Hey District 13, Check Your Mailbox.

When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold.

Oh, Central Expressway. I heart you so.

Vote RYAN: He Drive Fast, Tie Huge Bows

Clever, Mr. Ryan... If I had 16 opportunities over the last 10 years to snap a few glamour shots for my campaign while I was being pulled over by a cop after traveling an average of 30 MPH over the speed limit, soon to be followed by my asinine declaration of innocence as you did...
"I'm innocent until proven guilty. If I felt like I was doing something wrong, I would have paid the tickets."
Then maybe I really am qualified to weasel Dallas out of its re-fucking-diculous deficit, a descriptor one might also use to refer to the bows you put in your daughters' hair for these staged photos... the likes of which they will be snorting coke off of in their late teens/early twenties, wishing their childhood had been filled with memories other than their father selecting his "power suspenders" of the day, then rolling around in a vat of cash.

But, to be fair, rolling around in piles of cash did work for Bobby Tilton... and at this point, beggars can't be choosers in this fair city... so show me where to park the getaway Lambo, Brint-Brint, and we'll re-build this city on much more than late 80's rock & roll.

Now, if you could just show me where exactly it is we go to vote... you know... that government building... where you go... when you vote... in all those elections you participated in... with that stellar voting record of yours... when you gave a shit about the community... the place where you bubble in your vote with pencil... not pen... the large building with the signs VOTE HERE outside... that place you never actually went to pay your tickets... that building that has frequently processed your arrest warrants based on your unpaid speeding tickets... you know... where we VOTE?! I swear to God I'm going to vote for you... just as long as my sweet-ass million dollar tax corporation, whose job is to steal every possible penny it can from the government in tax dollars for those large corporations you common folk hate... those same taxes we steal for those companies that you subsequently end up paying for in your own individual taxes... that, Brint Ryan, is the only reason I could possibly think of that might get in the way of me showing up to vote for you on May 9th.

Bitch gotta eat, you know?

Debauchery Isn't Recession-Proof

The rumor mill, she's a churnin.

Heard a few interesting things over the weekend about a few of our beloved sanctuaries o' fornication, Suite & Ghost Bar.

Apparently, Suite has some sort of new investor/ownership as Giese makes his move toward the ventures he originally set out to tackle in this hallowed city of Dallas. The original plan included Giese & Co's continued involvement in the day-to-day operations of the club.

However, rumors have recently surfaced surrounding facts that the new partner in this venture has seen face time a few years ago on the show How to Catch a Predator. And based on the number of underage dirty pirate hookers that jiggle their goods on the stripper poles each week, this investment was one that has likely piqued much more than his interest. Lame jokes aside, Giese is supposedly pulling his crew back from any association with the new ownership - and from the looks of the newly launched Suite web presence/shittiest website I have ever seen/my 4 year-old niece could throw-up on a keyboard with Dreamweaver open & create something better, it seem these rumors may be true.

And in other news that no intelligent person should give a shit about, Ghost Bar is rumored to be closing soon. The hundreds of drunk screams from $500 table service-mooching skanks that echo throughout Uptown every weekend evening as I try to pass out/fall asleep... beg to differ.

Feel free to let me know that my info is from shitty sources in the comments section below. I'm making a task reminder in Outlook now to completely ignore you.