This scene happened about three chairs over from me, poolside, at Internext this afternoon.  The image itself isn’t all that shocking, but consider this: the sex act performed above was not filmed for distribution.  No, it was filmed for personal enjoyment, and the two people involved met approximately forty-five seconds before this picture was taken.  I heard their fucking intro.

Plus, the chick is a little fat and the dude has a handlebar mustache.

As an added FYI, I’m starting to be pretty drunk since I just finished another $200 pitcher of Mojitos (real price).  This concerns me because it is only about 3PM here in Florida.  I have a long evening ahead of me, so I should probably start in on the cocaine to compensate.

Oh, also there are about fifty strippers poolside right now, so I need to ditch this Wi-Fi connection in my cabana and start trying to get laid.

I’m on a private jet right now at LAX. Why? Because your boy Fat Dick doesn’t fly with the common folk. Also because your boy Fat Dick had a couple friends at a major porn company who owed him a favor. Suffice to say that we have packed a private jet with plenty of tequila and are bound for Ft. Lauderdale International Airport. Unfortunately one member in our crowd is still MIA, so we are playing a drinking game called ‘take a tequila shot for every fifteen minutes that go by.’ I’m probably going to puke in a few minutes.

Anyway, it is time once again for an awesome paid vacation business networking opportunity. Yes, my friend. I am talking about Internext. I have an itinerary for the show that is three pages long, and I also have an incredible appetite for alcohol and drugs. We’ll see how things turn out.

I will try to send at least one update, complete with pics, from Florida, but no guarantees. Operating my Blackberry once the madness begins will be quite a chore.

I have an AOL account that I never use. I completely forgot to cancel it three years ago when I realized that AOL sucks, and I get billed like thirty bucks each month because I am too lazy to call AOL and sit through a half hour phone call while the customer service representative tries to get me to rethink my decision to cancel.

Seriously, though. I tried one time thinking that it was going to be a quick ‘I want to cancel’ ‘OK sir, sorry you weren’t happy with us’ kind of thing. Boy, was I wrong. It wasn’t until I researched a little that I realized cancelling an AOL account is notoriously difficult.

AOL customer service is fucking awesome because they don’t view customers who want to cancel as customers who are soon to leave their service. No, my friend. AOL customer service views customers who want to cancel as new customers because they can turn them on to new features of AOL and regain their trust. I’m pretty sure that someone needs to look into starting this type of attitude in adult.

Anyway, the bottom line here is that I still have an AOL account. I don’t have a copy of AOL on my computer because I consider it a waste of disk space, so in order to access my AOL email (where I get SPAM sent), I need to hit up AOL’s webmail suite. I can’t get AOL mail in my email client because for some reason AOL has a problem with IMAP and using an outgoing SMTP server that is not theirs. This means nothing to 80% of my readers, but I felt like using a lot of acronyms.

One more acronym for you: AJAX. I hate it, and it’s all over AOL’s webmail suite. When my browser isn’t crashing as a result of this AJAX overload, it tends to eat up about 80-90% of my system resources.

Enough tech talk, though. Bottom line here is that AOL sucks, and so does AOL’s webmail suite. Or at least that’s what I thought until I encountered this gem while trying to send an attachment:

That’s right.  I was trying to send some pics to someone, mentioned that I attached them, but I forgot to do so.  How many times has this happened to you?  I know it has happened to me tons of times, and I always look pretty dumb when someone emails me back with ‘dude I didn’t get the attachment.’  Then I have to resend, and the whole process can delay the attachment several hours.

I’m going to go head and mark this as the biggest innovation in email in the last ten years.  This is a problem many people have regularly, AOL noticed it, solved it, and accordingly save their users time as a result.  That’s what business is supposed to be about.

By the way, I want whatever underpaid staffer at AOL came up with this gem for team FatDickSimon.  I’ll pay whatever it takes.  This guy is fucking smart.

I’d also like to request this functionality in Thunderbird because I never use AOL mail, and I just forgot to attach an attachment yesterday while using Thunderbird.

Way to go AOL.  I think you suck a little less because of this, and I am going to go ahead and continue getting billed for a service that I never use just to help you crank out innovation like this.

Seriously, though.  I really like that feature.

I don’t know if you noticed, but whenever I have a really savage weekend, you can expect a blog entry so late that it is almost irrelevant.  With that said, I would like to talk about what I did last weekend because I am officially recovered.  Oh, it’s Friday of the following week.

Last Friday night, I went pretty hard.  One of my biggest clients was in town for the night, so I had to entertain.  We hit Hyde for a bit, then went to a house party in the hills.  The thing I really like about Hyde is that the service is pretty fucking awesome.  The second the last drop of Grey Goose is poured, some hottie in a tight top is back at your table with another $500 bottle.  Put that on the company AmEx, bitch.

Even though I couldn’t really see straight when I arrived at the after party, the action didn’t really heat up until about 3am.  By that time, we were hitting the rails in a major way, and I had already dropped a couple tabs of e earlier in the night, so my head was spinning.  I recall some lesbian sex going on in the pool, but Friday was one of those nights where no one really wants to discuss what happened out of fear that something extremely embarrassing went down.  I’m alright with that.

I somehow passed out (shocker) and woke up at around 8am.  Surprisingly, I was on a bed in a room full of people, but no one seemed very concerned with the fact that some dude was passed out on the bed.  I checked in the mirror to confirm that there was not a penis drawn on my forehead, then proceeded to do some cocaine to wake up.  I was so out of it at this point that I honestly had absoutely no idea where I was.  The room was so unfamiliar, but I had to play it cool because people were talking to me and I couldn’t just straight up ask where I was.  I came up with the theory that I was in Florida (where I’ll be this week for Internext) in my hotel room.  I wondered how much of the show I had missed.

After I realized that I was just in Hollywood, I called a cab and passed out around 10am.  I woke up around 3pm feeling like shit.  I don’t usually get hung over at all, but even after a few tabs of vicodin, I still wanted to hang myself in the shower.  I ordered out some food, tried to regain my composure, masturbated in the shower, and did a little work.  Nothing seemed to help with this hangover from hell.  When all else fails, continue drinking.

I tried to rally the troops for happy hour and remembered that my friend/business partner Stephanie had arrived to LA earlier in the week from Paris.  We arrived at happy hour around 5:30pm and were drunk by 6pm.  Around that time, I got a call from a friend.  He had stumbled upon some acid and wanted to know if I wanted some.  He dropped off ten tabs at the bar.  Stephanie and I were going to have one hell of a night.

Before we took the acid, we had a pretty lengthy discussion of what we were going to do.  We decided we wanted to do something really cool instead of just hitting up bars or watching Pink Floyd’s The Wall.  Several possibilities were mentioned, and the stakes were continually risen until I came up with the idea to do a Las Vegas trip.  We had no time to pack or get a change of clothes.  Instead, we did two hits of acid each and told a cabbie we needed to get to the airport fast.  I booked us a flight on the way to the airport and started calling hotels.

Flights to Las Vegas from LAX go out about once an hour, and we happened to arrive to the airport about ten minutes before the next flight.  Perfect.  The acid started to hit me as I was going through security, and I had some significant problems removing my shoes.

We did another hit of acid on the plane, booked a suite at the Bellagio after we landed, and arrived at the hotel around 10:30pm.  Things were quite hazy by this time, though, so you might have to give or take a few hours on that estimate.  I took a quick shower, secured some cocaine from my favorite Las Vegas resident, and we hit the clubs.  First was Light.  I had never been to Light before, but we decided to check it out since we were staying at the Bellagio.  Even though I was insanely drunk and high, I was coherent enough to realize that the club sucked and I needed more acid.  We took hit number four, did some blow to compensate, then jumped in a cab bound for Jet at the Mirage.  We had to get bottle service because we were high as kites and couldn’t deal with lines.  I think that we actually split most of our bottle of Grey Goose, but some Persian bitches found their way over to our table and snagged some as well.

I was a dance machine at Jet.  The ladies were loving it.  The lights were pretty much blowing my acid-riddled mind, and I barely even knew what my name was.  Naturally, around 2am, we did our final hit of acid and made our way to Pure at Caesar’s Palace.  Pure is my favorite Las Vegas spot, but it was totally packed, so we had to get bottle service once again to get inside.  I don’t think I drank any of our Grey Goose at Pure because I was way too busy feeling the white curtains around the club.  They felt pretty amazing and the lighting was blowing my mind.  I busted out some really hot dance moves when the DJ played “Make it Rain,” and started in on finishing our blow supply to offset the psychedelics.

We ended up back at our room around 9am.  I thought I was starting to come down when I went to sleep, but when I woke up at 11:30am, I was still pretty high.  By the way, for some reason I thought it was a really good idea to book an extremely expensive suite, but we ended up spending a total of three hours in it.  We made our way to the airport, for our 1pm flight, and I was back at my place in LA by 3pm.  Oh, and I felt amazing.

The moral of this story is that the best way to cure a hangover is a Vegas trip.  My body hates Vegas so much, but my mind loves it.  I’m torn.

What am I doing this weekend?  Nothing exciting at all.  I am working hard on a prototype of a product I will be pitching at Internext next weekend.  Internext is going to be quite a bender for me, so I figured I should probably rest up anyway.

So I had an absoutely amazing time at the XBiz Summer Forum. I was actually planning on filling you in on my experiences as they happened, but I was pretty much wasted for three days straight and unable to produce any type of coherent written thought.

The action really started in the first class section of my flight to Las Vegas, when my savage crew of party animal travelling companions and I were able to literally drink all of the vodka on the plane. If you think I am fucking with coach on the forty-five minute flight to Vegas, you are wrong. In case you are keeping track of time, I arrived in Las Vegas, completely wasted, shortly after noon. Of course, the mandatory Jager shots were consumed in our stretch limo on the way to the Hard Rock Hotel, and once my room was ready (shortly after 2pm), I inaugurated the bathroom by puking for a solid twenty minutes, and then turning my sink into an alcoholic’s wet dream, as shown below:

OK, so the sink is stocked with ice and roughly eighteen Coronas. The hotel is slowly filling up with a who’s who of the adult industry. I’m loaded up with free porn and sponsor schwag that I received at the registration desk. I have a lengthy itinerary of seminars that I will definitely not attend and meetings I will be way too wasted to remember. What do I do next? Throw a beat to the free porn (of course), then iron some clothes and pass out for about half an hour while waiting for my Las Vegas drug dealer to come by with party favors to fuel the rest of my stay.

After getting loaded up with a few eight balls and fifteen hits of e, I went to a dinner at the Bellagio, where I got drunk on expensive wine and snacked on some delicious Ahi Tuna. Being a big deal is a tough job, but someone has to do it.

Tuesday night was relatively low-key. I ended up pretty wasted, but returned to my room around 6am, which is a pretty respectable hour for Las Vegas.

After waking up Wednesday around 11am, I grabbed a Corona and headed towards the cabanas to meet new friends, catch up with old ones, and get really drunk. I was drinking pretty heavily by noon, drunk by two, high by three, drunk again by five, passed out by six, drunk again by eight, high by nine, and then rolling on e by eleven. During this madness, I completely forgot to eat anything. Wednesday night, as you can probably guess, was pretty hazy for me. I was high as hell at a suite party, and then thought it would be a really good idea to smoke some hash in someone’s room. Unfortunately, this turned me into Rip Van Winkle, and I woke up hugging a bidet in the Hard Rock Hotel celebrity suite with a friend asking me if I was overdosing on heroin. Good times.

I was sure that I was getting my second wind around 7am, and tried to compensate for the heavy eyelids given to me by the hash by doing about half an eight ball of cocaine, but I had no luck. I ended up passing out repeatedly in between attempts to move back to my room. I think on Wednesday night, I successfully passed out in the celebrity suite bathroom, on the couch of the celebrity suite, in the hallway of the celebrity suite, on the bed of the celebrity suite, in the second bathroom of the celebrity suite, in the doorway of the celebrity suite, and just outside the door of the celebrity suite, before reaching my room to sleep at around noon. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much trouble moving.

I got a couple hours of shut eye on Thursday afternoon, but I had to rally and start drinking heavily because I had an underwear walkoff to win down by the pool. First place prize was $2,000, and I was completely sure that I would win until I realized that I was going up against a midget. As soon as I saw this fucker, I was just shooting for second place. Obviously, I beat all of the chicks and one $100 for second place.

Thursday night, I got really wasted and then went to a suite party, where I actually ended up doing a ton of business and meeting lots of great people. I thought I was going to end the night at a reasonable hour, but instead ended up heading out to my favorite Las Vegas spot, the Peppermill, around 6am with my friend, and finally passing out on my hotel room floor around 9am. I woke up at 11am feeling excellent.

My favorite part about Las Vegas is the difference between arriving and leaving the city. On Wednesday everyone was super psyched about being in Vegas. I even heard some highly tacky ‘Vegas Baby!’ yells. On Friday, everyone looked like shit, and all I heard were comments along the lines of ‘Fuck Vegas, I need to get out of this place’ and ‘Why would anyone ever come here voluntarily?’

Anyway, I had an awesome experience at XBiz. The show was organized very well, I did a ton of business, had a lot of fun (probably too much), and I was completely worn out on Friday. I am recovered now, and ready to start making some money with new friends and business partners.

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..

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m not the biggest fan of lesbian porn. For some reason I find it really difficult to masturbate to something that doesn’t involve a petite hottie getting slammed by over twelve inches of man meat. And don’t even give me the whole ‘what about lesbian strap on action’ argument because it is not going to work.

The bottom line is that its a big deal when I cum across some solid lesbo porn that I can sit through without having my penis retract. Allow me to share some lesbian porn that I don’t mind…

The following free lesbian porn videos come to you courtesy of my friends over at Lesbian Training, a lesbian porn website that does not suck. You may recall when I dropped some knowledge on you and let you know how you can score interracial porn for only a buck a while back. It’s the same deal on Lesbian Training. You can join for just a buck, so you really have no excuse to check out their members area right now.

Once you navigate over to Lesbian Training, you’ll be overloaded with super hot high-quality lesbian porn videos and pictures, all containing horrible acting which is more than made up for by the fact that all of the chicks on this site are hot as hell. It’s kind of like watching a Lindsay Lohan movie, only on Lesbian Training, you don’t have to imagine anyone naked.

I also like Lesbian Training because the action is pretty hardcore. Lots of anal play and novelty gigantic dildos. Squirting action? Lesbian Training has that too.

Enjoy these free videos, and if you want more, make sure to check out Lesbian Training for more free pictures and videos. I would recommend that you join the site for a buck. Why? Because you cannot afford not to.

Ahh, it’s Memorial Day weekend again, and countless people have made the trek to Vegas to take part in the festivities. Me? I decided to keep the debauchery confined to the greater Los Angeles area for the weekend in order to avoid a lengthy detox/recovery period following the three day weekend.

Last year, I wrote a pretty detailed post which outlined the many ways in which any given Vegas trip sucks balls. This year, I’m way too busy eating weed brownies and drinking a lot to put together anything close to a coherent thought on my blog, so I’ll just point you towards my favorite reality Vegas sex site, Whore Wagon, which should have everything you need to experience Vegas fun from the comfort and safety of your own home.

Check out the video above for some awesome Whore Wagon madness in the middle of the Vegas strip.

While masturbating to surfing around Whore Wagon earlier this afternoon, I got a call from one of my friends who was in Vegas enjoying douchebag heaven A.K.A. the Rehab party at the Hard Rock Hotel. She claimed that a random guy (Persian and most likely wearing a trucker hat with a bandana under it) just gave her four hits of E along with an eightball of blow and invited her to his suite at the Mandalay Bay. Vegas never disappoints.

Enjoy the holiday weekend. I am really busy finishing some Coronas so I can head out to down some sake at a sushi restauraunt and then try to get laid.

Really?  T BAGGR?  One of my friends took this over the weekend and I thought it was way too funny to keep from the world.  What kind of a guy gets this vanity license plate?  How do you drive around and openly tell the the world that you are in the tea bagging scene?

This license plate is on a Subaru, so there is a good chance that this is the work of a homosexual.  I don’t see a rainbow sticker, though, which really throws me off.

Is it a frat guy who got the vanity license plate as a gift a few years back?  Is it a douchebag who loved tea bagging drunk guys in college so much that he decided to take the joke way too far by getting a vanity license plate?

How do you drive up to a job interview advertising that, not only do you tea bag guys on the weekend, but you tea bag so many people that you feel the need to get a vanity license plate to let the world know about your sick (yet funny) hobby?  I may never know.