1. Saturday, November 2, 2002

    while slash and ron wood posed infront of a private 

    showing of fine art across the street from xbi’s headquarters, i was fingering chopper one contemptating “testing” it to see if it could make it up to frisco so i could see tsar and then back down to los feliz to partake in ken and laura’s day of the dead costume party when i heard the familar voice in my ear mail that said “simone.”

    i accepted the message and the voice said

    Subject: Free laker ticket for tonight…amazing seats. call me, call me, call me.

    Hey dork!! Listen, I don’t have your cell #…and I thought that I might catch you at work. I have an extra ticket to the Laker game tonight…amazing seats in one of the suites. My cousin is six and bailed out last minute. Call my cell @ 323-555-0101 if you want to go.

    Kisses Dahhhhhhhrling.

    The lovely miss simone.

    a car arrived and in it a beautiful dark skinned girl who looked like whitney houston waited for me with a greasy bag with the beautiful words fatburger printed on it and i recognized the woman, she was simones friend from caa, and she was an aquarius. i got in.

    fatburger with chili and cheese, dr. pepper, seasoned fries and sweating next to the fully stocked bar was a large chocolate shake.

    is this what everyone got waiting for them when the whistle blew on 5:30 on friday?


    drove down wilshire to k town and whitney i’d met before, her name wasnt whitney, though. it was, what was it? and there i saw it spelled out in gold dangling from her neck and who hasnt found that sexy as hell as it sparkles from the overhead passing streetlights getting their peek through the moonroof.

    the car dropped us off at simones, i gave my top hat to the doorman who flipped it upside down so i could stuff my gloves in it and nodded and said, “mr. pierce.”

    we walked to the elevator and the young woman whispered, he reads your blog. and that explained everything.

    simone had just arrived herself when we were greeted at the penthouse level, she put in millie jackson and the two ladies began to dance and i sat down flipping through the new mojo freshly removed from its plastic cover.

    simone stirred up some drinks quickly for her man was about to arrive. our true host. hangar one vodka and riffraff for the ladies. bacardi neat for the gentleman.

    i tore through the final 50 pages of white oleander and nearly finished but the ladies were going through several different combinations of clothes asking my advice switching up varietis of original miss simone jewlery designs, so needless to say it was distracting as i felt i was backstage in one of the milan fashion week tents, but who’s complaining. simone turned up the knob and pointed at the stereo and sang along with millie and posed while she danced.

    i said you really dont need to do that for me.

    she said honey who said i was doing it for you.

    her babydoll tshirt said

    its all about me.

    i had to pee.

    this is possibly the finest thing ive ever read. thanks, bloviator