Friday, August 12, 2005

the virgin prevails, gets nose job.

Went to San Francisco see the Ma Dukes on her birthday.

I sat next to the union organizer, very San Francisco. But I noticed a celebrity DJ on my flight. It was kind of cool that he took such a humble flight, even if he was on his way to DJ at San Francisco's grossest and most unfortunately titled club.

(I know about this club because I went there with an, uh, associate of mine: the Russian-Jewish gangster who supplements his income from working for his mom (even a Jewish gangster works for his Ma Dukes) by running a club photography business. )

It was cold as hell in the Bay, and everyone seemed ugly and boring to look at. Except my homegirls, but I might have been blinded by love. And anyway, my homegirls wear skintight Budwieser dresses and audition for American Idol... that's anamolously wicked for the serious-minded women of the Bay Area.


My brother and I went out and I gravitated without even thinking to a pupuseria where only Spanish was spoken and a persistent old lady tried to sell him a rose-scented rosary until she realized he just didn't understand her.

I checked fourfour everyday, for new Bobby Brown updates or just good cat pictures. I made everyone listen to the mysterious extra MIA track I found on the copy of Arular I bought at Target.

.....Is your dad a dealer? Cuz you're dope to me....

I party-hopped with the Russian-Jewish gangsters. They have always been proudly crude, lazy, and mysogynistic but I used to like that, compared to the leftist bellowing that passes for socializing at Berkeley. This time it messed with my, uh, christian love??? I texted LAPop editor and got this simple affirmation from his drunk Mexican fingers:

"Guadalupano siempre"

Cool. Very LA.

Russian Gangsters and I proceeded to a decent club where I found a heartbroken gay reporter friend, and achieved a dance floor resolution: the Virgin prevailed.

I woke up in time for Ma Duke's birthday festivities: drunk crime reporters and depressed gossip columnists lamenting the terrible state of their newspaper.

Sad.

I would have been much more comfortable if they had all had bad plastic surgury, or were under indictment for fraud.

Los Angeles has bitten me good.

1 Comments:

Blogger Hoodia said...

Help me Dude, I think I'm lost..... I was searching for Elvis and somehow ended up in your blog, but you know I'm sure I saw him in a car lot yesterday, which is really strange because the last time I saw him was in the supermarket. No honest really, he was right there in front of me, next to the steaks singing "Love me Tender". He said to me (his lip was only slightly curled) "Boy, you need to get yourself a San Diego cosmetic surgery doctor ,to fit into those blue suede shoes of yours. But Elvis said in the Ghetto nobody can afford a San Diego plastic surgery doctor. Dude I'm All Shook Up said Elvis. I think I'll have me another cheeseburger. Then I'm gonna go round and see Michael Jackson and we're gonna watch a waaaay cool make-over show featuring some Tijuana dentists on the TV in the back of my Hummer. And then he just walked out of the supermarket singing. . . "You give me love and consolation,
You give me strength to carry on " Strange day or what? :-)

8:12 PM  

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