Hello, my friend.

It’s been quite a while. I’ll save you the blow-by-blow (pun intended) account of the last several weeks and just say that I have been super busy.

I’m writing to you with good news, though. Team Fat Dick Simon is packed and on its way to the XBiz Summer Forum in beautiful Las Vegas, Nevada. We are on our way to the airport right now. It’s about 9:30AM, but I plan to start drinking as soon as I reach an airport bar. The beverage of choice this morning will be a bloody mary.

What did I bring? Aside from business cards, condoms, and my bathing suit, I’m packing around $3200 in cash (because drug dealers and hookers tend to not take personal checks and credit cards). This only gives me about $800 to blow (pun intended once again) each day, so I may have to visit a $5 service charge ATM at some point during my stay.

Anyway, I’m looking forward to getting really wasted doing a lot of business, and I’m going to try to liveblog as many events as possible, although I can’t promise anything since I can pretty much die at any time during this trip.

Stay tuned for the latest from Sin City…

You might have a problem if you roll into a 7/11 to cop a Rockstar and realize the Indan man (red dot, not native american) is only taking cash, then realize that the only cash you have is a $20, which would normally be cool, except for the fact that the bill you have is left over from your Friday night debauchery and is, naturally, caked with cocaine and blood, and rolled up in your front pocket. You also may have a problem if you spend over two minutes, with the Indian man’s help, attempting to unroll and flatten out the bill while a large line of patrons, who all know what is going on, stand and wait.

I’m not saying that this just happened to me; I’m just saying that you might have a problem if this happened to you..

Just wanted to let you know that I literally have absoutely no idea what happened last night. Also, I am pretty sure that I am going to die of a hangover within the next couple hours.

All I remember from last night is watching The Girl Next Door at my place by myself, calling a very incompetent black woman at Yellow Cab Co. around 1am, and then leaving for a party in Beverly Hills. After hitting the bar at the venue, the next thing I remember clearly is being driven back to my place in a really expensive car around 7am.

There is a good possibility I was roofied. Maybe I roofied myself. Actually, I don’t know what combination of drugs I did last night, but I doubt one vodka tonic was able to fuck me up so much. I’m pretty sure I did a lot of nose candy, and I have a hazy memory of also doing half an e, but I’m not ruling out harder drugs as well.

Going through my pockets, I recovered an assortment of business cards.

The problem here isn’t that I blacked out. I black out all the time. The problem is that I really don’t know who was at the party with me, so I don’t have anyone to call to ask what happened. This makes me nervous that there is a group of people located somewhere in the greater Los Angeles area that is currently talking about the highly inebriated douchebag they encountered at the party last night.

A couple hazy memories have come back to me throughout the day in between dry heaving episodes and naps. Each memory that surfaces makes me more convinced that I did things which disgraced myself and my family last night. I think I am alright with this. Here are some moments I remember:

• Attempting to light a cigarette the wrong way
  Someone had to point out that I had the wrong end in my mouth after several failed attempts? Have you ever smelled a burning filter? Smells like shit.
• Forgetting where I live
  I don’t know who drove me home, but I definitely gave him the wrong directions and ended up about a mile away from my house. I didn’t realize this until I staggered around and explored the area.
• Having a detailed conversation about my gay fantasies
  This has been happening more and more after drinking heavily, which leads me to believe that I should have a gay experience and blog about it in detail. I’ll keep you posted.

If anyone has any details on what happened last night, please let me know. Thanks.

I started drinking around 4:30pm yesterday. I was drunk by 5:30pm. I passed out in my boy Avi’s guest bedroom after puking in his guest bathroom around 7:45pm. Instead of talking about the excessive drinking that happened at Happy Hour, the oral sex that may or may not have occurred between two members of my group, the various illicit substances that were made available once I awoke from being passed out, or the sexy dance number given by a certain someone wearing no underwear while at Happy Hour, I would like to talk about what happened after I woke up from being passed out. Why? Um, four words for you: tequila and gay bars.

After waking up around 8pm from being passed out, I got a cab back to my place so I could puke more, take a shower, change my shirt, masturbate, and put some expensive product in my hair. Why the product? I was on my way to hit up the gay circuit.

While at home, I did all of the above, had another beer, and hopped in a cab to head out to some hipster bar in Hollywood, where I ordered a 32oz High Life. Yes, they serve High Life in 32oz bottles at hipster bars. No, I don’t like High Life. Yes, the 32oz High Life bottle is typically split among multiple. No, I did not attempt to split the 32oz High Life bottle with either of the two classy bitches I was with.

After the hipster bar, the ladies and I went to West Hollywood to get drunk(er) and see a lot of cock. If you are a regular Fat Dick Simon reader, you know that everytime I do shots of Tequila, crazy stuff happens. That being said, we started out with a round of double Patron shots. That’s how I roll.

We made our way to another gay bar, where I got some more double tequila shots and transformed to a dancing machine as soon as I heard Kelly Clarkson. Speaking of being a dancing machine, there was another dancing machine (gay) who tried to make out with me after I rubbed my ass on his dick. Call me crazy, but I would rather give another guy a blowjob than make out with him.

Unfortunately, I can’t mention certain activities that happened at the gay bar because what happens at the gay bar stays at the gay bar, but I will say that there were plenty of gaysians, and there was plenty of dancing, including some super hot action involving the railing on the dance platform.

My favorite thing about being at a gay bar is that you can dance with anything and everything. No one gives a fuck. AND everytime you urinate, you get at least one blowjob offer. Oh, also if you pretend to be gay, you can grab boobs all night without fear of being slapped. Gay guys get away with that shit for some reason.

While leaving the bar, I realized that one member of our group, let’s call her Classy Bitch #1, was starting to feel the effects of the roofie-colada I gave her was pretty inebriated. The other member of my group, we’ll call her Classy Bitch #2, had somehow managed to take off her bra and was looking good. Classy Bitch #1 had problems walking, so we had to rest on the corner while a big group of flamboyantly gay guys were flashing a camera. These gay guys were under the impression that they were being filmed for The Real World. Hey, jackasses, Real World Los Angeles was done in 1993. Remember? That was the season with that alcoholic Irish guy and the black guy that got kicked out.

Let me paint a picture for you. No really, I opened up MS Paint and painted this gem below because it was the highlight of my night, and even a literary talent like myself cannot skillfully craft the English language well enough to accurately describe what happened. The scene below depicts Classy Bitch #1 puking on a hill, Classy Bitch #2 holding back Classy Bitch #1’s hair, and your boy Fat Dick holding Classy Bitch #2’s bra. I smelled it.

You’ll notice that Classy Bitch #1 is in the doggystyle position and Classy Bitch #2 looks like she is mounting classy Bitch #1. This was really hot. I got a halfie when I was imagining them doing that scissor thing with their legs that lesbians always do. Hot. Plus, since Classy Bitch #2 had already removed her bra and since Classy Bitch #1 was getting into some weird positions, I got plenty of nipple peeks. Hot.

I expected the night to end with me trying to leave the club with a creepy older guy who invited me back to his place to ’smoke some weed and watch his plasma TV’ (that’s how it starts with the homosexuals), but I ended up being remarkably sober at the end of the night despite having consumed somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty drinks throughout the course of the day.

Realizing that I was sober made me wonder if the night was a waste until I heard Classy Bitch say the following:

“I haven’t been this drunk since my 21st birthday”

Success. Hey, tequila will fuck you up. I can’t even count the number of times that I have puked outside of gay clubs after taking tequila shots.

I would write more, but I have an appointment for an AIDS test that I have to get to.

As I write this, I am recovering from the two day drinking and business binge that was the XBiz Hollywood Conference. There was a great business vibe in the air for the whole show, the seminars were interesting, and the parties were, um, ok. But there was tons of free booze, which made up for any shortcomings of the parties themselves.

The night before the show, there was a party in the Roosevelt Hotel lobby. By the way, the Roosevelt Hotel is super nice. I went to the party planning to only stay for an hour or two and not get drunk, but someone I met challenged me to a shot contest, and I ended up getting completely smashed, somehow catching a cab home, and passing out after talking jibberish for slightly less than an hour.

When I woke up the next day, I felt energized and ready to attend a talk on the .xxx issue. The fact that I felt great further proves that there is, in fact, a difference between brands of liquor. I pounded about fifteen shots of Belvedere the night before, and I doubt that I would have felt the same if I had pounded fifteen shots of Popov. The .xxx talk was pretty heated because Stuart Lawley (the person who began the .xxx movement) from ICM was on the panel. I was hoping that chairs would be thrown at him by angry industry professionals, but unfortunately that did not happen. Rather than describe the panel, I’ll just point you to my boy Q’s detailed write-up of the event.

Following the .xxx panel, I immediately started getting trashed at the Tropicana Bar where the average drink is $14. The dent in my wallet was only temporary, as an open bar started at 4:30PM, and there was an open bar at 2PM in the XBiz suite. I staggered over to Hooters for a few minutes, but had to leave to make it back to the XBiz suite for their party.

XBiz had the Marilyn Monroe Suite in the Roosevelt Hotel. They also had some hot go-go dancers, two bars, and so many people that they ended up having some problems with the fire marshall. The suite was absoutely amazing. It was three stories, the third being a huge rooftop area.

I left the XBiz suite to head over to the AdultSpace party at a hot Hollywood club. I want to personally thank AdultSpace for delivering on absoutely nothing that they promised for the party (notice how they don’t get a link). My group and I had to buy bottles and deal with a bunch of Hollywood bullshit to get into the club even though we were supposed to be on the magical AdultSpace VIP list, and once we got inside, we realized that there were about five people from the adult industry in the club. There was, however, a constant line of Persian guys in Diesel jeans waiting for the bathroom so they could do lines of coke off their friends cocks. After spending the better portion of my life savings on our bottles, I staggered out of the club.

After the club, I went to a strip club for a few minutes. The strip club was fully nude, so there was no booze, which made me a little uncomfortable. I bought a few lapdances, had a stripper offer to blow me, and did a bunch of nose candy. Not too much to talk about there.

This is where my night really starts getting hazy. I blacked out for about half an hour, and when I regained consciousness, I was on the bed of someone’s hotel room. I quickly realized that I was in the room of a well-known male pornstar I had met earlier in the night. There was some type of exchange between us, and the next thing I knew I was watching him fuck some chick he had brought back with him. Mind you this is a king size bed and I was roughly two feet away from all of the action, but I was so gone at this point of the night that watched while going in and out of consciousness.

I don’t know how I did it, but I made it back to my place finally and passed out. When I woke up this morning, I felt great.

I slept until about 2PM, so I had to hurry to the Roosevelt Hotel to catch Larry Flint giving the final keynote address. This was the main reason that I registered for the show, and it did not disappoint at all. Larry Flint is an amazing guy, and he talked about the First Amendment, the future of porn, Paris Hilton (whom he called a ‘two-bit slut’), and various other political issues.

I was really inspired by his determination to fight for his First Amendment rights. Larry Flint doesn’t give a fuck. I could go on and on about all of the amazing things that he said, but I’ll sum it up by quoting his response to the question “Are you proud to be a pornographer?” Without skipping a beat (this was definitely his fastest answer to any question posed), he said loudly, “I’m proud to be a pornographer.” Larry motherfucking Flint.

I had a couple drinks at the Tropicana Bar and in the XBiz suite after the keynote address, but I skipped the XBiz Awards tonight to do some work at home. The show was ultimately very productive, and it definitely ended on a high note with Larry Flint’s address.

Now it’s time to start making some money with the new contacts I made during the show.

I flew into Las Vegas to pack in as much business as possible in a little more than twenty-four hours. I was disappointed that I did not have enough time in the last several weeks to prepare properly for Internext, so I decided to just do a night of partying and a day of meetings rather than attending the entire show.

I checked into my hotel around 4PM, where I somehow ended up with one of the presidential suites for an amazing rate. I don’t know if it was some kind of Orbitz mixup, but I wasn’t about to ask anyone how I was able to land a suite with three rooms, two bathrooms, a jacuzzi, and a huge plasma TV for less than what I would have paid for a regular room at Mandalay Bay (where Internext is being held this year).

After exploring the two bathrooms and three bedrooms in my suite, I made my way to the Bellagio buffet for an impromptu meeting with some people who work on the technology side of the industry. At my table were account representatives from major hosts, programmers, SEOs, and project managers. The buffet was amazing, and the conversation was just as good. We talked about everything from RSS feeds to database replication and load balancing.

After dinner, I went to The Mix Lounge at THEhotel at Mandalay Bay for a birthday party. I had never been to The Mix, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. After my last trip to Vegas, I was pretty disappointed with the quality of clubs, but the people at The Mix were super nice with no attitudes and the view of the Strip from the club is amazing. The Mix is up on the 64th floor of THEhotel, which is located all the way at the end of the Strip, so you can imagine what the view is like. The staff was even nice enough to show us to the elevators and help find our floor when we were all to wasted to do it ourselves.

After leaving The Mix, I did a pretty lengthy suite party circuit. I hit up about four different suite parties and got to hang out in some of the largest hotel rooms in Vegas. What am I talking about? Full bars, jacuzzis, multiple bathrooms, plush couches, personal butlers, bidets, and plenty of hotties.

I had a great time hanging out with major program owners in their suites, and I ended up doing a lot of business. I left the Mandalay Bay around six in the morning, and at this time I was on a mission to get laid by a cougar. Cougars run rampant in Vegas, and I noticed two super hot cougars at a blackjack table when I returned to my hotel at 6:30AM. I figured it would be a great time to pick up some cougars which were obviously neglected during the night, so I attempted to play blackjack with them. Unfortunately, since I don’t ever play blackjack, I lost about two hundred dollars after half an hour and three Heinekens. In true cougar style, the ladies tossed me two hundred dollar chips, which I used to win another fifty dollars, but I was unable to get them back into my room despite spitting my a-game, so I gave their money back plus the fifty dollar profit, and returned to my room a little before 8AM.

I ordered some hotel porn and continued drinking until around 10:30AM because I couldn’t sleep. I slept for about forty-five minutes, checked out, and made my way to the opening of Internext a little after noon.

I had four meetings scheduled before my return flight, so the day was busy. The show looked good despite all of the criticism that it has gotten over the last couple weeks. Hopefully, the Internext people will be able to turn the show around with this one.

Was I successful in doing a shitload of business and getting wasted in slightly more than twenty-four hours? Fuck yes. I got to talk a lot about celebrity traffic for my newest site with very experienced people, which was one of my goals for this show, and I ended up closing not one, not two, but three major deals, one of which was a major investment deal in a new technology. My Internext quickie was definitely successful.

I hate tequila, and before last night, I honestly think I have never ordered a tequila shot from a bar. Unfortunately, on a fairly regular basis, I find a tequila shot in front of me late at night, and I get pressured to take it. I’m a total sheep, so of course I down it and yell something like ‘Cuervo!’ or ‘Te-Kill Ya!’ but I know that as soon as I down the phantom tequila shot, the night is about to take a turn for the worse.

What do I mean by ‘turn for the worse?’ Included in the ‘turn for the worse’ category are such events as fucking fat chicks, passing out under a car, puking on myself, getting into a bar fight and wetting my bed.

Last night, I found myself at an authentic Irish pub in San Francisco with some friends discussing this very topic. Accordingly, we came up with a plan to take on the Tequila-Only Challenge. You can do it at home! Here are the rules we came up with:

1. You May Only Drink Tequila
   No mixed drinks (this includes margaritas), no water, no red bull, and no other liquids unless they are tequila. Tequila on the rocks is ok as long as you down it before the ice melts too much (thus becoming ultimately a mixed drink).
2. Lime Is The Only Acceptable Chaser/Additive
   My compadres called me pussy for coming up with this rule, but I can’t really deal with the taste of tequila and thought that it was a necessity.
3. Once You Drink Something Other Than Tequila, You’re Done
   That’s right. No ‘taking a break’ from the Tequila-Only Challenge. Once you stop drinking tequila shots, you are done drinking completely and you must return to your residence.
4. Only Pay With Cash
   This is not an official Tequila-Only Challenge rule, but I imposed this rule on myself because, on a night where I am only drinking tequila, there is no way that I am going to be sober enough to close a tab.

Let me reiterate that I absoutely hate tequila.

Like I said, we were in an Irish pub, so we figured that it was the perfect place to begin the Tequila-Only Challenge by taking some inaugural Tequila-Only Challenge tequila shots. After all, there is nothing more Irish than tequila. Shots one and two were not at all easy and I had difficulties keeping the tequila down even after sucking on about four lime slices.

After we embarked on the Tequila-Only Challenge, I knew that the night would be a complete mess. It was. Here is the timeline:

8:15PM Gather More Supplies

We left the Irish pub at this point to pick up some tequila from a nearby liquor store. I knew it would be a late night, and I did not want last call to get in the way of our fun. We purchased three (3) bottles of Patron, two (2) handles of Jose Cuervo (not my idea), and two (2) bottles of Tarantula (my favorite), along with fifteen (15) limes.

8:20PM Return To My Hotel

My room was fucking huge this weekend, so I figured it would be best to make use of the extra space by having some people over to drink tequila heavily.

8:35PM First Puking Incident

After tequila shot number five (Patron), I puked. Did I mention that I hate tequila?

8:55PM Second Puking Incident

After tequila shot number seven (Jose), I puked again. I was craving water at this point because the tequila tasted like homeless man asshole, but unfortunately water is prohibited by Tequila-Only Challenge rule #1.

9:15PM They Have Tequila At Sports Bars

We ordered a round of tequila at the sports bar downstairs at my hotel. Why not finish off the tequila in my room? We were trying to recruit more people for the Tequila-Only Challenge. We were unsuccessful, but we were six strong at this point, and we were about to meet up with a larger crew at a club.

10:05PM Tequila Bottle Service

We took a cab out to one of my favorite San Francisco nightspots, and got some bottle service. What did we order? Two bottles of Patron, silly! At this point, I would like to commend one member of our party. Unfortunately I am not able to mention her name on the blog, but her commitment to the Tequila-Only Challenge was amazing as she literally threw a bottle of chaser brought out by out waitress across the room. Amazing.

10:40PM Third Puking Incident

I was most likely around shot number twelve when I had to puke into a napkin at our table. I promptly walked to the middle of the dancefloor where I dropped the napkin. Hopefully someone stepped on it.

11:00PM Not Just Drunk, Tequila Drunk

You know how you get all weird and want to slap chicks while fucking them up the ass after you drink a few forties? There is no way you would be in that kind of mood after a couple vodka tonics. Malt liquor gives you a different kind of drunk feeling. What is a tequila drunk feeling like? Aside from wanting to pick up a Latina hooker on Craig’s List, I wanted to pass out pretty badily. I had difficulty with nearly all motor functions, and all I could think about was passing out while getting blown by a Craig’s List Latina hooker.

12:15PM Hit On A Bartender

By this point of the night, word had gotten out that the Tequila-Only Challenge was underway. I got a bartender to take two tequila shots with me after giving her a hefty tip. I’m pretty sure that I hit on her at this point, but I was talking jibberish game, which proved ineffective in landing pussy.

12:50AM Tequila Shower Wake-Up

I want to thank whoever woke me up at our table by pouring tequila all over my face. Aside from almost drowning, I almost puked (again) and my face smelled like shit. Thanks again.

1:20AM Back To The Hotel

A pretty large group came back to my room, where a fairly large tequila supply had our names on it.

1:45AM Fourth Puking Incident

Things were starting to get pretty bad. I was seeing double, and must have had at least twenty tequila shots at this point.

1:50AM Possible Remedy: Stimulants

Typically, when I dip into the devil’s dandruff, I am able to consume more alcohol and my drunkness is dampened. In order to attempt to get out of the tequila hell that my body was trapped in, I suggested taking it to the rails (allowed in the Tequila-Only Challenge). Everyone agreed that it was a very good idea, and I began chasing lines with tequila shots. Bad motherfucking news.

2:45AM Slightly Less Drunk

My suggestion proved to be successful, but I began getting nervous that an all-nighter was coming on. While the Tequila-Only Challenge was still in full effect, the crowd was substituting tequila shots for rails more and more as the night continued. I thought about this for a second and then realized that I was really wasted and I didn’t care.

3:00AM Second Wind

I got my second wind around three. I don’t know what brought it on, but I suddenly realized that tequila had stopped tasting like shit. I was so wasted that tequila became completely tasteless, which allowed me to drink more. Much more.

5:00AM Tap Out

After consuming copious amounts of tequila and blow without any water, I had to tap out at around five. The Tequila-Only Challenge was over. Other Tequila-Only Challengers finished shortly after.

When I woke up this afternoon, I had a horrible taste in my mouth which nearly made me puke, and I had the worst hangover I have ever had. This is exactly what I expected when I embarked on the Tequila-Only Challenge.

Feel free to post comments with your Tequila-Only Challenge experiences. I suggest you do this at home.

I don’t really like smoking weed, but every once in a while I’m in the mood to hit up the chronic.  Unfortunately, immediately after smoking I remember why I don’t smoke regularly.

I’m up in San Francisco for the weekend, and yesterday, after a busy day, I took some business associates out for a night tour of Alcatraz.  The tour was pretty creepy, but the best part was the ferry ride out to the island during sunset.  From the top level of the ferry in the middle of the bay, you can see the entire San Francisco skyline, and it was a perfectly clear day (no fog), which made it a pretty amazing sight.

The problem was that by the time I got on the ferry to depart for Alcatraz, I was pretty stoned off some weed that was described to me as ’some bomb shit,’ and my trip made the Alcatraz audio tour pretty scary.  At first blazing and checking out the sunset on the top of a ferry and then getting scared at Alcatraz sounded like a pretty good idea (not my idea), but once I got high, I started hearing some crazy echoes and giggling while getting lost in D-Block.  Another blunt was burned outside on the dock at Alcatraz, which made my evening even more trippy.  I kind of started freaking out and while walking through the hospital at Alcatraz, I wished that I had not blazed the magnificent Cali greens.

So that was my ‘Oh yeah, that’s why I don’t smoke!’ experience.  I’ll be good for another few weeks.  Actually, it could have been much worse.  Being stoned and on the Rock was a pretty trippy and creepy experience, but I guess that is how it’s supposed to be.

After dinner last night, we ended up blazing up a little more and checking out some excellent deep house music out at DNA Lounge until about 4am.  Relatively uneventful, but I danced my ass off for a solid six hours.

Tonight, well, I have a feeling some crazy stuff is going to go down.  I’m not sure exactly what this crazy stuff is, though.  Perhaps CraigsList hookers.  No one knows.

Somehow, I managed to not completely belligerent last night during my New Year’s Eve festivities.  When I woke up in my own bed (I was hoping to pass out under a car somewhere in the greater Los Angeles area), I was pretty disappointed, and I’ll definitely have to hit the bottle extra hard this week in order to make up for my sub-par drinking performance last night.

Above is a picture of the party supplies that my roommates and I purchased for last night’s festivities.  Needless to say, we spared no expense as we picked up twenty bottles of Charles Shaw wine and ten bottles of Andre champagne (strawberry and brut).  For me, it doesn’t get much better than assigning the task of downing at least one bottle of wine to each one of the partygoers (but mostly the females).

Hopefully, you also had a fun and safe New Year’s Eve celebration, and hopefully you didn’t end up fucking a fat chick last night (*cough*).  Your boy Fat Dick wishes you the best of luck in 2007.

On Saturday night, I had to run over to the bay area to take care of some business that apparently couldn’t wait until I return tomorrow (three days later).  While the trip was kind of a pain, I ended up having a good time as I always do when I make a visit to the bay.

I arrived to my hotel in the afternoon, where the company I had to meet with had an amazing holiday gift basket waiting for me.  This basket ended up being crucial in the night’s festivities (read below).  After a quick meeting on-site at a company office, we went out to dinner where I began getting smashed.  Some random San Franciscan hotties found their way to our table.  They claimed that they were pornstars, but I had a hard time believing them because one of the bitches had a fucked up grill.

After some quick lines off the table, I staggered out of the restaurant and caught a cab to Ruby Skye where I danced my ass off for roughly five hours.  To cool down afterwards, I went with a few friends to a strip club.  The club was kind of weak and most of the chicks working looked like they should have been working the afternoon shift, so the party was once again relocated to my hotel room, where we started in on the bottles of Belvedere from my gift basket since it was after last call.

After moving around the contents of my gift basket, I noticed that there was what looked to be an eight ball buried underneath some grapes.  Score!  I couldn’t believe it at first, but further investigation proved that I definitely got hooked up with the best gift basket ever.  The only problem was that my compadres and I ended up staying up until around eight in the morning the next day and I felt like I was going to die all the way home after I checked out.

I was back at home with my family for Christmas Eve, and ended up having a great Christmas despite an amazingly bad hangover from my San Francisco antics.  Christmas, probably my least favorite holiday, didn’t suck this year.