Tuesday, October 03, 2006


I flew to LA again on Thursday night to get out of my head for awhile. A fan of girls in their skivvies, I booked tickets for my friends at Lolita’s Cabaret Thursday night on Sunset Boulevard. I loved the host, a foul mouthed buxom woman in a tight corset that made fun of hipsters in the audience and said areole a few too many times for my comfort level.

The Akira act featured a little Asian girl in a black and red vinyl getup with matching rain coat prancing around to some Siouxsie Sue song, when she ripped away all of her pleather undergarments her LCD pasties lit up like the 4th of July. I was 7 drinks into it but nevertheless it was a beautiful sight.

D told me about the Avalon, which I booked for Friday, it is absolutely gorgeous. I would highly recommend anyone not afraid to drop some serious cash to check it out. The cabana areas around the pool are private and a great backdrop to a game of footsies and even more perfect if you run into people you don’t want to see or be seen by. A side note, the rooms come equipped with an Ipod dock and ottoman that just begs to be spanked upon.

Saturday night was the Standard, downtown LA location. After spending an unforgivable amount of time primping, miss thing and I headed up to the rooftop deck for some Saturday night action. They have these little pods that are reminiscent of something from 3rd grade that used to smell like pee and always had a dank feel to them, except these were clean and filled with a waterbed. We bounced and floated around in our private oasis until fueled with plenty of vodka we walked over the chaise area where we were approached by two young men. They looked no older than 17, a vision of homoerotism, walking, breathing Calvin Klein ads. I thought for sure they were gay and that we would be safe. Little did I know I would be chased by one of them stark naked 15 minutes later in our hotel room while the other preyed upon my now quite intoxicated friend. As he was chasing me around the tub (in which 6 people could easily fit into), located in the center of the room, black rosary flailing about his tiny body, I was collecting his converse shoes and tossing them out the door trying desperately to get them out of the room before I ended up in jail for statutory rape or encouraging public indecency. Once I rid us of the Columbians I ordered pay per view and kicked it while my friend snored off her hangover. I peeked out of my room door in search of fire for my unlit cigarette. A cute Asian boy walked by and happily obliged. I heard a knock on my door 5 minutes later where he stood with a fist full of matchbooks and a wry smile. I thanked him and closed the door. Another 15 minutes later and he’s at my door with the burger I ordered and asks if I want company. Turns out he’s a designer from New York and I ended up chatting him up for a bit while we sat Indian style on the floor. It was so weird, in this beautiful hotel in the middle of the city of angels and the most decent person I met was the bellboy. Eventually he headed out and I crawled into bed with miss thing, dreaming of floating waterbeds and bizarre strangers.

Pics Jodi and I spending too much time in hotel rooms with cocktails

Tagged: [The Standard]


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