Another Bonehead Backstory.

There’s really no rhyme or reason to the order of the Bonehead Back-story theme. There is no timeline, because time doesn’t actually exist…and life is simply a series of events that are conveniently placed in the order of what we perceive as time.

While you chew on that pearl of shit, I should tell you of the night my lovely wife and I walked the red carpet in Las Vegas at the Adult Film Awards.

Oh, trust me – if you knew us like our little circle of trust does – you’d really think nothing of it, we just found it an amusing thing to do at the time – plus we had some time to kill before we went off to see Carrot-top.

It was January 2008 – we were in Las Vegas for a few days of debauchery and it was a Saturday night. The NFL Playoffs were in full swing and it was the night before the Giants took out the Cowboys. Of course we didn’t know the outcome of the game then – although it would have been great if we did, being in Las Vegas and all, but I digress. Plus any chance I get to poke fun at the Cowboys  I’m going to take it.

Ok – back to the porn awards. We have tickets to the 10pm show at The Luxor to see the multi-talented Carrot Top . We figure, it’s Saturday Night, we’re in Vegas, so we were dressed, in our “we think we look cool” clothes – and we’re out at a bar, skipping dinner, watching the games, little wagers here and there, it’s like 8:00pm, plenty of time. So we walk next door to Mandalay Bay and there seems to be something going on – you might even call it a ruckus. Of course we have to check it out.

There’s a long red carpet and miles of velvet rope. Being a couple of New York’s finest assholes, we work our way right up to the front to see what the commotion is all about. It’s the annual AVN Adult Film Awards – the biggest night in the adult film industry. And there’s the Giddy’s, right at the entrance with all kinds of paparazzi, wannabe’s and gawkers. The group of photographers we were in with were really cool – with all sorts of sarcastic observations on the spectacle this was attracting. We were too busy laughing with them however to remember to shoot enough of our own photos, but we did grab enough for posterity.

 

I’ve never been in one place with so much saline , mascara and petroleum jelly, I was growing concerned that all the chemical accoutrements would combine with the high levels of alcohol in my system and cause spontaneous combustion.

Chrissy: “Wouldn’t it be fun to jump on and walk the carpet?”

Me: “Ahh – we’d get caught…”

Chrissy: “Yea…you’re probably right…”

Me: (Spotting a slight break in the crowd as we approach the end of the carpet) “NOW!”

And with one swift move, we were on the carpet – arm in arm – walking along doing the royal family wave. We must have looked like we at least belonged, perhaps we were nominated for catering or something. As we walked along, we looked into the photographers lenses lined along each side of the carpet. They were shooting us as if we were supposed to be there. Score!!

We caught a few comments along the way, along the lines of

“Who the fuck were they?”

“What was she wearing?”

“He’s just one tall drink of water!”

OK – look, it’s my blog and I can embellish whenever I feel like it. Nobody actually asked who we were.

Walking along, waving and having a grand old time we noticed we were approaching the entrance – where the heavy security, and the paparazzi we were just hanging with were, we start our eyes darting left and right for a way to make a graceful, if not unnoticeable exit from the carpet. A break presented itself and we were out.

Swiftly, yet calmly we snaked our way through the crowd once again laughing like a couple of nitrous snorting fools. We get past the end of the carpet and knowing that no one any longer cares, we stop and bask in our moment of pure stupidity. Forgetting it’s nearly 1am back east – we open our cells and start calling our friends to share this latest bout of drunken decision  making. They really didn’t seem to give a shit, most of them were sleeping. Eventually we realized they’d all probably prefer we call tomorrow, or better yet – leave them alone.

Well, that or porn stars.