I loathe, I loathe, I loathe my Calendar Girl.

Jessica's back! She's the Frontiers inLA Calendar Girl for The Village Variety Pack show every other Monday @ The Village in Hollywood. Sure hookers leave assprints on cars there but the tickets are cheap enough that you can try out the local color afterwards.


Remember to get your tickets for The Mismatch Game (also available above on the Village link) Nov 7th & 8th. I'll Jessica'll see ya there!

My Letter to AnnaLynne (a.k.a Cutlet Shame!)

Sweetness,
Vamp though you may, you don't have the titties for that dress.

How do I know?
Well babe- I can tell that what's poking out.
It is a silicone cutlet. Oh the shame of an errant cutlet. I'm not advocating anything crazy like eating but maybe a few eLBee's will help ya fill it out on your own?
And listen. I've been in this business for like months longer than you so If you're gonna have inappropriate things sticking out in your photos, go all out (see below, dearheart)

Love Willam.

Profiles in Greatness: Popper Claus

Name: Popper Claus
Known Alias(es): Dirty Santa, Poppers the Clown, Cap'n Combover.


Popper Claus is a stripper's best friend/worst enemy. He tips but fails to remove his hand in a timely fashion, usually waiting for the dancer to assist, all while taking a gigantic whiff of poppers.

For you folks who don't know what 'poppers' are, it's an inhalant that heightens desires. Like if you want to make out with someone, you want to eat their face off; if you want to get fucked, you'll shove a floor lamp in yourself. Get it? Even if you still don't get it, knowing some of the brand names for this product are Jungle Juice or Greedy Pig kind of cements one's thoughts on it.

Popper Claus is a stealth individual, silently hunting for new boxmeat to prey upon. Newbies are slow to rebuff the rough amyl-nitrate burned hands from many years of spilled poppers. A permanent red mark on his lip from popper burn is covered by a scraggly beard and mustache. It's like poor people Retin-A. Chemicals scald, queens.
You can be certain a few empty bottles lie on his carmats. There's just enough room to wedge a driver in amongst all the trash (and yes-that is his actual car).

As much as this feels mocking in tone, I have to say that Popper Claus is a barometer for cool in this town. Want to find the hottest gogo boys in town? Just look for Popper Clause. I applaud him for not giving a shit that the beautiful, entitled crowd of WeHo shun his very presence. You know it's been a good night when his combover is sloppily sticking to his chin and his zipper is down for no good reason. So next time you're at a club, ask the cashier to count out twenty $1 bills and go on...let your inner Popper Claus out to lurk.