Wednesday, December 31, 2008


The Lakes is a decidedly upscale community behind gates in The LV.

I once did drugs there. Or was that Canyon Gate?

There were gates. Whatever.

Well, after I stepped up and drank the Koolaid after my days as a Hillary Girl I decided to do my part and throw a debate watching party.

Which debate?

Bitch please. I'm gay.

I hosted the Biden vs Palin throwdown.

As if.

I hosted it at the home of LV legend Stephen Sorrentino and his REALLY HAWT BF, Hot Latin Guy. Don't get me wrong, Stephen is a piece of Eyetalian Salami himself, but when setting the table, never put the shrimp next to the salad.

Just saying, HLBF is hawt!


I stood outside at said gates because the promised volunteers from That One never showed up. No problem, my outfit was cute and I made everyone buy raffle tickets to help the homeless.

But. I stood at the gates and took so much shit from every fake tittied, drunken, repressed second wife The Lakes had to offer.

"Who are you? I can ask because I PAY A LOT OF MONEY TO LIVE HERE!"

Yeah and your husband is fucking someone else.

Maybe me. If you say one more word to me in that TONE.

My point?

All through the primaries and election all you ever heard was how That One and his team didn't make mistakes.


As soon as he got elected, That One started showing that even The Holiest of All Holiest is fallible.


First, there's the whole issue of inviting Anti-Semitic Homophobe "Pastor" Rick Warren to give the immolation at the inauguration.

Or some such.

And now. Just in case Hillary Clinton doesn't understand that she is to work whatever corner she is assigned on the stroll, along comes Caroline Kennedy.

You know CK.

She comes from a long line of criminals and rapists.

Did I forget murderers? Oh, well, I guess leaving Mary Jo Kopechne at the bottom of the bay while you went to meet with your people isn't EXACTLY murder.


She also committed the unforgivable sin of turning her back on The Clintons and very publicly supporting That One during the primaries.

Remember the primaries.

Won't you?

That was a period when certain hypocrites from the great state of Chowderheads decided that Superdelegates should vote the will of their people.

Until, of course, the will of the Chowderheads went in favor of Hillary Clinton.

At that point.



Remember Superdelegates?

No gay fag guys. SUPER DE LA GATES! Not SUP ER MOD ELS!






That one and his band of The Obviously Newly Insane decided that C of the Chowderhead Gangsta Murdering Rapist K's should take over the Senate seat of Hillary Rodham Clinton.


Why don't you have Benedict Arnold take over the Continental Army? Or Bill Richardson, oh wait, fuck that fat hairy "I am Mexican, it's convenient now isn't it?".

I digress.

18 million people would get Bitch slapped majorous if C to the K was chosen, nay, anointed to replace Hillary.

I put up with that Rick Warren bullshit.

I even put up with Janice Dickenson referring to herself as The First Supermodel.



Janice? Bitch please.

Original Super Coke Head. Super Skank. Super "are you my baby daddy?".



So, let me just say if Miss I forgot to vote, I never gave money to support local Democrats, I really can't be bothered to speak with the press, oh wait, I need to stab Hillary Clinton in the back is chosen to take over the hard won seat of HRC, That One better understand the Tsunami coming is aiming for him.

How many days before the immolation?

Or whatever.

Saturday, December 27, 2008


Well, we did it.

Or should I say, we're starting to do it.

This weekend I was able to get down to the very cold streets of The LV and pass out the clothes and food that had been donated by a lot of the locals.

Every single person who received help was so polite and grateful that i almost forgot what a bad situation they were in.

It's been crazy cold here in The LV and so many people were huddled up next to each other for warmth that it was just really weird to witness. But, they couldn't have been nicer and they handed anything that they couldn't use to others behind them in line.

Everyone said thank you and shook my hand.

Contrast that with the idiots who trampled a man to death at WalMart and then kept shopping.

I'm jes sayin'.

Next time you're bitching about your situation stop and think how bad it could be. You could be thanking a stranger who gave you a coupla Cup A Noddles and some T-shirts on the street where you live behind a sheet and some cardboard.

Big, no, HUGE thanks to everyone who donated!

Let's make C.A.S.E. a year round thing.

Love ya all!

Thursday, December 18, 2008


I rarely change anything that I have written but I did receive some feedback on the following post that I felt was important and valid.

The post seems to have come off as a reverse racism sort of thing, i.e. "White Gays are the Devil!".


I'm a lot of things but Reverend Faracaca I aint.

My point was really meant to lampoon the mindset of a certain socioeconomic substrata of the Gay community. I think if you are not in that particular group you get what I mean, however, it was a very valid point that it comes off a bit anti-white.

Some of my best friends are white.

Oh come on, how could I resist that one?

Muchos Sorrios if it offended.

Criminy, the things I have to do in the spirit of the Holidays.


Well, before he even became President of the United States, That One threw "the Gays" under the bus.

It seems in a hug of inclusiveness, That One has decided that the most prominent role in his inauguration is to be given to Gay hater "Pastor" Rick Warren.

Warren is on one of those WalMart preachers with the Mega Churches down by your local Cineplex. he preaches the same things that all of those megatypes do.

To whit:

"Learn from the masses, and then teach them."

"We shall support whatever the enemy opposes and oppose whatever the enemy supports."

"When the enemy advances, withdraw; when he stops, harass; when he tires, strike; when he retreats, pursue."

"Make the lie big, make it simple, keep saying it, and eventually they will believe it”

"How fortunate for leaders that men do not think.”

“All propaganda has to be popular and has to accommodate itself to the comprehension of the least intelligent of those whom it seeks to reach.”

Oh Wait.

That might have been Mao and Hitler.

Not Warren.

Same difference.

Sort of.

I think a lot of The Gays are in for rude awakening over the next four years. We might actually have a bit of buyers remorse soon.

Especially the Weho/Chelsea crowd.

You see, they most loudly and blindly saw That One as the King of All Kings, Lord of All Lords, Ruler of the new universe in which rich gay guys would sit at the feet of The One and anoint his feet with oil while reaping the benefits of Gay Marriage and a world where they and their store bought Chinese babies (Black boys are SO two years ago) would be welcomed into planned communities with names like BeaverCrest and Inspirada.

Actually Bros, homie took your money and ran straight into the arms of the very same people who helped make Prop 8 the success that is was.

You know Prop 8. ,Waterloo for the Weho Gays, don't you?

Well, That One never expressed any interest in you getting to keep your marriages legal. In fact, That One made it clear he was having none of that from day one.

Problem is that Weho/Chelsea Myopia set in.

Weho/Chelsea Myopia is a condition that doesn't allow it's victim to see past a 4 mile perimeter or in severe cases, past a Jeffrey Sanker sponsored event. In event of a non white, non hot, non conformist, groupthink type of occurrence, the Weho/Chelsea Myopia sufferer shuts down, pouts and then sets up an ad hoc display of pique.

Pique is groveling Maginot Line abandoning, Mickey Rourke is a genius, smelly underarms for, "A Day Without A Gay".

Or some such.

Let's be honest. Personally, a day without a holier than thou "I would never drive an American car, I don't do Asian, I've never been East of West Hollywood Target, he's cute for a black guy, Barney's is having a sale if you've got a black AMEX, my dealer delivers, Chad and I just joined Crunch, I've got some hot Latino coming over", Faggot, sounded sort of like a vacay to me.

But I digress.

Of course there are those apologists of the middle reaches who say That One is just reaching out to the Right Winger who didn't vote for him. You know, the big tent thing.

Guess what Bitches? This is OUR party! WE worked and walked and called for That One! WE are the ones who put down our Hillary signs and joined the cause with the hopes that OUR agenda would move forward. WE suffered through the Right Wingers attacks on us and phony "white McCain worker assaulted by Black Obama supporters BULLSHIT! Yeah US!

Fuck including the Right Wingers at OUR party. They can come visit OUR house later with some Apple Pie and apologies anytime after 20 November. In fact I myself invite them.

Not fucking now.

NOW I can't watch the inauguration with unbridled OBAMAPRIDE. No, all I'm going to be thinking about is "that Muthafucker is about to get up and be given worldwide exposure for his bank, uh, church!" I'm sure millions of TVs throughout the world will be turned off or down or have Ruby red pumps thrown at them at that point.

This was supposed to be OUR day. The day that those of us who endured the constant imbecilic emails and pleas for money and time to sit back and enjoy the fruits of our labors.

Will it be?

This was the time for the Hillary crowd to be able to sit back and think that we did make the right decision in turning our hearts and minds and support over to That One.

Did we?

Wednesday, December 17, 2008



I have two roomies.

One, Gawdzeera, is a total prick.

So am I.

So are you.


He never passes up chance to tell you how much money he makes.

I never miss a chance to tell you that I am hung like a Lipizzaner or whatever the fuck those horses are called. I'm porno star big. Choke on it from Canada huge. Thick as a can of Australian beer gigantic. Blessed by the Gods of Wang ginormous. Swangin' like a member of the Big Pinga bois club major Peenie. Omg, does it come with a carrying case schlong all mighty donkeydick.


Gawdzeera is also one of the most caring and nicest guys you would ever want to be friends with.

So am I.

So are you.


When I ended up at Summerlin Hellspital after an unfortunate incident with seven or eight or how the fuck many, I don't know, it's not important, tumblers of vodka, it was Gawdzeera who rushed to my moms house, picked me up off of the floor and rushed me to ER. This was after I had evidently been quite memorable at his friends house the night before.

He could have left me in the street (which he did) and never talked to me again (which he didn't).

My eternal gratefulness has he.

But he's a prick.

So am I.

So are you.


My other roomie, Clownika, is terribly loud and wears far too much makeup in a very vulgar fashion and never shuts the fuck up.


I swear.


I wear my clothes 1/2 size too small and talk way too much about me. If your mom is dying I tell you about what it was like to lose my dad. If you got a ticket I tell you about the time Chris (R.I.P. my bitch!) and I got arrested with Kevin and we were in our cell and I realized Chris had eaten the ounce of weed that we had just bought and was trying to choke down the last of the zipper from the ziplock baggie (ok, your ticket story is never going to be as good as that, so, deal with it).

Clownika doesn't have a bad bone in her body.

She loves her little dog. I have no idea what it's name is because I call it Furball. It looks like one of those Tribbles from Star Trek, I try to hate it , but, secretly love it.

Oh damn! Now you know.

Clownika was not offended when I told her to go back in her room for less makeup and more tits before she left for work.

Listen folks, always work with what you got. If you got big boulders, unleash them. Especially if you aren't blessed above the neck.


Clownika always thanks me when I feed her. I can't imagine cooking and not offering some to anyone around me.

Gawdzeera doesn't think twice about it. He's a prick.

So am I.

So are you.


Well, it all came to a head this week.

Oh did it ever.

Clownika is going through hard times. She originally told me that she was a "cocktail waitress" at a "gentleman's' club" down on the wrong end of the strip.

Uh huh.

Bitch please. If I know one thing, it's people. There was no way with her, um, looks, and those big ole Exxon tanker titties she was a cocktail waitress.

What am I? Straight? Stupid?

I know. Same thing. I aint either.

So anyways, it seems in the current economic climate, the girls down at the club had started performing certain services and, God bless her heart, Clownika aint that type of "cocktail waitress".

So, after giving her a few lessons on pole dancing (I am an aficionado of the Copacabana school of Pole dancing from my days back in East Hollywood. No, I wasn't a Celia Cruz impersonating stripper! I just like watching the skanks that "perform" at lunchtime work the pole. But, I digress) and teaching her that less was more when it came to makeup (a lesson she refuses to learn) I sent her back into the club to do battle!

Alas, the whores, uh, other "cocktail waitresses" won out. Clownika decided to go legit and found one of those jobs that always turns out to be a scam. I felt sorry for her.

I still do.

Gawdzeera could care less.

You see, Gawdzeera makes good money.

If middle class is what you aspire to.

Gawzeera has reached the summit. As far as he is concerned, if you don't have "your shit together" it's your fault.

Well, Clownika has had some hard times, like so many people (hellooo, me!). The stress has been building.

When the teapot is screaming at you, take it off the stove.

If stress is building up, chant, pray, finger bang yourself raw. Just don't let 'er blow!

I don't know how it happened, but, Clownika lost it. She proceeded to tell Gawzdeera about himself. In the most unflattering terms.

Truly. Unflattering. Terms.

Bitch went off.


Now, you can say what you want to whomever. However, make sure your little red wagon is packed and you and your little Furball have a place to go before you start talking shit.

Hopefully, Gawdzeera will understand that not everyone is doing as well as he is and take a bit of pity on Clownika and not kick her, and her little dog too, to the proverbial handicap accessible curb.

Why do suburbs have no sidewalks? Is it to keep black people from walking in front of your house? Or worse, stopping to admire your P.C. desert landscaping?

Ok, so, today I arranged for the people at the "Almost But Not Quite Important" Film Festival that I am a judge for to meet my liquor hookup. As I waited in the production office, some balding slab of a white guy decided to get all up in my business with the guy I was there to make the introductions to.

"What EXACTLY is she coming here for?" Baldini said to me in a "tone". "We're really only interested in cash sponsors at this point", he announced without looking up from his, I'm sure, "Teenage Asian Pussy Bangs Galore!" website on his laptop.

Let's understand something.

Right now.

You, nor your mother, nor anyone that you know, is to ever speak to DEREK LA VAUGN WASHINGTON (yeah, I'm WAY black) in a "tone".

I will make a bitch cry and call his mother for speaking to me in a "tone". If you want to find out how it feels to have your dick shrink back up into your mommies uterus as you lay in a fetal position on the floor whimpering, SPEAK TO ME IN A "TONE".

Rather than go all "Black Gurl" on him (if you ever see my head start to subtly vibrate, LEAVE THE AREA! STAT!) I simply picked up my cellie and began texting my client to abort the mission. I then informed the office that my work there was done. I headed towards the door, which may have closed sharply.

Quite. Sharply.

Out side I found my client and informed her of the events. She looked at me and said, "it's not like they are CineVegas. Let's get out of the snow". She turned around, got her designer self into her BMW and took off.


No fuss. No muss. Just done and over.

I called the office and informed them that I felt Baldini had behaved in a rather boorish fashion and while I would still worked with them, I was NEVER TO BE TALKED TO IN A "TONE" AGAIN.

No fuss. No muss. Just done and over.


What is the point of this long (You don't like it? Go read Perez Hilton, "Lindsay Lohan walked through the Standard today with her BFF SaMANtha..." Bore.) post is thus:

Always remember that everybody got their something.

Remember to be nice to others, even when you're not feeling it.

Always mind your manners.


Some people are Pricks.

So are you.

So am I.



Written and Composed by Siedah Garrett and Glen Ballard.

I'm Gonna Make A Change,
For Once In My Life
It's Gonna Feel Real Good,
Gonna Make A Difference
Gonna Make It Right . . .

As I, Turn Up The Collar On My
Favourite Winter Coat
This Wind Is Blowin' My Mind
I See The Kids In The Street,
Without Enough To Eat
Who Am I, To Be Blind?
Pretending Not To See
Their Needs
A Summer's Disregard,
A Broken Bottle Top
And A One Man's Soul
They Follow Each Other On
The Wind Ya' Know
'Cause They Got Nowhere To Go
That's Why Now I Want You To Know

I'm Starting With The Man In The Mirror
I'm Asking Him To Change His Ways
And No Message Could Have
Been Any Clearer
If You Wanna Make The World
A Better Place
(If You Wanna Make The
World A Better Place)
Take A Look At Yourself, And
Then Make A Change
(Take A Look At Yourself, And
Then Make A Change)
(Na Na Na, Na Na Na, Na Na, Na Nah)

I've Been A Victim Of A Selfish
Kind Of Love
It's Time That I Realize
That There Are Some With No
Home, Not A Nickel To Loan
Could It Be Really Me,
Pretending That They're Not Alone?

A Willow Deeply Scarred,
Somebody's Broken Heart
And A Washed-Out Dream
(Washed-Out Dream)
They Follow The Pattern Of
The Wind, Ya' See
Cause They Got No Place To Be
That's Why I'm Starting With Me
(Starting With Me!)

I'm Starting With The Man In The Mirror
I'm Asking Him To Change His Ways
And No Message Could Have
Been Any Clearer
If You Wanna Make The World
A Better Place
(If You Wanna Make The
World A Better Place)
Take A Look At Yourself And
Then Make A Change
(Take A Look At Yourself And
Then Make A Change)

I'm Starting With The Man In
The Mirror
I'm Asking Him To Change His Ways
(Change His Ways-Ooh!)
And No Message Could've
Been Any Clearer
If You Wanna Make The World
A Better Place
(If You Wanna Make The
World A Better Place)
Take A Look At Yourself And
Then Make That . . .
(Take A Look At Yourself And
Then Make That . . .)

I'm Starting With The Man In The Mirror,
(Man In The Mirror-Oh Yeah!)
I'm Asking Him To Change His Ways
(Better Change!)
No Message Could Have
Been Any Clearer
(If You Wanna Make The
World A Better Place)
(Take A Look At Yourself And
Then Make The Change)
(You Gotta Get It Right, While
You Got The Time)
('Cause When You Close Your Heart)
You Can't Close Your . . .Your Mind!
(Then You Close Your . . . Mind!)
That Man, That Man, That
Man, That Man
With That Man In The Mirror
(Man In The Mirror, Oh Yeah!)
That Man, That Man, That Man
I'm Asking Him To Change His Ways
(Better Change!)
You Know . . .That Man
No Message Could Have
Been Any Clearer
If You Wanna Make The World
A Better Place
(If You Wanna Make The
World A Better Place)
Take A Look At Yourself And
Then Make A Change
(Take A Look At Yourself And
Then Make A Change)
Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!
Na Na Na, Na Na Na, Na Na,
Na Nah
(Oh Yeah!)
Gonna Feel Real Good Now!
Yeah Yeah! Yeah Yeah!
Yeah Yeah!
Na Na Na, Na Na Na, Na Na,
Na Nah
(Ooooh . . .)
Oh No, No No . . .
I'm Gonna Make A Change
It's Gonna Feel Real Good!
Come On!
(Change . . .)
Just Lift Yourself
You Know
You've Got To Stop It.
(Yeah!-Make That Change!)
I've Got To Make That Change,
(Man In The Mirror)
You Got To
You Got To Not Let Yourself . . .
Brother . . .
(Yeah!-Make That Change!)
You Know-I've Got To Get
That Man, That Man . . .
(Man In The Mirror)
You've Got To
You've Got To Move! Come
On! Come On!
You Got To . . .
Stand Up! Stand Up!
Stand Up!
(Yeah-Make That Change)
Stand Up And Lift
Yourself, Now!
(Man In The Mirror)
Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!
(Yeah-Make That Change)
Gonna Make That Change . . .
Come On!
(Man In The Mirror)
You Know It!
You Know It!
You Know It!
You Know . . .
(Change . . .)
Make That Change.

Monday, December 15, 2008


So, last night I googled myself (Oh please, if you know me you are not hardly surprised that I would be up at 2am doing that) and my name popped up in a lot of places. Who knew?

I realized what an amazing year it has been. I started the year laying on my mom's couch begging God to kill me because my life had finally caught up with me and I had suffered a stroke and gotten "it". Thank God Angie reminded me that without her Uncle Saladhead my niece, Simone, wouldn't have anyone to explain why jewelry only came in Blue Boxes and Kenneth Cole is not a real designer (Honey, if you can get it at the Meadows mall, it aint couture). So, I let God off the hook and went on.

Somehow, I met the most amazing people, from health care workers to people I met through a mutual love of politics and our fantastic country and a bunch of gay guys who disproved the notion that all 'mo's are bitches. Oh yeah, it turned out that lesbians like me! Cool! I also met a great group of seniors who answered the call when I decided that I had to try to make it Denver to support Hillary Clinton. They never let me give up and only a few tried to kill me when I switched over to Obama after the roll call. Thank Gawd those electric scooters only do about 5mph!


Through all of this I have started to become known for helping organize and publicize all sorts of events and businesses. I have been honored to have been asked by two ladies to read and write blurbs for their books (oh, I also started a little blog , and have worked with and served on the boards of local organizations filled with the most incredible people who make everyday about getting up at 630am (well, that and the fact that I have to pee, I'm getting old) and starting another busy day.

I am (I hate people who talk like this. And Vegetarians) truly blessed!

Ok, the point.

Not everybody is so lucky to have someone care about them. I have so many people that care about me that I feel I have to share you with the people who aren't so lucky.

So, I'm asking all of you to go into your closet and find the stuff that you don't need or will never fit into again ( Be brave, even Oprah knows Calvin Klein and her aint gonna be friends for a minute). On Sunday 21 December I am going to go down to the places here in Las Vegas where people are living in tents and behind dumpsters and hand out as many items of clothes and anything else that we ( Oh yeah, I am not writing this to you so you can have warm fuzzies, you're helping) can spare and personally hand them to people.

Why? Because I'm good now. If my life doesn't continue upwards, it's my bad. I have the whole world open to me and a beautiful future ahead. I have love of family and friends. I have people from online who are my Internet buddies. My phone doesn't stop ringing with invitations, gossip, laughs, tears and chances to get involved in even more. I'm set.

It's time I got on the C.A.S.E and started CARING ABOUT SOMEONE ELSE.


Vegas gets hella cold in the winter. Even if you just have light clothes people can layer.

Think about it.


Again, think about it. If you're homeless accessories aren't exactly high on your list, but, you need to keep your pants up (would someone tell that to these young boys who think me looking at their drawers is stylish?!? I'm jes sayin').

Please, only food that's dehydrated or comes in a pop top can. Food that doesn't need to be cooked. If you're homeless, you aint got no stove, think!



If you don't have the time to go through your closet or cupboard then please think about what you would need on the streets.


You get the drift.

I hope we have too much. At that point we can go to local churches and places where people go for help. If you have any suggestions, please let me know. Only one stipulation; I will not have anything to do with any organization that discriminates or makes me people sit through a seminar, sermon or talking to about their lifestyle and choices. That stuff is up to them and THEIR god.

If you know personally of a family, or, you need help, let me know.

Ok, folks, let's get on the C.A.S.E.!

Derek Washington

Btw, if you get this and you're not in Vegas you can forward this on, put it on your Facebook/Myspace/Church Bulletin/Company newsletter in your area and start your own local version of C.A.S.E. it's my idea but it belongs to everybody!



I hate where I live.

It's in the far north of Las Vegas. FAR.

I'm talking U Fucking Taw.

To give you an idea of how far, I have to change into a white guy when I cross Martin Luther King blvd.

Culturally speaking, I have been hanging out at the local 99c store to look at the crazy Lithuanian checkout ladies afro hive. It is bizarre! It's a standard beehive, yet, it's somehow coarse and stiff like one of those animal bushes at Disneyland. It hasn't moved since she left Lithuania City or wherever the hell those people are from.


To top it off, I live about two blocks from, I swear 'fo God, a pig farm!

Yeah I know, ashes to ashes. Eventually I would return to my ancestors.


Now don't get me wrong. Bitch loves a pig.



In that delish sweet and sour sauce from Chinese delis in L.A..

Hell, I love Noelle Sugabaker from Designing Women and I was quite fond of Arnold the Pig from Greenacres. I don't really care for Rosie O'Donnell though.

Do I have to like her? I mean she's fat. I'm fat. She's loud. I am loud in a quiet, "I'm wearing Prada panties under my Levis" sort of way. She's gay. I have been known to take down a zipper in my time.

I just don't like her. No. Not at all.

I bet she stinks.

The pig farm STINKS!

I'm constantly checking my self to see if possibly I've had a "moment".

Oh please, everyone has had one of those farts that wasn't. Don't go all Jaqueline Bouvier on me.

Anyway, the worse thing about living here is that there is no weed! No 420! No trees to burn! No "guy"! No buddage!

I didn't really care until I was on Shoutcast and was jumping around the internets radio stations and found a category called DUBSTEP.

Ok, imagine you just got the best stickybud ever and your mom is gone to the Indian Casino for the weekend. After the first 6 or 7 bongloads and three packs of Twinkies (Bitch, if you're in Vegas you have to go Mermaids on Freemont St and get the Fried Twinkies! Trust!) everything gets real slow. You know that feeling when you're in a dream and no matter how fast you run you just can't get past Molasses?

That's Dubstep!

It's stickybud on the dancefloor! Music for Trustafarians. You wanna dance , but, fuck it. The beats are sent through the lounge of the coolest hotel you've never been to and end up in the stoner disco that you can't get into.

You can't.

And neither can I!

I live in fucking Dronehenge! North! El Rancho De La Puerco Muerte!

Where's my "guy"? My stickybud? My trees to burn? Will it ever be 4:20 again?


Sometimes when I'm a little down or the weather is dreary (my fave) I turn on the internets and tune in to some station that I have never listened to before and am reminded of some gems and jams that I had forgotten about.

This is one of those. Download it and have it at your beck and call when you need it.

Would you like to swing on a star
Carry moonbeams home in a jar
And be better off than you are
Or would you rather be a mule?

A mule is an animal with long funny ears
Kicks up at anything he hears
His back is brawny and his brain is weak
He's just plain stupid with a stubborn streak
And by the way, if you hate to go to school
You may grow up to be a mule

Or would you like to swing on a star
Carry moonbeams home in a jar
And be better off than you are
Or would you rather be a pig?

A pig is an animal with dirt on his face
His shoes are a terrible disgrace
He ain't got no manners when he eats his food
He's fat and lazy and extremely rude
But if you don't care a feather or a fig
You may grow up to be a pig

Or would you like to swing on a star
Carry moonbeams home in a jar
And be better off than you are
Or would you rather be a fish?

A fish won't do anything, but swim in a brook
He can't write his name or read a book
And to fool the people is his only thought
And though he's slippery, he still gets caught
But then if that sort of life is what you wish
You may grow up to be a fish

And all the monkeys aren't in the zoo
Every day you meet quite a few
So you see it's all up to you
You can be better than you are
You could be swingin' on a star

Saturday, December 13, 2008


I have a bit of a mouth on me.


I swear.

I am also one of the most harmless people on earth.

Unless I'm dating/fucking you.

Ok, I broke up with my latest BF by text.


It is the oughts and most of our communication was by text. I didn't even think about it when I broke up with him.

It seemed natural.


I swear.

I guess I probably should've have texted him first with the news. I'm such a good guy that I texted his best friend in Denver and told her first.


I figured he would need a friend to help him through his loss.

You know. Me.

Turns out that dyke got on the cellie and called him before I had a chance to text him!

I needed a Super Big Gulp Coke and didn't want to do it while I was driving.

Traffic. Sweetie. Traffic. What if I had killed a stripper at Antelope and Charleston? That would look cute on channel 8.

"This is Maria Lupe Cardinal Lopez Garcia Mendoza Jackson at the scene of a terrible tragedy. A 21 year old (it's my blog) Las Vegas man ran over a Las Vegas entertainer, Kristi Kumho (it's a Korean name. Perv.) at the corner of Antelope and Charleston in the almost but not quite Summerlin district. The suspect, Las Vegas Style Guy, Derek Washington, was apparently seen texting just prior to the death of Kumho (Tee. Hee.). A Super Big Gulp Coke can be seen here next to the blood and silicone stained crosswalk. Back to you Rikki Cheese ( I swear that's her name! Really.)".

You see. I care. Really.


So, I often smoked a lot of pot from approx. 1985 to well, now. I might not be the best at names. But. I am nice.

And harmless.

So I walk into Frankie's Tiki Room, the place I had been waiting all of my life for, ok, three days, and I start my usual routine.

1/ Go to the bathroom and look at myself.

2/ Take a picture of myself in said bathroom.

3/ Exit bathroom and pick up a drink one The Bitchez has already procured.

4/ Survey the room.

5/ Whip out my digital and begin taking pictures.

Simple, yet tres effective.

Tres is Jerry Lewis loving crunchy bread eater for "just smile bitch".

WELL. At the grand opening of Frankie's Tiki Room I saw a veritable multitude of picture subjects. It was like Bettie Page and the Blasters had a Caboodle of hip kids!


So I sees me a table of hottie ladies with their Jungle Red nail polish and lips and ask if I can Take their pic.

Who says no?

So I did.

"Let me see that!", shrieked some bitched out younger version of Joan Crawford in Mildred Pierce.

"Hold on , Lindsay Lohan", I humorously decried.

Humour was not on this cocktail cunts mind. Oh no. Not even.

So, "what's your damage Heather?" gets all turned about. "Why did you call me Lindsay Lohan!?!" she bellowed as she pouted.

"I'm sorry" I said. "I was just funnin' you".

"That shits not fucking funny! Go away asshole!" Faux Bettie screamed.

Such a pretty faux authentic haircut. Such a filthy little "I would suck smegma cock all day if the foreskin wouldn't get scared of me and close over the dickhead" mouth.

Well, after backing away from the jaws of death I sipped lovingly on the best cocktail I had had in years! Yes!Oh my Kathi Lee Gifford! It was Ambrosia! Ok, it was a Mai Tai, but, the best Mai Tai I had tasted since my days as a contract player at RKO!

Or some such.

Tasty delish!

And The Bitchez liked it too! They had never been in a Tiki Room before! Except for the newest member of The Bitchez, Throgmorton , whom we adopted on the spot.

More about Throgmorton in a later post.

And the lovely Princess Anne was there too! I had to leave early (my sinus' can not handle a whole lot of smoke. There was a whole lot of smoke.)but, evidently Her Highness had an issue with her drink that made the tabs the next day. But, nonetheless, Frankie's Tiki Room lived up to the hype (mine).

And lessons were learned.

To whit:

Breaking up with your BF by text might be considered a little tacky by some oldafarians.

Super Big Gulps and silicone don't mix.

No matter how nice you are, someone will just not see it.



1712 West Charleston
Las Vegas, NV 89102




How does one go from serving up AssJuice in the Las Vegas gayttho affectionately known as "the FruitLoop" to mixing up one mean Mai Tai in the grooviest new Tiki Bar just outside of downtown Vegas?

And why on earth is Las Vegas just now getting the world's first 24/7 Tiki Bar?

Who gives a fuck?

The point is that the King of Ass Juice is now the Big Kahuna of Las Vegas nightlife.

P Moss has been a fixture (slightly tilted, off center, yet, completely fixtured) in Las Vegas since the dark ages.

Ok, it was the nineties but if you were here then you know that fire had only just been invented.


I swear.


I remember that first time I went into the Double Down saloon. Well, remember is a relative term.

My parents, Babs and Pere had moved here to Dronehenge in the days when Desert Shores and Summerlin were just big holes in le ground.

That's French for, I was drunk like a muthafucker.

I had followed my best chance at a free couch and a convertible after a particularly interesting period in the Beverly. Hills that is.

Ok, it was West Covina. Who's telling this fable? Aesop? I thought not.

I had staggered out of one of Vegas' really bad dudes with wigs bars (Gypsy or some such). So, there I was lamenting the fact that I hadn't seen a decent guy in weeks (Don't cry for me Silverlake, the truth is I never left you) when I see one more bar at the very end of the parking lot that passed as the Las Vegas version of boystown.

As I walked in, the smell of dank , skanky fur burger mixed with the twangy sounds of one of my fave bands....

"I'm a teenage tiger and a Goo Goo Muck...."

As I fought back the taste of vomit in my nose I knew that I had found a home.

At Last.

I staggered up to the bar and thought it rather funny to order an "AssJuice".


I lost a tooth that night. Or was that bowling at the Orleans?


I digress.

I do know that I saw (or felt) the sun rise sometime after that. Hours? Weeks? Months?

I felt the sun rise again many years later as I was driving in my little Lesbianesque Daewoo StyleWagon down a stretch of Charleston blvd that you only stop at to...well, actually, it's a stretch you never stop at.


Then heavens to Murgatroyd! Eureka! Keely Smith and Merle Oberon! There it was. The sign announcing:


Well, opening dates, and expiration dates on milk for that matter, just get in my way. So, I flipped a uterus and flew into the unopened Tiki Room.


What a temple of alchoholic revelry lay before me! Yes Lord Jesus, I am home.

From the hand carved Tiki sculptures to the dim lighting and the booths covered in grass mats I knew that my 80 year old retro self had found my new clubhouse! I sauntered in only to be met by a bespectacled giant who informed me , "we're not open yet!" .

Really? I guess the construction dust and hot worker guy I had missed.


Well, before the giant threw me onto the Rebel parking lot next door I soaked in my soon to be Tiki Paradise. It turns out I was in the presence of his munificence.....


King of AssJuice!

Angels sang and clouds parted as the celestial lights shone upon his beatific face. I got his business card to ask for an interview and ran to the Style Wagon and threw up slightly in homage to my youth.

"I'm a teenage tiger and A GOO GOO MUCK!"

Herewith is the interview:



Q:How did you go from AssJuice in the FruitLoop to Mai Tais and fertility sculptures at Frankie's Tiki Room?

A:I just wanted to. This town has sorely needed a Tiki Bar and the time was right. We had a couple of different ideas but decided the the space was too small for our first choice.

(Oh yeah, you can bet when the next concept pops off The Vegas Style Guy will be there with my sippycup on!)

You know, Tiki is a big part of 50's and 60's American pop culture. I didn't want to do some modern version of one. None of that corporate bullshit! I wanted an authentic Tiki Bar so I went to the top Tiki carvers I could find. Of course they didn't trust that I was going to do it faithfully. They thought I was just going to do another Trader Vics type of thing. Fake. They changed their minds after a nice down payment check was written.

(I'm including the link to the FRANKIE'S TIKI ROOM website so that you can learn more about these amazing artists. After all, I aint got time to tell you everything, work bitches!)

Q:You haven't exactly put yourself in a place that will cause a district or scene to spring up was that intentional?

A:People thought the same thing about the Double Down and to me that was a no brainer. I mean it was 60seconds from the airport (I know I like some AssJuice on my way to the Southwest Terminal, jes sayin'-TVSG) and 5Minutes from the strip. Frankie's is the same thing, a no brainer. It's 5 minutes from downtown and in a location that doesn't offer any "get to" shit. None of the hassles of the strip are involved in going out. And when the whole Union development is done this is going to be the area to be in.

Q:What's the biggest change you've seen in Las Vegas since you first opened the Double Down?

A:I'm not a club guy so I can't even tell you. I just see the shiny ads with the Big Tit girls and I'm not interested.








Q:Are you afraid of Frankie's becoming a hipster hell like so many bars in Silverlake (L.A.)?

A:I'm not worried about it at all. This is the type of place that you see a pornstar next to a plumber. Everybody gets treated the same. The bottom line is that this is a bar. If I lose that vision I'll hear about it. If I lose that then it's over. There won't be any bullshit VIP tables or bottle service. I hate that shit.


Q:I noticed an amazing mix of people at Frankie's opening night. Were you surprised by the mix?

A:I knew exactly the kind of mix I was going to get. It's the Double Down but better dressed. And behaved. I don't care if you're broke, rich or whatever, everybody should be able to come here and enjoy themselves.

Q:Double Down is known for it's raucous live performances. Frankie's is a much smaller place. Anything special planned?

A:No. No live music or performances. Frankie's is just a place with a relaxing vibe, maybe I'll put a DJ in the bathroom occasionally. Frankie's needs to be what it is.

Q:Who the hell is Frankie and why this place instead of something new?

A:Who knows! The former owner had the place for 27yrs and had no clear story. Maybe I'll make something up. I'll create an Urban Legend! Las Vegas loses history everyday, it's important that I pay respect to the past. If I had just come in and bulldozed the place it would have just alienated the type of people that I want to attract. You know, everybody from regulars who are happy for the upgrade and new folks who are grateful to be able to pay an homage to the past.

Q:You've grown up with the scene here in The LV, is this your grown up playhouse.

A:Yeah, I opened Double Down on 02 December 1992! This is kinda for grownups. The Double Down grew more organically than this place, so, I still go there to relax. I've put so much work into Frankie's that this is more like being at work for me. You know, a new generation has discovered Double Down and a lot of the original crowd is coming here now, but, both crowds are welcome and happy here.

Q:Do you have a life outside of your bars?

A:I'm working on it, I've been working 7 days a week for a long time. I'm taking a break in January

Q:What's your all time favorite bar?

A:Double Down without a doubt. When I go out in any city nothing compares. Not even our New York City bar. When I go out I either want the fanciest place in town or the most extreme dive and nothing compares to Double Down on the dive end.


Q:If you had to be stranded on a desert island with the following what would they be:

A:Princess Anne's' Flaming Vagina



BAND: The Holograms, they're Asian All girl band from L.A., they sing about Ass Fucking! One of my alltime favorite bands!

DRINK: Vodka Tonic

BARTENDER: Backdoor Becca at the Double Down in New York.

40's MOVIES STAR: Laurence Tierney.

GARNISH: Pussy or the cream corn in the AssJuice at Double Down.

PIECE OF JEWELRY: My silver Tiki ring from The Tiki Gods. It leaves a smiling Tiki imprint on a face.

45 rpm RECORD: My Boy Lollipop by Millie Smalls.

BOOK: Anything by Jim Thompson.



When you first see P Moss you know he's either a huge nerd,The Dealer, a total asshole OR the coolest guy in the fuckin' room.

Double Down on coolest guy in the room.

Did you notice my corny wrap it up line?

Of course you did.


You swear.