I have a flight to Cali and need to be at the airport by 5:30

I am flying to LA just for a friend’s birthday (that’s how The Lizard rolls) I always wanted to fly somewhere and then buy my clothes after I land. So what the fuck, why not do it in LA?

Here is how the Lizard Rolls:

• LIMITED LUIS VUITTON DUFFEL
• FERRARI F430
• SOME PERKS (Prescribed for my terrible back)
• ADDY (Prescribed for my terrible ADD)
• ICED OUT JACOB
• ICED OUT CHAIN
• ICED OUT CUSTOM SKULL

Lizards & Lizard Food

Lizards, Lizard Food, & Bling

We all know that The Lizard will NEVER be able to wake up at 5:30 AM, so I’m headed to the strip club, going to drink drink drink, and then catch my flight!

WISH ME LUCK!

P.S. I may fly a random stripper with me to LA…that sounds like a great drunk Lizard Idea!

I will keep y’all updated through TWITTER and of course LVLIZARD.COM

So my buddy who happens to be one of my biggest clients as well as one of the largest rednecks I have ever met calls me last night wondering what I am doing. Now to understand this guy, he calls me ten times a day / night I call him the President of NASCAR, I have sold him countless cars I have even brokered a hooker to drive from Tampa to North Carolina for an over under bet. I scored 1,000 because I got her to do the deed for only 4,000! That being said my client told me to let him talk to all my girls last night five of them to be exact. Well the phone cut off on me and the girls were upset they did not get to talk to the president of NASCAR.

I hopped on the phone and texted my buddy Peter and asked him if he wanted to play a great joke on some women. Peter was up for the challenge, but we could not figure out who he could say he was. I thought Leo DiCaprio but Peter said Josh Hartnett. I figure he has a crush on Josh and that’s why he picked him but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, I changed his name in my phone from Peter to Josh Hartnett and set me phone in-between the pack of women and I went outside. A minute later, the girls are yelling to me that my phone is ringing. I said who is it and one of the girls says “OMG Josh Hartnett, like THE josh Hartnett?” I yelled “Pick it up Pick it up!”

Peter was on his A Game! I guess he had googled Josh Hartnett and knew everything abut the dude because out of all the girls that talked to him, one of them was asking question upon question and Peter had all the right answers. Even so the girl was still 90% that who she was talking to was Josh and 10% that it was total bullshit. Even so, she cornered me in the bathroom and begged me for “Josh’s” number. Just so you know when I say cornered, I mean pinned me against the wall half choking me with my tie and ramming her tongue down my throat while some how mumbling the words “give me Josh’s number.”

When we went downstairs and the girl saw the Baby Blue AKA Smurf Blue AKA Silverlake Blue Bentley GTC, it was pretty much game over. I decided I needed to take the lie to the next level. We get to the club and I see a really good friend of mine we will call Scott. He is 40 and has already had two heart attacks, that’s how much the dude parties. He is covered from head to toe with tattoos, about 6′5″ and made of muscle. Literally MADE OF MONEY, spends it like it’s grown on trees! His father started a major corporation; they own a ton of nightclubs and bars on top of that. That being said, he decided to buy the bar ten bottles of Cristal, 4 magnum sized bottles of Goose and of course a bottle of Jack just for himself to chug around the club. It was GAME OVER. Scott loves me because I make sure to pack his tables with women and act just as out of control as him!

We had the tables packed and I forgot about my girl for the time being. She 100% did not forget about Josh or me. She had made her way through the crowd to talk to me. I had told Scott the Josh story and he played along asking her what she thought of Josh and telling her that we had all been friends for a while. She ate it all up! Now I have a great agreement with the bathroom attendant at this particular club. I have been tipping him well for years so he lets me bring in chicks on a regular basis and locks the door for me regardless of how many people are waiting in line. Tonight was no exception and I made her prove to me just how much she wanted “Josh’s” Number. BOY DID SHE PROVE IT! That being said, I went back to the VIP tables only to pull a straight lizard on Scott’s best friend’s brother’s bodyguard’s girlfriend. The dude almost killed me, so I decided to hightail it out of there and left my whole crew in the process.

I Bentley pimped it to one of the best strip clubs known to man solo but the Josh girl was blowing up my phone wondering where I was. She jumped up to the strip club for some more fun. Anyway the story is getting a little long so we will leave it at this: it’s 9:09AM now and I left the strip club at 7:30 am after being there for a total of four hours. The strip club was EPIC as usual but that’s a whole new post if I get around to it. Josh’s girl was a total freak at the club, even crazier at the strip club and I owe it all to my boy Peter! As of this day it is the biggest lie I have ever had a success with. I don’t know how much further I can go with my outlandish stories to women after this one!

THANKS PETER, I OWE YOU!

John tried to defend his choice of transmission by saying that it was “for his wife”. I then told him to go fuck himself because I wasn’t going to participate in his homo erotic fantasies of beating little Jews up, driving in tiptronic Porsches, and carrying around a man-bag. Instead, I told him that he should learn to drive stick like a real man. He hung up on me and fifteen minutes later he walked through the dealership doors, picked up my computer monitor, slammed it on the floor, and said next time it’s your face, now get me a fucking Porsche and walked out.

I called John an hour later and said we should make a compromise. If he wants to get a tiptronic and be a woman he should even it out by buying a turbo. He agreed and told me to find the car and find it fucking fast. I already have it John, I said, I drove it over to the dealership feeling like half a woman but then I realized I didn’t have a man bag so I am only a quarter woman. FUCK YOU JEW he yelled, bring it to me I’m at a strip club that we will call “Gold Platinum Titties”. So I drop the Porsche outside of Gold Platinum Titties because that’s what he told me to do, “put it in the parking lot and go back to your Jew dealership!” OKAY FAG, the car is in the parking lot, enjoy it.

Three hours later after the dealership was already closed, John called me demanding that I “open up the fucking doors or I will murder your children!” I don’t have children but that’s they way he is, FREEKING NUTS. A few minutes later, John comes flying into the garage, gets out of the car, and falls over PISS DRUNK with white powder covering the entire black leather interior. I’d like to take the high road and say that it was flour or powdered sugar, but unfortunately I know all to well that John doesn’t bake any cakes while driving his exotic cars.

There was a woman in his car absolutely butt naked with no clothes anywhere in site! When I asked where her clothes were, John gave me one of the oddest stories ever. Apparently John and this naked woman (a stripper from the club) were engaging in some “in-car activities”. Sex, drinking, coke…anyway John hit a few parked cars and then claims that the police were chasing him so he tossed the strippers clothes out the window to distract the police. He even claimed that her big ass high heels dented the shit out of a cop car. So now here I am sitting there with John, a naked Stripper, enough cocaine to make Escobar blush, and a brand new screwed up Porsche that was supposedly purchased as a gift for his wife. To make matters worse, John was now transferring all his stuff from the Porsche to a red Ferrari 360 Modena we had sitting there. He demanded the keys and I did as I was told, gave him the fucking keys. He took a stack of cash ($10,000) from his man-bag tossed it in my face and said “fix my fucking Porsche and change the license plates, keep the change little asshole.”

He rode off into the sunset with his naked friend and I came out unscathed with some cash in my pocket. I called him a few hours later and asked how his wife liked the Ferrari and the naked stripper. As usual he threatened to kill me, my family, my friends and my dog, but he invited me out to dinner over the weekend because I did such a good job selling him two cars in one day.

I knew something far more odd or life altering would happen at dinner, but I just didn’t quite know what it would be. That was the fun of John, you always knew something bad was going to happen but never knew exactly what…either way you can catch that story at the beginning of next week, because I’ve got a special story in store for Valentine’s Day.