Dita Von Teese is currently performing her second sold out series of artistic burlesque performances at the Crazy Horse strip club in Paris, France. Every time I have seen Dita Von Teese perform, she has done something different. Whether she is rocking a glittering horse, a sudsy martini glass, portable fairy forest, or a bondage rope spiderweb, Dita earns her crown all over again every time she hits the stage.

She is also hard at work on a book of tips for glamour-queens-in-training who wish to emulate her classic beautiful burlesque look. I for one will be thrilled when various chicks who hope to model start emulating Dita Von Teese again, instead of thinking that any random assortment of tattoos makes them alt and sexy. I love well-considered original skin art, but I just don’t think counterculture and inked are synonymous. The reason we have women like Dita Von Teese in the mix on BlueBlood.com is that I feel she easily exemplifies being self-actualized, independent, and marching to the beat of one’s own drummer. If someone had told me sixteen years ago that some day I’d be turning away models because I felt like they got their tattoos for conformist reasons, I would have thought that could never happen. C’est la vie.

Sadly, I must also confess that I have had Motley Crue lyrics going through my head, ever since I first heard about Dita Von Teese performing at Crazy Horse in Paris France.

Motley Crue Girls Girls Girls Lyrics

Friday night and I need a fight
My motorcycle and a switchblade knife
Handful of grease in my hair feels right
But what I need to make me tight are

Girls, Girls, Girls
Long legs and burgundy lips
Girls,
Dancin’ down on Sunset Strip
Girls
Red lips, fingertips

Trick or treat-sweet to eat
On Halloween and New Year’s Eve
Yankee girls ya just can’t beat
But they’re the best when they’re off their feet

Girls, Girls, Girls
At the Dollhouse in Ft. Lauderdale
Girls, Girls. Girls
Rocking in Atlanta at Tattletails
Girls, Girls, Girls
Raising Hell at the 7th Veil Have you read the news
In the Soho Tribune
Ya know she did me
Well then she broke my heart

I’m such a good good boy
I just need e new toy
I tell ya what, girl
Dance for me, I’ll keep you overemployed
Just tell me a story
You know the one I mean

Crazy Horse, Paris, France
Forget the names, remember romance
I got the photos, a menage a trois
Musta broke those Frenchies laws with those

Girls, Girls. Girls
Body Shop. Marble Arch
Girls, Girls, Girls
Tropicana’s where I lost my heart

Girls, Girls, Girls

My pal editrix Abby Ehmann always knows where the good party is. (Often she is the one throwing it.) A few years back, the Blue Blood crew exhibited at the late lamented BondCon event in Las Vegas. (BondCon was purchased by the fine folks at Kink, so hopefully they will relaunch it.) The BondCon show was held overlapping the same time as the Adult Entertainment Expo, which Forrest Black and I have occasionally attended over the years to do press coverage on happenings in the adult video world. Immediately prior to these two shows was the Internext show, which SpookyCash sent us to. (SpookyCash is far and away the leading affiliate program in its niche and facilitates people with popular sites being able to make some dough promoting naughty sites from Blue Blood and friends.)

So anyway, after a couple weeks in Vegas, I was all tuckered out, but Abby Ehmann told me that Paul Nathan was hosting a suite party and I really needed to go. This coming weekend, on Saturday August 30 and Sunday August 31, Paul Nathan will be emceeing Perry Mann’s Strippers & Hustlers Ball in Las Vegas. Perry Mann has been throwing the Exotic Erotic Ball in San Francisco for nearly three decades now and this month his crew is headed for Vegas. The weekend’s festivities include performances from Scooter & Lavelle, Drummer KC, D’Amato, all-female Motley Crue cover band Girls Girls Girls, Gen XX (a sort of stripped down electronica version of The Genitorturers), and Gilby Clarke. (Everyone always mentions that Gilby Clarke was in Guns n’ Roses, but I played his Kill for Thrills Commercial Suicide CD endlessly when it came out and recommend picking that up to all.) Of course, a Strippers & Hustlers Ball would not be complete without stripping competitions, so they will be having those too. This may be tricky as Vegas venues can be bitchy about nudity, but I’m sure they’ve got a plan to make it hot no matter what. The Ball web site claims they are planning the “world’s largest girl-on-girl pillow fight” just for the occasion. So you’ll be seeing one for the record books, if you head out to Vegas for Labor Day Weekend.

I’ve written about the aforementioned Paul Nathan-hosted Vegas suite party before, so I won’t do a full report. There was one anecdote which comes up a lot socially, but which I did not tell in print previously. The very talented and always impressively-costumed (and fully-functional) Tara Emory was at the party, dressed as a cheerleader. Tara can do the entertaining party trick of pissing through a hard-on into her own mouth. Naturally, I took a number of snapshots of this. As Tara was sitting on the posh bathroom counter in front of a mirror to perform said party trick, the images show brief flashes of me and my pals Bradical and Scar 13 reflected in the mirror. Looking carefully, one notices that Bradical has his hands on his face like McCauley Culkin in Home Alone. Not that anyone has teased him about this. Well, maybe a little.

I had not previously ever thought of Labor Day as a really big holiday, just a fashion season demarcation. It seems like a ton of people are taking trips for it this year though. If you are in Las Vegas for Labor Day Weekend, you just might need to dress like a stripper or hustler and get yourself over to The Orleans Arena in Las Vegas. The event hotline for Perry Mann’s Strippers & Hustlers Ball is the extremely awesome (702)-804-STRIP. I appreciate it when someone even takes care of the details down to their phone number.

And don’t forget to stop wearing white shoes by next week. Don’t want to be gauche.

The other day I posted a Trash Factory at Devil’s Point fashion show photo gallery and my Fashion Show in the Champagne Room write-up of the evening. Now I’d like to share a video of the night shot by a gent named Sean Strauss and pointed out to me by the very cool Portland photographer Circle 23.

The vid features interviews with designer Rachel Face and model London Lunoux. You will see in the interview with Rachel that she definitely uses the word stripper bunches when talking about this project. (Etiquette note to the boys in the audience: You are still safer in cities which are not Portland, if you go with the word dancer, rather than stripper.) You can spot me shooting the aforementioned photo gallery in the video and see Forrest Black’s back over by our video camera. And, of course, you can see some of the stripping dance routines, as the models show off the clothes.

Yes, I know that Rachel Face is called Rachael Reckless in the video and you all can ask Voltaire yourself why she is called another name. Sometimes strippers will dance under different names at different clubs. Sometimes models will use different names on different sites. Sometimes the punk rock nickname someone is using in 2001 or 2002 might evolve into something else by 2008, as they get new tattoos. This is all normal. Like the bard says, a Briar Rose by any other name will still smell as sweet.

Note to RIAA: I have no idea whether the songs used are licensed and, although Blue Blood did shoot some video that night, this is all Sean Strauss and hosted by YouTube, so all credit goes to him.

I have had a lot of fun in Portland before and I’ve shot a bunch in Portland before. So I was down for a trip, a few weeks ago, when long-time Blue Blood hottie Rachel Face called me up and said that she’d been designing disposable clothing made out of trash and she was having a fashion show she’d love me and Forrest Black to come up and do some press coverage on. She had messaged me online about shooting some new sets for BlueBlood.com and I often enjoy shooting trips more if there is an event to shoot. Rachel invited me and Forrest Black to stay at her place, but we figured she would be crazed getting ready for her fashion show, so we stayed at EroticBPM HQ instead.

It’s not that Rachel didn’t tell me excitedly about how there would be all these strippers there. Hot girls who dance in Los Angeles usually prefer to be called dancers, but Portland cuties throw the word strippers around all the time. Yet I hadn’t quite grasped the nature of the venue. The Trash Factory fashion show was at a club called Devil’s Point. Portland peeps are probably starting to smirk now, as it occurs to them what I did not know. Never having been to Devil’s Point, I had assumed the Trash Factory fashion show venue would be a nightclub with maybe some go-go dancers or maybe a place full nude dancers went to get a beer . . . when not actually, ya know, nude.

Humorously, I had not realized it was an actual strip club. Doh! Nonetheless, the Devil’s Point people were helpful and nice and the photography did turn out awesome, if I do say so myself. Check the photos out here and check the club out when in Portland.

You all may have noticed the banners for the movie Devil’s Den in rotation this week. It stars Kelly Hu, Ken Foree and Devon Sawa and is described by Amazon as, “Two small time drug-dealers cross paths with a female-assassin, a monster hunter, a Japanese swordsman and even the Devil himself at a gentlemen’s club housing murderous she-demons.” The slogan for Devil’s Den is “The final battle for the souls of mankind will be fought in a bar full of possessed strippers.” This is not only a deeply awesome slogan, but it reminded me that I had a great article by Sara X to post for your reading pleasure in honor of Devil’s Den. –Amelia G

I’m not a stripper. Really, I’m not. To say that I am a stripper would be to imply that I actually take my clothes off when I dance, which I don’t. In fact, to do so and be caught would result in a ticket for solicitation, a hefty fine, court fees, and a prostitution charge on my permanent record. So why do people, both men and women, pay enough to see me dance that I can live in the lifestyle to which I’ve become accustomed? I’ve spent the past year and a half wondering that myself.

What I do is known around here as “go-go”. When I hear that term I think bouffant hairdos, psychadelic colors, white vinyl knee-high boots and maybe even a little James Bond. In larger cities, go-go dancers are girls who are paid a flat rate to dance in a club, usually on a box, usually scantily clad. From what I’ve heard, the city is so against any sort of gentleman’s club that the clubs were termed “go-go bar” in order to seem more innocuous. The laws here are strict- it’s not just stripping that’s illegal. These laws are enforced by a peculiarly reclusive branch of the Alcoholic Beverage Control that is known simply as “Vice”. The type of bar you work in can be determined by how well they follow these rules. In some ways, it would appear that a go-go bar isn’t so different from any other strip club after all.

If one or two of the laws are strictly adhered to, you work in an okay bar. Someone usually tips off the owners when Vice is coming in. Vice is usually fat, sweaty, covered in bad tattoos, wearing a wrinkled rayon shirt, doesn’t tip, and virtuallly indistinguishable from at least half of the other patrons.

If all of the laws are strictly adhered to, you work in a real dump. The city wants very badly to be rid of the place so that someone else can come along and give them free drugs. Oops I mean adhere to their laws.

If none of the laws are even remotely adhered to, then your boss is filling the nasal cavities of and providing private parties for every branch of government that could possibly find beef with him at any point. Extra points if your boss, his close friends or relatives never go to jail. Even if they’ve probably killed someone. In the parking lot.

I’ve never been able to procure a copy of the actual laws outlining The Do’s and Don’ts of Virginia Go-Go, right now I don’t have to worry about it (I’ve already danced at a retirement party for some city official this year but hey, city officials can’t been seen in that sort of establishment so why not open it just for them for the afternoon and provide dancers free of charge?!). From what I have gathered working in six area bars it’s like this:

1.) Thou shalt not strip. In fact, if thou art seen taking off even a coverup on the stage area, thou shalt be smited with a fine of $500 or more, a date in court, court fees, lawyer fees, and a charge on thy permanent record. If thy club chooses to make thee pay their fees as well, thou art fucked.

2.) Thou shalt not mimic sexual acts while dancing. We recommend polka lessons or that Michael Flatley “Riverdance”.

3.) Thou shalt not touch thy genitalia, breasts, posterior, or any article of clothing while in the stage area. This includes spanking thyself. To do so will result in neverending fees. Nevermind that if thy bottoms are seen riding up thine ass, thou shalt be smited with aforementioned ticket, fees, etc. We call this “damned if you do, damned if you don’t”.

4.) Thou shalt wear a coverup at all times while not on the stage area. Coverups must be opaque and cover from neck to mid-thigh.

5.) Thou shalt wear full tops and full bottoms at all times. We’re not too sure about the guidelines for the top as long as there’s no nipple showing, or the front of thy bottoms as long as there is no vagina showing, but as far as the rear of the bottoms go, thou shalt not intimate that thou hast an asscrack, nor shalt thou show the bottom of thy buttcheeks. This means bootyshorts are illegal. Whoever made up the “must be at least four inches across” rule was lying to thee. Putting a safety pin or a permanent cinch in the back of thy bottoms to prevent “the diaper look” is illegal. Basically We wanteth thou to wear granny panties. In order to be legal, thou must use school glue or two-sided garment tape to make thy bottoms stick to thy butt. No, We are not joking.

6.) Thou shalt not bring props onto the stage. We do not know why. But We shall still fine thee for it.

7.) Thou shalt not dance with another dancer, touch another dancer, share the stage area with another dancer, and ESPECIALLY not imitate sex acts with another dancer. To do so shall result in making an unholy amount of money, instant death, and/or fines that will take all of your money whilst making thee wish thou were dead.

8.) Thou shalt not sit idle on the stage. This is to discourage thee from talking to thy customers. To do so is to solicit prostitution. Somehow. And thou can bet thine ass We shall fine thee mightily for it.

9.) Thou shalt not at any time even when on the floor area touch a customer. To do so is to be giving a lapdance. Fines, fines, more fines. Then We shall shut down thy bar.

Oh. Also, thou shalt not be touched by a customer. It doesn’t matter if thou didn’t solicit his or her touch. We shall still write thee a ticket for solicitation.

10.) Thou shalt always remember the line between the stage and the customers, known as the “tip rail”. Thou shalt not cross this line with any part of thy body, even a foot, at any time. To do so wouldst make thou a prostitute, and We shall mark you as such for the rest of thy born days. Forget ever having a goverment job.

Any time you violate these laws, you are pulled offstage, a Polaroid is taken of you, your offending garment (where applicable) and you are written a citation. That’s not even going into the health code laws. Those begin with “Thou shalt never be barefoot in thy bar”, cover the requisite “Thou shalt not put bodily fluids in anything served in thy bar”, continuing on forever, reiterating some ABC laws, ending with “Thou shalt not bring animals into thy bar”. I was wondering who would even violate the last one, up until management found me guilty of being late to get onstage due to excessive hormones and baby talk directed at someone’s tiny fluffy five-week old kitten in the dressing room.

Okay, Flavor Flav is officially off my TiVo queue. For those of you who haven’t been following his post-hip-hop reality television career, here is a quick recap. Flav appeared on the TV show The Surreal Life. I’ve never seen it, but apparently they picked oddball assortments of celebs such as Vince Neil and Gary Coleman and the not-dead dude from Milli Vanilli and did stuff like send them shopping at my local grocery store. Leggy blonde bombshell Brigitte Nielsen appeared on the show the same season as Flav and they had a relationship, at least while the cameras were on, and this spawned a spin-off show called Strange Love, which I’ve only seen clips of on Flav’s newest venture Flavor of Love.

Full Disclosure here: I usually limit my reality show viewing habits to The Apprentice, but I watched the entire first season of Flavor of Love (and the first couple of America’s Next Top Model so long as I’m letting it all hang out.) The basic conceit in that eighteen or twenty chicks go to a house where Flav supposedly lives alone and lonely but for his extremely competent butler and maybe whoever drives the stretch limo SUV. They compete for his love because all he wants is to really connect with someone real. The episode where Nielsen visits shows how ludicrously more chemistry he has with her than any of the contestants. At the end of the first season, he chose the game-playing girl he supposedly hadn’t banged yet, but who had given him some non-penetrative threesome shower action. Apparently he then banged her, didn’t hit it off with her, and they parted ways, except for a contractually obligated and tepid season reunion.

The first season of the Flavor Flav-produced Flavor of Love show, I was kinda buying the story that he was looking for love in a singularly modern and peculiar way, but doing it genuinely. This season, it comes across way more like he is just a typical womanizer in love with being in love but no way willing to be with one woman in a real give and take relationship, no matter how many times he proclaims his love and deep emotional connection.

But tonight took the fucking cake. (Actually, I think the show first ran a couple days ago, but VH1 was coming through sort of static-riddled, so my TiVo only just picked it up again.) This season, Flav supposedly chose the girls himself and he has some kinda fucked up but interesting and egalitarian taste in women. So I expected to be even more entertained. Now Flav likes slutty women and clearly prefers girls who are down for getting busy with him and one or more other girls at the same time.

So he gets this one girl nicknamed Toastee and this other one nicknamed Nibblz (because they have to blur out her nipples in most shots) to curl up and spend the night with him. Toastee says she doesn’t like to share, but mentions casually to some other girls later that she got the impression Nibblz gave Flavor Flav some manual satisfaction. Now, if you took a general sampling of the female population, a decent number of them would give a member of a seminal group like Public Enemy a hand job without a lot of provocation. Narrow that sampling down to a chick competing to be his girlfriend or wife on a reality show and I kind of think less of any of them who wouldn’t take the opportunity.

So, because this is reality TV and has to have conflict above and beyond even interweb drama, Nibblz swears to the other girls that she didn’t jack Flav off and blows a total gasket and goes and tells Flav . . . wait for it . . . not that Toastee is spreading lies about their sexual canoodling . . . nope, (probably because Toastee knows a jerk-off when she hears one) instead, Nibblz tells Flav that Toastee is a pornstar and can be seen naked online on Barely Legal and on “VHS”. Who the fuck makes movies for VHS any more anyway? I mean, I have a player, but I don’t even know if it works at this point. Mind you, Nibblz has already told Flav that she has modeled nude and has a stripper pole in her living room and the implication is that her day job is dancing.

So Flav goes and asks Toastee if she specifically has done “boy/girl porn” and she says she has modeled and modeled nude, but, no way, no how has she ever done anything she would consider “boy/girl porn”. So, to cut a story longer than I intended a bit shorter, Toastee says she wants to quit the show and Flav tells her that she should stay, so long as she is telling the truth. Flavor Flav finds a solo nude shot of Toastee, tries to humiliate her by holding it up in front of all the contestants, and refuses to let her speak before leaving. He might not have personally liked that specific image. They blurred it out, so I don’t know. But he totally lied to that Toastee girl. He told her unequivocally that he would keep her on for at least another episode so long as she was telling the truth and it turned out she was telling the truth and he still booted her. If he doesn’t like wild girls who like to get naked, he needed to choose a whole different line-up of women to compete.

So, in conclusion, I generally applaud anyone with a strong and unabashed personal style. When my homeboy Lange and I met Flavor Flav in Vegas, he was gracious and pleasant. I know that a lot of what happens on reality shows is more scripted than real. But, as Flav gets top producer credit, real or scripted, I hold him responsible for presenting himself as a double standard-having, sexist liar. And, because I thought he was cool, I’m disappointed. Flavor Flav’s got problems of his own. And he needs to fix himself before he is ready for a real relationship with an honest and real, threesome-loving, fast food-eating, non-materialistic, and non-jealous woman.