Stunts On An Illegal Mexican Worker Big Rig, The Fancy Schmancy Hotel and Prince Better Not Copy My Shit.

Got called down to the hotel to meet up with some old friends down at The Big Fancy Schmancy Hotel that I never heard of but probably should have in The Lower East Side of Manhattan. I couldn't find a ride but I noticed a big rig was going that way and the driver looked like a nice enough fella.

"Mind if I bum a ride doawntown? I can't see a town car anywhere." I said.

"Well, the inside is all filled up with mexicans so I don't think so... sorry dude."

"No prob, I'll just stand here on the side step, it's not like we're gonna be driving a billion miles an hour."

I hopped up onto the sidestep of the big rig and with a tug and a chug, he was off down the road. The wind blew in my hair and It felt like I was in some kind of parade or something because driving down Parke Avenue people were waving and yelling my name. Being the attention starved douchebag I am, I wasn't about to let this opportunity go wasted so I climbed up on the big fender and began doing some pretty modest stunts with a clowny, comical, Don Knotts, kinda stupid, fake fear, buffoonery type slant which everybody liked except the driver whose view I was obviously blocking.

"Look buddy, quit with the dog and pony show, I don't need no undue attention here with all the illegal beaners and what not. If ya wanna ride you'll have to climb in here with the Mexicans.

I climbed in through the window and got back in the back compartment. He wasn't joking, he had a whole slew of illegal Mexicans in there. These weren't just the average kind of illegal type, these were the type that had tons of missing teeth, like you just plucked them off a Mexican farm deep in the interior of Mexico, the super duper dark kind with yellow where the whites of their eyes should be. None of them spoke any english but all of them were smiling and laughing probably amused that there was now some crazy bearded white dude in a yellow suit sitting amongst them. Many of them were giving me the thumbs up sign and basically trying to be my friend just in case I had some job for them perhaps.

"Dude, you guys look just like all those bad guys in that movie "The Three Amigos" I love that movie."

"Amigos yes!" The nearly toothless dude replied as his one remaining tooth swung back and forth hanging by a pink thread of his black gums.

The truck came to a stop and a bunch of other dirty and disheveled dudes piled into the back. Things were getting fucking crowded.

"Holy shit, is that you Merkley? a voice to my left asked.

"Holy crap, what are you doing here? I haven't see you since high school." I replied.

I couldn't for the life of me remember the dude's name, but he and his friends were all guys I remember from high school hanging out smoking by the tennis courts, they were basically kinda geek stoners so it wasn't really that surprising seeing them in the immigrant workers scene.

"What the fuck have you been up to?" I asked.

"Oh you know, the daily grind, painting houses, doing plumbing, hauling shit out to the dump -- I should have paid more attention in school." He said as he and all his friends nodded in agreement. "What the sam hill are YOU doing?"

"Well, after high school, I went to college and graduated with a phd in Illegal immigration and so now I am officially an Illegal Mexican immigrant, I couldn't be happier."

My shitty joke was met with thunderous laughter from everybody but the driver.

"Hey comedian, we have arrived at your Fancy Schmancy hotel, now get the fuck out." he said once again launching another round of heavy laughter from all the workers and high school douchebag dudes.

I hopped out of the big dirty truck hoping beyond all hope that some of my fancy schmancy friends were looking. Nothing is cooler than getting dropped off at the fancy schmancy by a truckload of fucking 4 foot Inca farmers and a bunch of drop out stoners . It was sooo Cheech and Chong.

The hotel could have been made from a remodeled parking structure because in it, there were no stairs, just ramps going up to the various levels. It was pretty clear that the place was less a hotel and more a permanent residency for eccentric stars. Everywhere I went I saw interesting artists and people who succeeded in making themselves into heroes of the general population. I finally found Gwen's room and knocked on the door. When she came to the door, her hair was bright red, as if she was copying Lucille Ball when she'd get all gussied up for an awards show or something.

"Whoa dude, RED. You look like Lucy." I said.

"Whoa dude, FRIZZY, you need some product in your hair and fast." she replied.

"Tell that to Gene Wilder, he's my new hair stylist."

Holy shit I'm witty.

She showed me around her New york digs and I said hi to a bunch of people we both know. Her place was quite a maze, I could never figure out where I came from or where I was going. The place was fairly poorly decorated, too much traditional crap, not nearly enough humor and the glitz was too J-Lo bling-blingy, I have to admit I was a little disappointed with her choices and I blamed it on the fact that we haven't had any quality time to hang out since she got married. She needs me around or her style starts slipping. She listens to fags too much. Fags don't know how to not be faggy. Things were pretty faggy.

Speaking of faggy, she pointed me to Prince's Apartment:

"Dude, you should go over and say hi to Prince, He lives right over there." she said.

"He won't remember me, come with me."

"I can't I got some shit to do --- oh yeah, did I tell you how your brother was all weird when I met him?"

"No, what did he do?"

"Well we were standing there posing for a typical photo when he reaches over and dips me and FRENCH kisses me"

"Are you serious? That's either really rad or really gross."

"Mostly gross." she said.

"Not my fault," I said. "you shouldn't dress like such a slut."

"Ha Ha, go talk to Prince." she said.

Even though she pointed me in the right direction I soon became disoriented due to the twisty, parking lot type structure, the whole place was designed without doors instead opting for the types of hallway turns they put in public bathrooms to obscure view without having to need doors. Problem was, there was really no way of knowing where you were entering until you were already in the "private" space. It all seemed very new age to me and I was surprised that so many super famous people had signed up for such and "open door" way of living, then again, they were all living with each other, it wasn't like those immigrant workers were living here. Suddenly I wished I had invited some of them along. You know, because I'm a dick.

Lots of blue robots were milling about so I knew I was getting closer to Prince's place. Thing is, I could tell they weren't really even robots but instead just dudes wearing some really uncomfortable styrofoam suit type things.

"How may I help you" asked one of the weird robots in a surprisingly friendly tone.

I was standing in the middle of a large room that looked designed to be some kind of private entertaining area in Prince's home, I felt only a little odd that I hadn't entered through any traditional front door and didn't even really know where I was but I know not to act completely lost.

"Where is the little fucker? I have the birdseed he wanted.

"Umm, I don't know, but chances are he's in the kitchen one floor up."

I walked up the long ramp and came into a big room that looked like it was designed to resemble an old slave's kitchen only on a much larger, much much more expensive scale. The center was a giant brick barbeque type thing built up as the center hearth. There was a gigantic black dude scraping the blackened grease off the grill, I looked around, there were other employees milling about when suddenly about three feet to my left, a little dude in a yellow robe and pajamas popped his head out of the dish washer or oven and startled the fuck out of me.

"Whhell sweet Jesus -- hot damn -- lawd almighty -- weee hoooo."

It was Prince and he was holding pan with a bunch of bacon in it.

"Ain't you one stylish muthafucka!" He said to me doing a very nearly perfect Little richard impersonation, with his hair up in a doo rag.

He was giving himself a compliment by complimenting me as we were both wearing yellow jackets with pajamas, it was quite a coincidence indeed, but Prince was right, my pajamas were cooler and my yellow jacket was much more yellow.

"Everybody, we are taking pictures, get your asses down here. Paris! Paris, come down, we're doing pictures with --- what's your name again?"

"Merkley."

"We're taking pictures with Merkley."

I looked around for my camera and put my hand on it, I didn't know Prince knew I was a photographer, maybe Gwen told him or maybe he was reading my blog or something. I wasn't really in the mood to do a photo shoot because I like it when things are my idea instead of somebody else's because then suddenly it feels like work.

In no time flat, there were 25 people all around us, all jockeying for position to be next to Prince. It became obvious to me that he didn't mean that I was going to be taking the pictures but rather that he was taking pictures for his own purposes.

"Get a picture of me'n Merkles in our matching get ups" He said.

Paris Hilton was over yonder looking totally fake and stupid like she always does and I made sure to avoid any eye contact for fear that I'd have to talk to her. Three minutes of photos and everyone dispersed including Prince. I still had the bag of bird seed he wanted.

"Where should I put this bird seed?" I asked one of the blue robot dudes.

"Better go up and put it on his bed, that's the only place he'll be sure to find it."

It took me ten minutes wandering through the huge condo to finally find his bedroom. It was as retardedly over the top as you might imagine with waterfalls and a dance floor and a bed made out of all kinds of animal horns with a big fur bedspread. Not wanting to go in, I tossed the birdseed onto his bed, thought about taking a picture of his room, decided against it because it would be rude and trekked downstairs and all over his big place til I found a little comfortable yellow room witha bar and filled with old jazz musicians, where I sat down and took a nap.

I woke up with no shoes on, there were tons of shoes all over the place so I tried a bunch of them on and either they didn't fit just right or I couldn't find the matching pair, this always happens to me.

I left with two incredibly expensive mismatched shoes and no socks. I liked the mismatched thing.

Who took my shoes though? Probably Prince. He better not copy me.

In my head on my way home I designed a cool looking motorcycle with a perfectly round transparent gas tank.