Poutine Talk

Over exuberant Fans cause Aviva LasVegas to collide with a tree!

Greetings avivalasvegas readers and welcome to this weeks issue of Poutine Talk. Well. there is a lot going on out there that you should all be aware of, and don't forget: you read it here first. For one, the philosopher's conference in Vegas, for those of you who might have missed it, please be sure to check out: http://www.nytimes.com/2001/03/13/national/13VEGA.html.

I tried to make it there, but somehow these pie in the sky philosophers refuse to recognize Poutine Talk as the 21st Century stroke of philosophical brilliance that it so is. I will have to review this snub with my publicist, and plan our strategy for next year's convention accordingly.

Other than that, it's business as usual. I had a particularly delightful weekend, dressing up, dining out with friends, and drinking Bloody Caesar's to excess. At one point, I thought I was recognized, by a guy on the street standing in line to get into a strip club with his buddies. As I was walking by with my friends in my anti-fashion fashion outfit: fishnets, Steve Madden platforms and a Nicola Fan dress, I heard one of them call out "Viva Las Vegas."

"Aviva Las Vegas?" I asked. My tipsy mind was thinking "They know me, they love me...all over the world. Paris, Vegas, Ohio. Yes darlings, I love you too"

I then sauntered over and said, "How did you know I am Aviva Las Vegas?" The gang of guys looked at me uncomprehendingly. "Have you seen my e-zine?"

Of course, the Retired Whore was right behind me, in like a dirty shirt, twirling her hair and smiling, looking ravishing in a brand new pair of pants, Prada shoes and a Betsey Johnson dress.

They looked at us uncomprehendingly, and explained that they had heard my friends call me, and simply were commenting on my name.

I, of course, told them about the website, and I must say I am amazed I remembered our address. Those were good drinks. "Triple W. Dot.avivalasvegas Dot chom," I told them, slurring my words. "Don't forget." And Retired Whore and I turned and walked away. As I was waving goodbye to the guys, looking behind me as I walked away, I slammed right into a tree. Whatever ounce of credibility I had was destroyed, which was slim to none to begin with at that point.

So...what is the point of this little story? Why should you care about what happens to Aviva Las Vegas? Well, really. That is not the point. There is no point, goddammit. This is a weekly column, and the webmistress is a brutal taskmaster and forced me to write it. If by any chance any of you boys outside that strip bar happen to stumble on this column, please drop up a line and let me know how the strip show was. Our readers want to know, and so do we.

Ta-ta.

Stay beautiful.

Signing off for Poutine Talk once again,

Aviva Las Vegas.

Contact Poutine Talk at 5a7@avivalasvegas.com. Make sure to put Poutine Talk in the subject line.

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