honey, this ain't no westin...

over the weekend, i had to go to long beach to cover a work event (the US bartender's guild competition sounds a lot more exciting than it is, trust me), and my dear friend E tagged along as photographer/moral support. she may have also been on the lookout for some hot babes cutting off people's ties and dancing on a bar wearing a vest and cowboy boots, but that's just coyote ugly, and an unrealistic representation of what bartenders have to offer. bartenders have feelings too. they're not all walking STD's!
anywaaaay, E and i decided to turn a simple work outing into an all-out adventure, wherein we would get a hotel room, party the night away, and check out long beach's swankiest lesbian bar, executive suite. i'd heard that it was pretty awesome, so we packed up the 'cedes (i don't know if anyone has ever abbreviated mercedes like that, but it's my blog and i do what i want, so shut yo mouth and stop sippin on the haterade, yo!) and headed south to california's crown jewel, long beach.

as E and i walked through the beautiful lobby at the westin (where the USBG event was) we longingly dreamt about the hotel's luxurious rooms with those incredibly comfy beds, but we kept walking out the door, determined to stay near the bar so we could stumble across the street in the middle of the night. we decided to find the bar first, then pick a hotel and let the partying begin! luckily, there were plenty of seedy motels near the bar to choose from, but we instantly fell in love with one shithole, the queen city motel. we admired her balconies and stone's-throw distance to the bar, so we pulled into the parking lot with thoughts of the westin banished from our minds.

we walked in to the lobby, praying that there would be a vacancy, and we were in luck! the nice man at the front desk had the perfect room for us! as we took the scariest elevator in the world (seriously, i think someone was murdered in there, and the murderous a-hole just decided to cover up the blood with dark paint and weird black mirror things) to the third floor, we couldn't have been more excited. after all, we were on vacation in long beach!

as we opened the door and took in the room's splendor, it was like coming home after spending a long time away... if you're jeffrey dahmer (we even had a mini fridge that would hold at least three heads and maybe even a couple of feet. gotta keep those leftovers preserved!). granted, the room was reasonably clean, but it had a definite air of creepiness to it, and i was unnerved by the lamp shade that was still wrapped in plastic (did the old one have to be thrown away because it was splattered with blood and various bodily fluids like mucus and diarrhea? was it shredded by a mask-wearing man with a machete and a serious case of crazy?).

we decided to pop open the bottle of sparkling (sparkleize!!!!) wine (only the good shit for two classy ladies like us) we'd bought and enjoy the view from the balcony while we sipped our crunk juice. as we admired a pigeon gracefully soaring over the cracked asphalt of the empty lot next door, our reverie was interrupted by our neighbor coming out onto his balcony for a cigarette. "hey," he said. "hi," we mumbled. obviously, i wanted nothing to do with this pimply-faced 20 year-old douchebag, so i immediately turned my back to him and focused my attention on E. that'll teach that fucker to try to talk to me. who does he think he is???

within minutes, our neighbor was joined by two more ugly little monkey-boys, which, clearly, did not make me happy. as E went inside to pick up her ringing phone, douchebag #2 spied our fancy-schmancy "champagne" and said to me, "hey, can i get some of that?" terrified that this heathen was actually speaking to me directly and asking for some of my hard-earned booze, i panicked. "sorry, bro," i said. ok. i seriously don't think i have ever called anyone "bro" in my life. like, what the mother-freaking-shit-on-a-stick-poop-bitch-damn-hell was i thinking? aren't there better circumstances under which one ought to test drive a new word? i could have called E "bro," or i could have practiced in the mirror or something, but nooooooooo - rachel morgan has to go and throw around a word like "bro" to a strange DB #2.

as soon as the word escaped my lips, i knew i'd made a mistake. "what did you say?" demanded DB #2, leaning toward me with a shocked look on his face. "oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit," i thought. is it not ok to call people "bro" unless you're surfing? does "bro" mean something insulting in long beachese??? i mumbled, "i said, 'sorry bro??? you know, like, 'hey bro?'" "ooooh," he said, and my body flooded with relief (that makes it sound like i peed my pants, which i definitely did not, but i very well could have. i was scurred). "my name is brown," he explained, "and i thought you knew my name!" "oh," i squeaked, pushing E into the room ahead of me as i bolted towards the safety of the serial killer room, shutting and locking the balcony door behind me. PHEW!

happy to be back inside, E and i decided to settle down and watch some good ol' fashioned TV. E grabbed the remote and began to flip through the channels. suddenly, my eyes were assaulted. nanoseconds before, E had flipped from some weird movie in spanish to an extreme and graphic closeup of a woman being penetrated. with a penis. repeatedly. quickly. yes, she was having sex. now, i'm no spring chicken, and i've stayed in my fair share of reeeaaallly crappy motels (cheyanne, wyoming takes the cake, SW). however, i have never been in a shithole that has free porn. you usually gotta pay for the good stuff, and here it was - free, and on my TV! i typically detest porn and start some long-winded feminist rant whenever it's on (except for pterodactyl porn. do yourself a favor and check it out.), but there's nothing i love more than a bargain, and free porn is one hell of a bargain.

a few hours later (and after checking the porn to "catch up on the plot" several times), E and i were ready to hit executive suite. we were primped and we were pumped, so we headed down the block to the bar. as we headed toward its open, welcoming, rainbow-bedazzled door, i had a revalation: i had been there before! i turned to E and said, "E, i've been here before...." i looked around and continued, "yeah - i fell right there!" (a few months ago i went to party in long beach with CK, KB and SL....i was running to get in the cab... wearing heels... fell... watched all my friends laugh at me without making a move to help me up.... good times!).

what went on inside involved a lot of drinking, a lot of shit-talking, a lot of pushing each other into people to dance with, but by the end of the night, we were both ready to go home. here are some final highlights:

  • the only way E or i would have found true love at executive suite is if one of the girls' massive girth caused her to develop planetary orbit and we were forced to spend the rest of our lives spinning around these beasts like a satelite circling the earth.

  • another reaons E and i weren't likely to have luck in love in long beach? girls there end sentences in a preposition. i kid you not. i even heard one girl say, "where do i pay at?" UGH!

  • executive suite is also home to literally, a hot tranny mess. now, i've seen my fair share of trannies, and even some hot trannies, but i have never seen a more appropriate representation of a hot tranny mess. chrisitan, eat your heart out.

all in all, our adventure was a sucess. i mean, there was free porn, so what's not to love?

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