Street Vibrations

This weekend was the much anticipated Street Vibrations Motorcycle Festival. 'Street Vibes', as the locals call it, is a Sturgis-like motorcycle rally that rolls through Virginia City, basically taking over the the town - think 10,000 bikers in a town of 900. The event sold-out hotels and brought in shit tons of cash for anyone selling libations. Along with the bikers, there were a couple thousand bead wielding tourists who made their way up with the intention of bartering for biker boobs. Basically a black leather Mardi Gras, sans coeds. There were a couple hot hardbodied biker babes, but the majority looked closer to Brett Butler.

I'd been looking forward to this weekend all summer, and to be honest it was a hair of a letdown. Don't get me wrong 'twas good times and revelry, but I wanted Sodom AND Gomorrah. And I only got Gomorrah. Unlike the NC-17/Tony Scott tales of yesteryear, there were no rooftop S.W.A.T. teams, no Hells Angels/Mongols brawl and no lessy park bench cunnilingus. I did however hookup with a cute girl sporting a two-tone dye job. I’m not sure if this oil & vinegar half blonde/half brunette look is mainly a Nevada fad or if it’s gone airborne, but it's downright trendy in these parts. As a side note the two-tone girl delivered the best pre-felatio, self-depreciating line I’ve ever heard. “I have to warn you... I’m not the best in the west at this”. Somewhere Woody Allen got his wings.

The most striking woman I saw was a CG-enhanced Spartan straight out of “300”. She had Gina Gershon’s face, Mickey Rourke’s body, Posh's over the muscle implants and long tangled stout Amazonian hair. Sounds odd I know, but I swear everyone in town was gunning for her. It takes mad game to bring down SPARTA!

I leave Wednesday, back to LA, first draft in hand. Overall it was a good last weekend. As William Hurt's character said in "The Big Chill", "He went out with a bang not a whimper."

BTW - Yusuf Islam's "... Sing Out" is meant to be quasi-endearing, not ironic.


Things I did International Camel Races Weekend

1. Watched camel races, ate tri-tip and drank beer.

2. Involuntarily served beans to the Virginia City bourgeoisie. The woman in charge of food for the VIP tent had graciously done my laundry several times pro-bono. As soon as I walked into the VIP tent she grabbed me, told me I owed her and handed me a serving spoon. As the hungry camel race enthusiasts stood in front of me I asked Sophie's choice, “Beans or Chili?”, then scooped. For the first time in my life I felt like I was giving back to a community.

3. Made out with a Camel Jockey. Cross that one off the bucket list!

4. Almost went home with a famed SoCal horse trainer – think calloused version of
Laura Dern in “Mask” sans blindness. Unfortunately I couldn’t get past her Bob Hoskins hands.

5. Had sex with a chain-smoking self-proclaimed "Colorado Party Girl" who began every sentence with the dudish preposition, "hey man". I wish her high school english teacher would have taken an inappropriate interest and given her a Henry Higgins tongue lashing.

6. Masturbated thinking about Bob Hoskins' hands.


Labor Day Weekend

A good looking bachelorette party was in town on Saturday. They all wore low cut tank tops catered for "suck for a buck", which is basically talking guys into paying $5 to mouth grab a Tootsie Pop from their cleavage (which was very good business considering the majority were pre-op Soleil Moon Frye stacked). Unfortunate for them I always pass on PG-13-sexual hustles for money - this includes the flirty shot girls with whistles in their mouths that try and bludgeon you with neon test tubes of sour-mix/vodka, and of course the Scientology chicks that offer HJ's for personality tests. I did wind up making-out with the cute flat chested one of the group. But that’s as far as it went, thanks to their no girl left behind bachelorette-party-of-the-traveling-pants pact.

The true highlight of the weekend though was my first Civil War Reenactment. Check out the short video I made below (I know the score is a bit obvious and excessive but "Goodbye Horses" just wasn't cutting right).


Pierced Teats and Hell's Angels

Saturday night I went to Union Brewery for the owner's birthday party. All the girls were encouraged by their boyfriends to flash the band. One of the girls was a bit apprehensive, because the bass player was her old high school teacher. She eventually gave in to the ubiquitous crescendoing “DO IT!” chant and lifted up her shirt for five seconds of teat pierced glory. This poses the Mary Kay Letourneau question - would you flash/expose yourself to an old teacher?

Speaking of flashing, at the end of September is a three-day Sturgis-like motorcycle rally called Street Vibrations. The Hells Angels, Mongols and other gangs overrun the town. They make drink in the saloons and parade down C Street showing off their bikes, colors and mamas' mammary glands. Apparently rooftop S.W.A.T. teams are on stand by, prepped for Angel on Mongol violence. Sounds like a Walter Hill movie. I think I'm wet. Can you dig it?!