Anyway, my escapades at this bar were getting to be a bit too much, I would generally bring in a stripper, porn star, or just run of the mill friend. I would sometimes bring in my buddies and we would act like total fools while drinking our ¼ priced bottles (because I am such a good customer). Anyway, the bouncers got a little sick of how well I was treated and that before the end of the night I was generally doing one of the employees in the club and going home with another when it closed.

One night God decided to transpire against me and cast a huge black cloud over my heaven of vagina and alcohol. The night began like usual but this time I was drunk before I even got to the bar. I was with more than one girl so I didn’t bother giving much attention to the girls that worked at the bar. What’s more is that I knew the one that I haven’t had sex with was in an extra bitchy mood that night, so I stayed away. I don’t know the exact point at which I realized my world had ended, but I think it was around the time that the bill arrived. The bill was $1,200 instead of my usual $300 or so. I asked the waitress (let’s call her Jessica) why my bill was so high. Her words will forever reign down in my mind

“Because you fucked every girl here including me and you’re a complete asshole for doing so.”

This was foresight to the fact that I had never realized that the one girl I didn’t sleep with would tell everyone that I had slept with her.  At which point, I guess they whipped out their note pads and started to compare lists. When they realized I had run the same game on every single one of them, all at the same time, under their very own noses, in their very own place of employment, my reign of pussy king was over!

That being said I refused to pay! At this point, a few rather large bouncers (which were obviously monsters compared to my small stature) asked me to pay my bill. Once again I declined and asked to speak to the owner, who I thought was my friend. The owner was, of course ,unavailable. I was then told I would be taken outside to the police if I did not pay. That was a risk I was willing to take in my inebriated state. “Take me outside” I said; at which time the bouncer informed me that if he took me outside he was going to drag me out and “fuck me up.”

So what do I do? I give him the finger and tell him to “fuck me up.” Not so shockingly that’s exactly what he did, FUCKED ME UP! He and his buddies tossed me around like a rag doll inside the club and punted me out of the front doors like I was a football! Now I’m outside bleeding and the pain still doesn’t stop, I’m getting hit from all sides. Surely the cops will break it up! Nope, they joined in and I ended up in handcuffs in the back seat of a cop car. The cops gave me two options: pay my bill and go home or don’t pay my bill and go to jail. They didn’t care that I was 5′8″ tall, 160 lbs, and had just gotten beaten up by a 6′3″ 250 pound monster number one and 6′3″ 250 pound monster number 2 in addition to a few nice shots from the boys in blue themselves. So what did I do?……… I paid the damn bill and signed it the way I sign everything: a scribble. The cop let me out of the cuffs and gave the bill to the bouncer who tossed it on the floor and said it wasn’t my real signature. I was taken down again HARD by the police and handcuffed. It was only after they checked my ID and saw that it was my actually signature that they let me go.

Now fast forward an hour or more later to around 4:00 a.m., (after I went to a different club to nurse my wounds with liquor) My fav bartender (the one who I had never fucked and who started the whole thing) called me to see if I was okay. She expressed her apologies and asked if I wanted to come over. I sensed another setup but as usual I was too drunk and too horny to care. I cabbed it to her house and went inside. She was wearing one of the sexiest outfits I had ever seen and my jaw dropped to the floor. I carried her up to the steps (or maybe she walked and I crawled up due to the alcohol) and took care of business in her hallway before we could even reach the bed. Only later did I find out that she had set the whole thing up so that I wouldn’t couldn’t have sex with her friends anymore, thus keeping me all to herself (yeah right).

I am still waiting for the perfect moment to get her back. Perhaps one day I will share a sex video of her and I while I make her say and do some things that would make even the most professional dirtiest porn star blush. Oh lets not forget when I got to the office the next day to share my story with a coworker. I mentioned to him that my arm and ribs hurt like hell. I lifted up my shirt and to my surprise I had the bruise of a shoe print on my arm and what looked to be several knuckle bruises on my ribs!

The moral of the story, take what you can and who you can but expect that one day it may all come crashing down, and when it does, you may as well just pay your bill unless you’re stupid like me andor have a blog to share the story on.

This is almost a story of the boy who cried wolf but the outcome could have been a lot more dangerous. One particularly hot summer day, Tuna decided to get in and drive a trade-in we had acquired. The trade-in was one of those odd looking Chevrolet SSR convertible trucks, it was new and innovative at the time. Tuna had taken the car around the block and then parked it back in its original spot. I went out to see if I could take it for a spin and Tuna shooed me away. I figured he was on the phone or just having a bad morning so I went back inside.

After about five minutes, I noticed that Tuna was not back in the office so I asked one of the other guys where he was. Dave replied that he had no idea but he would go check on it. He came back a minute later laughing hysterically, saying that Tuna was in the car making faces and screaming. We all figured he was on the phone with his wife or his girlfriend or for that matter both at the same time. Dave and I decided to go out there and make faces back at Tuna. After a little while, we went back inside as it looked like we were only elevating the situation and making Tuna even more upset.

Another few minutes later, we hear a loud banging noise and then glass shattering. Not knowing what it was, and not taking any chances as shootings and explosions have become common at out dealership, we decided to hunker down and lay low. It was at that exact moment that our detail guy ran in and screamed “Tuna just broke the window and is on the concrete, I dont think he is breathing.” Automatically everyone inside assumes the worst: Tuna just got shot! No one wanted to go out there to verify if he did actually get shot for fear that they would be next. As I said earlier, Tuna and I had grown extremely close and without thinking I ran to his aid. When I got to his side I didn’t notice any blood only pools of sweat soaking his shirt. I could not understand what possibly could have happened, or why Tuna was not moving. I decided it was best not to move him, and by this point the police and ambulance had arrived and told me to step back. I don’t know exactly what they did but they got him to wake up instantly. Upon waking up, he yelled the words “Dave, Lizard, I am going to kill you” and then passed right back out.

Dave and I had zero idea what he meant, but being that Tuna was a large guy with a short fuse, I think Dave and I were happy he passed back out…looking back on that, it was probably an evil thought to have. The ambulance whisked Tuna away to the hospital before any other malicious thoughts could creep into our heads! At the hospital we learned that Tuna had suffered from heat stroke and dehydration but that he was okay. When we walked into the room where he was he was sleeping, I decided to wake him up in true LV Lizard fashion…TUNA, WAKE THE **** UP BITCH! and he woke up just like that! When we asked Tuna what happened, all he could say is that when he gets out of the hospital he was going to kick our asses! After five minutes of threats, we learned that Tuna had somehow locked himself in the car. When I initially thought that he shooed me away, he was actually motioning for me to unlock the door from the outside. When he was making faces at Dave, they were faces of helplessness and his motions to Dave were misconstrued as playful instead of disastrous. Tuna’s last hope was to kick the window out with his last ounce of strength, climb out, and hope someone came to his rescue. That was not the last time that Tuna almost died, but it was definitely the closest he had come.

In true LV Lizard fashion, I made fun of him daily for a whole month! That being said, about a month later I was sitting in a Testarossa after just taking it for a drive when Tuna and Dave walked up and held both doors shut with all their strength. I was locked in for what felt like forever, and was drenched in sweat. I felt like I was being cooked inside an oven. The fact that I am a Jew should entitle me to never have to feel that way, but lo and behold here I was in a Ferrari oven. I could not get out and I knew I couldn’t break the window, so here I was stuck. All of my teasing and taunting came right back in my face and I was finally let out of the car to Tuna saying “now you know how it feels” with a huge smile on his face.

Regular plates say the county of residence on the bottom

In Florida (as in most states) car dealers get special license plates. In Florida it says DEALER on the bottom of the plate instead of the county that issues the plate.

I was rolling in South Beach in a Ferrari F430 with the top down feeling like a king.  All of a sudden, a guy runs out to the street, stops me, and says (In front of a huge crowd) “DAMMMMN BOY HOW MANY DRUGS YOU GOTTA DEAL TO GET DEALER ON YO PLATES!”  To this day everytime I am putting on a dealer plate I think of that guy and laugh.

Here’s a play-by-play of my experience trying to vote on election day: I get to the polls at around 9:00 a.m., no doubt still drunk from the night before, or at the very least with a massive hang over and back ache from sleeping on a lazy boy chair with whatever her name was. The line was long to say the least. There was no way in hell I was waiting in it, but there was also no way in hell I was going to come all the way back out to vote later. I was clearly in the wrong place and very obviously stood out like a cotton ball in a sea of color. The voters were clearly not voting for my choice and the line was way too long, so I devised a plan to skip the line.

As I looked around, I saw that the poll workers all had on ID badges attached to lanyards around their necks. I thought PERFECT, my CCW permit is attached to a lanyard in my car and it looks like a government ID!  For those out of the loop, a CCW is a concealed weapons permit. Yes, the lizard carries a gun! So I went to the Bentley and rifled through the mess that has resulted since I basically live out of my car as I am always at someone else’s house. I tossed the CCW around my neck and put on a straight face. I walked to the back of the line and asked a group of people how they were, if they had any questions, and if everything was ok. When they replied, I moved up another ten people and asked another group the same question. I repeated this process several times until I got hit with a question I did not know the answer to, “Am I in the right place?” True to my fashion I told them that they were in fact in the wrong location and would need to go up the road ten miles to the next polling station located on the left hand side. I am sure they are still looking for that polling station as we speak. Call me an asshole if you would like but I find that practical joke a tad funny. Anyway back to the task at hand, cutting the line! I finally made my way to the very front of the line and asked the nice man at the front of the line if he was doing okay and if he had any questions. When I heard the word “NEXT” I made my move. I presented the very ID that was on my neck, signed my form, and went into the voting booth to cast my vote. I walked out of the polling office unnoticed and got into my car with a feeling of great victory! The radio reported the average polling wait was two hours. I got out in 10 minutes.

Yes, I understand it is probably heavily illegal to impersonate a poll worker but guess what……… I DON’T CARE. I didn’t really impersonate so much as made people assume, but that’s splitting hairs. Anyway I made it out in 15 minutes! I feel like I cheated a system that always seems to cheat me and got a good laugh in the process. On top of it, I got to tell my boss that I was sitting in line for 3 hours while I was really relaxing in my bed. ELECTIONS FTW!!!!!!

For the people crying about what I did to the woman by steering her to the wrong polling station, I will say only this………. She 100% deserved for that to happen to her. Her attitude was HORRIBLE and she had an obvious chip on her shoulder towards some of the other people in line, the main person being me. Trust me when I tell you that the woman was no saint and deserved what was coming to her. When you try to gain someones attention by saying “yo white boy, yo white boy” and then follow that up with a question along the likes of “White boy I be in da right place, ain’t I?” You really are not going to get the right answer from me. Everything aside, I really feel I did no wrong. The people who actually believed that a guy who pulled up in a Bentley GTC wearing an Armani suit and Luis Vuitton shoes worked for the polls deserved to be cut in line. Come on, half of them saw the car and every single one of them saw the clothing.

The Transportation

The Suit

The Kicks

You must be thinking “Lizard are you a terrorist? Have you threatened to light your shoes on fire? Have you brought a box cutter on a plane?” NO, I have not done any of those things and I am most certainly not a terrorist (except maybe to women). I love America, in fact I don’t even think I am allowed to leave America do to some incidents in Canada and Mexico. I know that actually makes me seem even more like a terrorist, but let me clarify. I am not a terrorist, I am an alcoholic (which is what makes me so fun in my eyes). That being said, there are two things I hate in life with a passion: the dentist and flying! In order to fly, I need to have a massive amount of pills and an even greater amount of alcohol. If I am not blackout drunk before boarding the plane, there is no way I’m boarding it.

I know what you’re thinking: “Lizard you ride Lambos and Ferraris why not fly on a private jet?” Not a chance, private Jets are scarier smaller than regular planes and I have tried and failed miserably. In fact, my good friend is the president of a very large Fractional Jet ownership company and has invited me on two trips with him in some beautiful jets. The first trip ended with him saying “Don’t do that ever again, you’ll get me fired!” the second and last trip ended with “I can’t believe you did that again, you cant fly with us anymore!”

There was even a time where a client told me he would send a plane for me so we could go to the Bahamas all expenses paid and he sent a twin-engine propeller 310. I refused to go as soon as the plane touched down knowing that one of two things would happen: I would have to get so drunk that I would believe in my heart I could fly the plane and I would bring us down in a blaze of drunken glory OR I would get so drunk that mid-air I would wake up from my passed out state and freak out punching the pilot in the face, going down wondering how I could have been so stupid as to knock the pilot out. Either way the flight would have ended with me dieing and although I have walked out of some near death experiences unscathed, I don’t think the lizard would survive a plane crash.

Needless to say I tried my hardest to get to the perfect level of drunk to board the plane but it didn’t work. I got to a belligerent level and argued with the pilot, tossed my luggage down the runway and told him to fetch. I then called my client and yelled at him for trying to kill me and told him that I never wanted to speak to him again. Three days later my client came to Miami where I was at and bought a 47-foot Fountain Lighting Race boat from me and we blasted off to the Bahamas!

Now that I went off on a total tangent, let me get back to why I was banned from JetBlue. It was 2005 and I wasn’t even 21 yet. I was traveling to LA with two of my friends who were very large, tattooed, muscle bound, young, and wealthy clients of mine. The flight was spur of the moment, and the only flight we could get on was coach three in a row JetBlue. I was smashed between these guys who towered over me. One of the guys I was with who we will call Scott,  is a very wealthy young client of mine whose family started a very prominent business and also owns over 30 clubs and restaurants around the US. Scott loves Jack Daniels so we sat in the airport parking lot downing Jack and stuffing Xanax into our mouths. I did it to calm myself down for the flight at hand, Scott and Mike did it because they were fucking crazy.

Anyway I was finally drunk enough to try and board the flight and got a wonderful Idea, (as you know by now all my wonderful ideas when drunk end in disaster). Scott and Mike were both 6′4″, 300LBs of muscle with tattoos head to toe. I am 5′8″ and Skinny. I decided from the time we boarded the plane to start complaining that I had to sit in between these “giant assholes” and demand to be moved to first class. I yelled, I screamed, I may have even let out a few fake tears.

In my drunken state I felt that no one was listening to me, so in order to be heard I started throwing food. I then poured the mini liquor bottles all over myself, Scott, and Mike and yelled out “look these big mother fuckers are making me spill my drink!” I demanded more mini bottles and the flight attendant said that I was not allowed to have any more liquor. Telling the lizard he cant have alcohol is like poking the incredible hulk with a stick, you just shouldn’t do it.  It sent me into a drunk range during which I started a full-on food fight. Peanuts, Chips, and Pretzels were flying everywhere. It got to the point where Scott and Mike were not having fun anymore and they tried to tie me up with my seat belt. I decided that there wasn’t enough of a mess all around us, so I took all of the leftover food, tossed it at my feet, and started jumping up and down stomping it into bits and pieces

For those of you who have been following along, this post is a continuation of Stephanie and Motivational Juice

The next morning Nick called to explain what had happened. I scared the shit out of her with my gun and she liked me and “didn’t want to move too fast with me.” GREAT I get the party favor to fall in love so she wants to take it slow. Nick also informed me that he had a surprise coming from California for me, a porn star we will call Jersey. Now I was all set to turn the negative into a positive. I thought great, Stephanie loves me, I can at least score a three some out of this. The First moment I met Jersey we clicked. I picked her up from the airport with Stephanie riding shotgun. Had Stephanie not been there, I would have taken Jersey in the back seat of my car in the airport parking lot. From the moment Jersey got into the car I sensed tension with Stephanie, but I didn’t quite realize why. Later that night back at Nick’s house, I sensed that Stephanie did not like me talking to Jersey so I decided to split them up — Jersey on the patio and Stephanie on the couch. I split my time evenly between the two. I sat inside and played around with Stephanie and then I sat outside and played around with Jersey. I decided that Jersey was the one that I wanted and I was going in for the kill when she stopped me and said “I would love to **** you but Stephanie said I can’t and that she really likes you.” So now I’m sitting here with the only loyal porn star on the face of the earth who I am dieing to **** and fifteen feet from me is a porn star so in love that she wants to take it slow with a guy that doesn’t even like her! I decided to drink my problems away and come up with a new plan.

I don’t remember the plan, but what I do remember about that night is when Jersey slapped on Pink Boxing gloves and I got up to let her take a swing. Nick got out the HD cam and started rolling. I permitted her to take a swing thinking she would hit me in the arm and it would be a girly punch. Little did I know she straight out mike Tyson smacked me in the face. My lip immediately started to hemorrhage blood. I didn’t feel much though as alcohol tends to block pain. I am not to sure what happened after that, but I think I decided that after not only striking out with two porn stars but also being punch in the face by one, it was time to call it a night.

The next day we all decided to go bowling. Stephanie brought a date, no doubt to try and make me jealous which would never work…because I didn’t like her, and I straight up don’t care. I was the happiest man on earth, she had a date so I was free to have sex with Jersey. Bowling is a license to drink and act like a moron (my specialties) so that is just what I did. Stephanie’s date was not to happy with the way I was acting and Stephanie was pissed that I was hitting on Jersey. Additionally, Jersey was pissed because she still wasn’t allowed to **** me as Stephanie took her to the bathroom to let her know the rules were still in place. Meanwhile, Nick just sat and watched the saga unfold.

I decided this was going nowhere and there was a cute girl in very short white shorts was bowling next to us. Now when I see an ass I like, I make a little chomp noise with my teeth. When my motivational juice is flowing through my system, I cant help it; I like to bite ass regardless if I know the girl or not. I started to make my way over to introduce myself to the young lady and let her know that I would like to bite her ass. Nick knew instantly what I was about to do and tried to stop me. “She is with like six guys Lizard, don’t be a moron.” I don’t care, I want to bite some ass. Nick knew that there was no stopping me so he begged. The begging did not work and I proceeded to say very loudly CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP I WANT TO BITE SOME ASS.

The guys she was with knew I was talking about her, she knew I was talking about her, the porn stars we were with knew I was talking about her, but nobody did anything about it. We wrapped the night up surprisingly without incident and the next morning Jersey was on her way back to California. I hated Stephanie so much for not letting Jersey have sex with me that we never spoke again. Even today when I go to Nick’s house I still sense tension between us. I am deeply upset when I sit alone thinking I am going to die having been the only man (other than Nick— for good reason) that met Stephanie and did not have sex with her. It is a sad thought for The Lizard to say the least!

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

It started a little over a year and a half ago when I first met Nick. He invited me over to his house to meet with his roommate, a very well-known porn star in Florida that we will call Stephanie. Nick has also coined her the nickname “Party Favor”, as you can pass her around like she is a party favor. The girl LOVES sex. I don’t know a single man that has met her (besides Nick) that hasn’t had sex with her. Bear in mind that it’s not Nick’s fault that he hasn’t had sex with Stephanie; his girlfriend lives with him as well and is best friends with her. If you have ever met Nick’s girlfriend, you would know that having sex with her best friend would be a quick shortcut to getting your dick cut off and thrown in the woods like John Bobbit.

Stephanie really isn’t my type of girl. It is a well known fact that I have not hooked up with a girl without fake boobs unless I was too drunk to realize the boobs were real. Even then, the boobs would have to be large enough to justify my drunken brain thinking they were fake. That being said, Stephanie does not have fake boobs or large boobs, but when a girl has had that much “fun” you have to at least give it run once or twice. That in addition to the peer pressure aspect, everyone else was doing it so why the hell not right?

So I walk into Nick’s house and see two things immediately: Stephanie and beer. My brain leads the way until I get drunk and then The JewC takes over the thinking. So I went to partake in some motivational juice, also known as beer. I think she half expected me to do what ever other guy does in her presence: pounce on her, **** her brains out every which way, and then get dressed and leave.

I think she took the fact I wanted to have a few drinks first as a sign of respect when it was really just a sign of alcoholism. The way I put down beers sheer excellence. If they made drinking a sport I would be like Mario Lemieux from the penguins: the owner, the player, and the coach! Anyway, in the hour I sat and drank with Stephanie I got absolutely plastered.

I did not initially intend to get plastered, I just planned to go to the house, have sex with Stephanie, and then leave. It was Nick’s fault for having beer in the fridge! I had my CCW on me at the time and when I went in for the kill started putting the moves on Stephanie, she felt it and asked what it was. As usual I was a bit too drunk and took her question to mean that she was interested in the weapon. Not realizing that she was actually scared shitless of it I pulled it out, removed the mag, unchambered the round, and handed it to her. Apparently she was terrified while I was too drunk and horny to have noticed.

When I sensed things were going South, I decided to bail out of there. I called Nick and expressed my disappointment, although I am not sure if he could understand my slurs. I know that now, after a year and a half of knowing him, he can understand my slurs just fine, but back then I don’t think he realized what I was capable of. I went home in defeat having been the only man Stephanie had ever turned down in her entire life.

This story is continued here: Stephanie and Beer become Jersey and Bowling

I quickly came up with what I thought was a marvelous idea…Viagra! I had never taken one, nor had the need, but I was told if you take one (and don’t actually need it) you get a hard-on that lasts forever. In my stupid mind, banging 3 girls all night and never losing wood was a sweet idea. I ran and got the Viagra, downed a shot, and got ready to have a wonderful porn star 4-some all night with the help of my magic blue pill.

So here it goes one girl naked holding the video camera, another girl stripping down on the side of my bed, and another girl with her mouth on the JewC aka Jewish Cock. My dick was so sensitive due to the Viagra that I didn’t last more then 20 seconds before the girl shot up with a shocked look on her face and a mouth full of JewCJuice. “Did you just cum?” she mumbled, to which I replied yes I think I did! The other girl hadn’t even gotten naked yet and my night was over. They tried to wake JewC back up, but he wouldn’t wake, he was dead and my spirit was broken.

The girls left to go home and I was left on my couch with a cock that didn’t work. I was actually worried it would never work again! I ordered a pizza and sat to think of how stupid I am. About 30 minutes later, I got in the car and drove to the pizza shop. The second I walked into the shop, the Viagra hit me and I was hard as a rock! I had no idea what to do, so I went about my business and rushed home. My hard-on lasted two and a half hours!

I think that day god was laughing at me. To give me three girls and a dick that didn’t work and then curse me with no girls and a dick that worked better then it ever did was a horrible joke. I have since learned that some men have a very sensitive reaction to Viagra and cannot use it because of that. I wish I had known that beforehand!

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!