JAY'S
TRIP TO THE PORN CONVENTION
In my room, I packed all of the ammunition I would be needing for my impending trip to Vegas - fuck airline security, I couldn’t risk not finding drugs out there. I unrolled the top of my Old Spice stick and stuffed twenty-five hits of ecstasy, a vial of liquid acid, 50 Xanax, and about ten hits of super-potent peyote into the bottom of it, then rolled it back in. My lawyer had advised me not to take weed or coke because the dogs might smell it. I got to Las Vegas and bought some weed and coke.
I rolled into the opulent Venetian Hotel and went to check in my room. I noticed several pairs of novelty sized augmented titties arriving in the lobby almost ten minutes prior to the actual girl. It was then that full realization of where I was hit me – I was at Internext – the mutha' fuckin’ porn convention…and it was on!
I quickly went up to my room, smoked a joint to take the edge off the flight, and did a few lines to help with the jetlag. I called up the CJ guys and some of my other contemporaries who had already been there for a while, formed up a posse, and we hit the convention and porn parties. One thing I can say about those fucking conventions is they should supply some whiplash insurance with your badge. Ever other fucking second you were spinning your neck around at terminal velocity to catch glimpses of all the hot, steaming, slutty, porn snizz as it passed from every direction. It’s fucking great! The only downside of the hot, steaming, slutty, porn snizz is the equal amounts of dorky ass porno cheezeball guys who are always milling around. This eventually leads to a massive sausage parties. My lawyer advised me that it was time to head for Cheetahs.
If you do one thing when you go to Vegas, go to fucking Cheetahs! That place goddamn rules. I had a friend get $960 dollars swapped out of his front shirt pocket by some stripper there and he still wanted to go there every night. THAT’S A FUCKING ENDORSEMENT! The table dances will leave you pitching a carnival sized tent, the girl to guy ratio is amazingly high, you actually have a decent chance of taking a bitch home (pro-bono or paid services), and - perhaps most dangerous – IN NEVER CLOSES!! On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t go to Cheetahs - it will spoil all other titty bar establishments for life.
After dinking HEAVILY at Cheetahs we caught a limo back to the hotel. I was on my way back to up to my room when I noticed that I was in the midst of almost ten zillion ways to waste my money. I ignored my Lawyer’s advice, and went straight to the blackjack table. You could easily capture everyone’s Vegas gambling experiences in a key chain they could leave at the door of the casino that says, “Well, I was up for a while and then I played too long and lost everything.” That way we could save the world from the Greenhouse Effect by not putting the unnecessary carbon monoxide into the air when people utter those words. I sat at that table, playing losing hand after losing hand, till I vomited, shit myself, and passed out. Several well dressed men came along propped me back up, wiped off the vomit, handed me another drink, and encouraged me to continue gambling.
With little to no sleep, this process repeated itself over and over the next couple of days. As the party went on - acid, peyote, Viagra, ecstasy, and xanax were added to the mix. From that madness I recall a few standout moments – one of which I now refer to as “My Twenty Four Hour Pussy Fucking Rampage!” – where I fucked two pornstars, some Cheetah bitch, and another random slut. The two porn stats wouldn’t tell me who they were because they said I would have “heard of them”. It was funny though; I had a kind of DejaVu experience…like that I had dropped a load on their faces before. The Cheetah bitch gave me such a hardcore dick riding tabledance I told fell into the definition of foreplay – so, we had to seal the deal. The last bitch I boned in the Venetian’s parking garage.
Other highlights included: vomiting through the fingers on my hand, running into Lemmy backstage at the Players Ball, meeting Macaroni (the pimp the actual term “mackin’” came from), losing money over and over at blackjack, finding out from an actual eye witness that Robin Leach IS banned from the five star Delmonico’s Steakhouse for eating cheesecake from a hookers pussy, and taking shit after shit in the plush Venetian bathrooms. Viva Vas Vegas!!