Monday, November 2, 2009


Last night, I was slumming around with Bits on our strip. This Jag pulls up, and we're both shakin' our hips and pushing our tits together, you know, being cute. And out of NOWHERE, storms Bella: A terrifying dark dyke that's six feet tall and wears an Eva Gabor wig. She's got her arms out to push us aside and starts screaming that this is her territory--and AMBUSHES the Jag, pressing her big scary tits up to the passenger window! SHAMELESS!


In a now-regrettable act of revenge, I pulled the wad of gum out of my mouth and threw it at her, pelting her hard in the back of the wig. As she reached around to feel what nailed her, she smooshed the gum deeper. And we laughed...Oh, shit, here she comes! YIKES!

We run, me trying to grab my heels off mid-sprint, and this tranny-looking bitch musta been a track star or some shit, cos she's Hot on our Heels! As we're running, I'm trying to think fast of someplace we can duck into that will be open at nine o'clock at night. Crashing hard into pimps and tourists, I look over my shoulder to see the long, burgundy Lee Press-On Nails of Doom coming straight for my eyeballs..

Up ahead, there's a crowd on the sidewalk that's wrapping around into a parking lot. I can't run anymore, and Bits is ahead of me, but falling behind. I reached out and grabbed her chicken arm and veered her to the right, so that we meshed with the crowd of young pricks and their Valley girlfriends. Jesus! Night of the Living HookerBullies!

A doorguy for the club we're apparently in line for now has seized a frantic Bella and pushed her away from the crowd, and threatens to call the cops. At this she screams "Motherfuckin' white-trash Hon-kaaay!", and we laugh through our panting gulps for smog, still completely bewildered.

Safe, we decide to stay where we are and let Bella go get high and cool off. We realize we're about to go in to Florentine Gardens. We spit-shine each other's faces and fluff each other's hair.. Me and Bits are dressed like hookers, but we look just like everyone else--and in my case, way hotter, shit!

The doorguy was a hero twice tonight, cos he waved us right in. This place is crawling with Johns! Look at these guys! It's quite possible that between me and Bitsy, we've already blown 89% of the entire club.

The first thing Bitsy and I wanna do is have a relaxing cocktail. We sauntered to the bar to see if we could meet any fine men to buy us drinks. Finally, some sleazy business man with his paisley tie draped around his neck like an ugly noodle hits up Bits. There ya go. I get bored and start picking olives outta the little box on the bar. I like to suck out the pimentos and stick the rest of the olive on my finger. It's just something I do.


So I've got a good little hand-puppet going, when a man slides up beside me and says, "You gonna eat that?"..Then he takes my hand and drunkenly shoves the olives on my fingers into his mouth..! I'm too stunned to react to the fact that this man is Rob Lowe.

He's with another blonde woman and they both laugh. He spits my olives into a cocktail napkin and puts his arms around our waists, walking us toward the lit-up staircase at the end of the bar. Holy. Shit.



Sunday, August 9, 2009

Evil Hearted You

Gave my first golden shower last night in the parking lot of a Dunkin' Donuts. The guy told me "The more you pee, the more I pay", so beforehand, I went into the donut shop and told the old lady at the counter, "Give me something that will give me a strong, steady stream of piss, please". I thought she was going to load me up with hot coffee, but instead, she advised I drink the water from the gas station across the street. I walked with $200 and splash stains on my satin pumps.

I feel like shit, just ate an entire bag of jet-puffed marshmallows while talkin' on the phone with my crazy landlady. She finally did my past-life reading and told me I was a clean-slate: a brand new soul. But then she still wanted to charge me $25! I says to her, you can't do that! Charge me for not telling me anything--and she's freaking out because she says that she DID inform me of my soul's "virgin voyage" and all this wacky hippie mumby jumby bullshit.

Oh! I forgot to mention! Me and Charlie were sipping chocolate malts outside at Mel's on Sunset, and Charlie starts flicking me on the arm. "Adam West, 11 o'clock!". He's in this old-fashioned convertible, and pulls up right beside us--THEN! He lowers his shades down onto his nose and says to us in a low voice, "You girls wanna go for a ride?"


And we literally flip our shit, but play it cool. "Sure, yeah." And I hop into the backseat, and Charlie takes the front, and we're about to drive off when he says (I swear to GOD this is TRUE!):

"How'd you like to suck on Batman's big hairy balls?"

And before I can even blink, Charlie has poured her ENTIRE CHOCOLATE MALT ON HIS CROTCH and leather seat!!! He made this hilarious sound that made me think of the old people in the "Lifecall" commercials, and slammed on his brakes. We instinctively jump out and run, and duck into the alley next to Pax's.

I laughed so hard I golden showered. Whatta perfect waste of piss!

Saturday, February 21, 2009

The Rules of Infection

I've been passed out all day. Fell asleep nekkid in the hammock after getting out of the shower, so I've been stumbling around with bright red "hammock" lines burned into my face and boobs.

Got stuck on a tour bus for four days with nothing to wear but The Catsuit. Now I've got a nasty rash and the Yeast Infection of Life. Made $500, but I had to fuck Ronnie Milsap.  Shit's nasty, but he fed me champagne and Funyuns, Food of the Gods.

I've been thinking about disappearing. Falling completely off the boulevard~maybe go visit Tanya in San Francisco. Or maybe just go away by myself somewhere and just become a completely different person..

Smoked a joint and made microwaved s'mores. Remembered to check the mail, and found a poinsettia plant on my doorstep. It was from Diane. 

The card read, "I'm sorry about your mom."

Put the plant on the windowsill~ and watered it with my tears.. Just kidding!

Ate pimento cheese outta the container and watched '90210'. I can't believe that shit is so popular.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

The Nerve

Woke up at nine (9!) A.M. to the sound of a million different car horns blaring. Out the window, I saw the 'Bill Weiner's' used car lot next door had a hotdog cart and a big banner that read, "Honk If You Love Our Weiners".

Now let me just say...

I've been totally on edge for the past few days. My period's got me all in a tizz, and I can only give blow and handjobs for the next week. I guess my pussy earned herself a vacation, but $40 a night don't cut it. God! I'm, like, totally stressing out. Plus! My faggot downstairs neighbor keeps blasting the soundtrack for 'Phantom of the Opera' while I'm trying to watch Richard Bey on my old new pawn shop tube.

Anyway. Ate four cold brown sugar poptarts with coffee and I can't get a moment of silence with these goddamned blaring car horns.

Then I got this fucking wild idea: To get all dolled up and pretend I was interested in buying a used car, and somehow sabotaging their entire dipshitted operation. I wasn't sure how, but I figgered it would come to me in a moment of caffeinated bliss.

Turned on KROQ and ran around the apartment lookin' for my shoulder pads. Tripped over the blowdryer cord and landed in a pile of shoes, but while I was down there found a $20 bill and a bag of Doritos. Hooray! That meant I was on the path of righteousness.

Tweezed my brows and put my hair in a French roll. Threw on my mega-spiff black dress and my snakeskin heels. I looked like Ivana fucking Trump with a hangover! Grabbed my purse and the $20 (in case I felt like a hotdog) and ran right over to the car lot.

It was a really beautiful day out, but that didn't change the fact I was still all riled up about not getting to sleep in. Wandered around the lot for a second and then was immediately swarmed by two dudes in chintzy blazers. I played it cool and told them I was only looking, but they kept asking stupid questions and staring at my tits and ass. The younger one in the green jacket was smacking gum and telling me he'd love to have me test-drive something. So I looked around and saw this totally bitchin' little red Miata convertible.

We both hop in, and I am like, rolling the shit out of my eyes at him at this point--this guy is such a goon! He's wearing the sunglasses that have the flip-up lenses and using these hysterical pick-ups. Anyway, I haven't got the heart to tell him I've never driven a car in my life. But, I'm totally confident, and try to stay focused on my two-bit revenge.

I know which one's the gas, and so the other one must be the brake. The 'R' stands for "back-up", and the 'D' stands for "go". No fucking sweat, right?


We go lurching forward, and this fast-talkin' creep face-plants into the dashboard, and screams "MY TOOTH!". I'm too excited, though, and put the car in 'R', and we flew backwards in a shit-frenzy, crashing hard into the edge of the cursed weiner cart--I scream, and keep driving, backwards, tipping the hotdog stand completely over! My heel got stuck or something, and I couldn't put the brake on. We're flying around in a circle, and I'm almost completely turned around, watching behind me, as the other blazer dude keeps screaming, "Shit! Fuck! Stop! Stop!" and the man next to me is gripping the side of the car, powerless under my poptart-fueled reigns.

I slammed on the brakes finally, nearly demolishing an El Camino. Everything happened so fast-it's hard to say if I did any real damage. But the dude next to me was priceless-His bubblegum was stuck to the dashboard, and when he pulled his hand away from his mouth, he was holding one of the caps from his front teeth. Success! But his look told me to panic, so I just jumped outta the car and ran back toward my place, nearly slipping on one of the several weenies now sprawled over the parking lot, like fat, obscene confetti.

I guess the hotdog vendor got spooked, cos he left and hasn't come back...

I don't think they could identify me, though, even if they did call the cops. I was goin' so fast I was blurry.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Everything But the Catsuit...


What the fuck is my neighborhood coming to? Is it the new S+M club that just opened that's bringing in the riff-raff? Sigh..

OK~I came home just as it got dark Thursday evening--had a decent day, hustled $100 straight away from some desperate kink in a fedora. After we fucked in his Impala, he tried to tell me he was in 'Desperately Seeking Susan'. LIAR! Anyway, ran into Bitsy at the Food Court and shared a corndog. I was wearing my white corset with lace gloves and got totally smothered in mustard. She was dabbing me off with some 7-UP when this wacky blowhard in plaid pulls up beside us in a BMW and asks if we'll tag-team. So we talked him into $100 apiece to replay the whole "mustard dabbing" debacle in the nude while he jerked-off and waggled his unibrow. It's not even six o'clock yet, and besides my stains, I'm on a roll.

Shared a cab with Bits, and I get out at the record store I've been wanting to check out. I decide right there that my mustard stains are actually kinda bitchin', so I work that shit. I get watched like a hawk by the fucking old fart record clerk, who thinks I'm gonna steal some tapes, so I do. I got Grace Jones' 'Nightclubbing', The B-52's 'Bouncing off the Satellites', and some new shit by 'New Order'. Saw Exene Cervenka looking at magazines, and I practically creamed my jeans. Didn't see John Doe, I think she was there alone. Tried to be cool and wiggled past her to the used records, but she looked right at my stains and sneered. Decided to come home and change.

Took the bus back to the Hills, and it's not quite dusk. Thought about how old the palm trees must be as I witnessed a woman pick a booger and eat it.

As I came up the stairs to my apartment, I had the weirdest feeling. I don't know, like something was "off"...

I unlocked the front door, but it may have already been unlocked, I don't know. The TV was gone, my radio, my tapes--even my alarm clock, GONE. The hammock was strewn with clothes and I panicked as I saw they had gone through my closet, but then realized that this is just the sloppy way I'd left it. The window was opened about seven inches, and the heavy velvet drapes were flapping sadly in the breeze..

Had another panic when I thought about the robbers still being there--so I grabbed the scissors off the coffee table and stalked around with them, Aimed to Kill, like in a movie. In the kitchen they took the microwave, so that means I'm fucked and will be doomed to starve to death. Checked the oven (my "safe") and thank GOD everything was still there ($3k in cash, my grammaw's earrings, and the catsuit I'm stealing from Charlie.) Thank Christ I can't cook.

I'm still shaken up--Every time I can't find something (which is all the time) I go crazy and think the bad guys took it. Even my fucking canna Aquanet, or one of my lace-up boots. Shit!

I called and told Diane what happened--they didn't take my semi-collectible Mickey Mouse phone, for some reason--and she told me burglaries aren't that uncommon. Just to lock the doors and windows, and sleep with a knife under my pillow. Like, who doesn't do all that anyway, you stoned cunt?!? I mean, how the fuck am I supposed to cook poptarts without a goddamned microwave?

I'm thinking about moving. I'm only 19, I'll figure something out. Charlie said I can stay with her between the hours of 3-11pm, as long as I don't eat her food. Told her my "Exene" story, and she goes, "So what? 'X' sucks, get the fuck over it." I think it's because Billy Zoom ignored her when she tried to get his attention one night down on the Boulevard. But it kinda bummed me out when she said that.

Later that night, when Charlie asked about her catsuit, I told her the crooks got it.

Decided to be brave and stayed in my own apartment that night. You know, I'm lucky I'm a slob, coz the bad guys woulda made out with a lot more of my shit, if they could find it! Luckily I have a little boombox under the murphy bed. Layed in the hammock with a strawberry wine cooler and listened to all my new tapes.


Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Hookin' Ain't Easy


Broke my blue snakeskin heel last night tryin to do the hopscotch on Sunset. Picked up an Ugly Fucker called "Shebowne" and went to Pax's for peanut butter soup. Ditched "Sheb"with the bill, and slipped out the back past a wetback in a hairnet that was lickin mashed potatoes off the beater.

I totally fucking FORGOT to pay rent, so I went to Diane's (my landlady) house on the way home with a box of Little Debbie zebra cakes and half a joint to smooth shit over. Lied that I had to leave town earlier this month cos my mom died, so I'm gonna have to remember to act all sobby and shit next week when she does my past-life readings.

Charlie came up around 3A.M. lookin for her leather outfit that I stole and hid carefully in the oven~Mean Cunt stole my belt and my "Stevie Nicks" wig, and thinks my head's all up my ass about it. Anyway, I let her borrow Jackie Collins' 'Hollywood Wives' and a roll of tinfoil, so don't let me forget..Laid in the hammock all night eating wheat thins and salsa and watching 90210.

Charlie thinks I should dye my hair.

Oh, yeah, saw Angelyne(!) at the 7-11~bitch looks fucking ethereal. Asked her what shoe size she wore and she goes, "7!" all breathy and shit.


I wish I'da been thinking on my toes, cos I shoulda had her autograph my hotdog.

GOD! Charlie would be so jealous!