexual encounter with a zombie. See, I decided to take Roxy to Freemont Street and enjoy some fish tacos outside at Mickie Finnz…Out of the gutter boys I really wanted fish tacos. Anyway, it turns out unbeknownst to either Roxy or myself that there was a dance of the dead going on upstairs—and a good dance of the dead is always preceded by a march of the dead, in this particular instance down Freemont Street. So there I was in the bathroom minding my own business taking care of business…
“Excuse me this is the men’s bathroom,” I said to the extremely attractive, mutilated, Catholic schoolgirl. Continue reading