So I wanted to go see the heiress for myself. Everyone knows she’s my bitch. There was supposed to be a party on the strip between Margaritaville and O’Shea’s, but by the time we got there the fire marshall had shut it down. The afterparty was at Pure, so we went across the street and waited for awhile, but no luck there either.Â
 Pure is just crap. They put a lot of time, money and effort into attracting stars (I use the term liberally – Mr Belding has had a few feature nights), but in the end, it’s just another lame, overpriced shithole for people that come from the midwest (or L.A.) and want to feel like they “partied like rock stars”. Rock stars don’t party like these bitches. I doubt they sit around drinking Smirnoff Ice or get excited when a 50 cent song comes on. Even if you can name one that does, that fag (Aaron Carter? Mr Belding? Kevin Federline?) wasn’t who the term was created for.
On the upside, I got a great midget picture at O’Shea’s:
