Thursday, November 26, 2009

As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, well near death, I realize this place is no four star resort (and I only stay four star)

Friends. Companions. Satisfied Customers. I am back. Yes, Dave Brandice. Some of you may have been thinking, “Is he dead?” or “what happened to that amazing piece of human, did he buy an island and disappear or something”...

Clémence Poésy. “Davey, buy me an island and I will do whatever you want whenever you want, and I mean anything”. That’s how it all began. I ran into a client of mine, Clémence, at the Wynn late one night after The Killers concert. I did some work on The Killer’s tour manager’s wife, so I always get the best seats. I wouldn’t be caught dead at a concert unless I had the absolute best seats in the damn place. Wouldn’t. Be. Caught. Dead. Anyways, after the show I was feeling a bit randy too say the least, how do you expect a guy to feel after eating MDMA and drinking Jack through a TWO hour set from The Killers. Anyways, as I said, was feeling randy so headed over to The Wynn in my stretch limo, only way to fucking travel in Vegas if you ask me. Craps table. Fucking bee-line over there. Craps table = money and pussy. Should be called Money and Pussy rather than Craps. Nothing crappy at the craps table, except for the fucking fly over state folks who show up with a five hundred bill and try to make back all the money they spent last year on the big switch to Direct Tv so now they can finally watch who gives a fuck that they always hear everyone talking about at the local I don’t give a cunt. I digress. Craps table. I start playing, when all of a sudden I feel some soft lips graze my right ear lobe. I turn to find Clémence Poésy. She is a French model who also calls herself an “actress”. After starting on the stage as a child, Poésy had dramatic education, and is active on both film and television since 1999, including some English-language productions. Outside of her home country, she is perhaps best known for playing Fleur Delacour in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (2005) and Chloë in In Bruges (2008). She is also well known for her amazing and groundbreaking fellatio skills. In 2004 I did work on her cheek bones, tits, and toes.


**Side note: That’s right, I gave her a foot facelift. Potential clients, and returning customers, take a look at your feet. Many women are getting, and often loving, cosmetic improvements on their feet. “Toe cleavage” is now being mentioned in cosmetic surgery hotspots like Florida, New York and California with the same sense of awe and reverence once given to the latest diet.”


So I’m throwing craps with this magnificent sex beast on my arm. I am on cloud nine. I am Vegas! Move the fuck over Sinatra, there’s a new cat in town. “Davey, buy me an island and I will do whatever you want whenever you want, and I mean anything”. And like that we are on a jet. I haven’t even purchased an island yet but we are in the air and headed the fuck somewhere. I get on the line with my Jew accountant/real estate advisor/ pharmaceutical drug dealer Arthur Zezzerberg. He is on call 24/7. I did his daughter’s nose job for her 14th birthday. What an angel that soon to be cum depository is. Eyes like her Mother, and now nose like Paris Hilton. I tell Arthur, I need to buy an island right now, not now, but like ten minutes ago. He tells me I’m in luck, his other client Nic Cage is looking to SELL SELL SELL. Guess he’s fucking broke, which is crazy cause that guy is the tits! He is in five of my top ten movies.

DAVE BRANDICE’S TOP TEN MOVIES:

1. Con Air (Cage Flick)

2. Breast Men

3. A Very Brady Sequel

4. National Treasure (Cage Flick)

5. Face/Off (Cage Flick / Innovative look at plastic surgery)

6. Ghost Rider (Cage Flick)

7. Striptease

8. Knowing (Cage Flick)

9. Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure

10. Snatch (just the title, the movie sucks, can’t understand a fucking word anyone is saying)

If you recall in May of 2006, Nic bought a 40-acre-plus island in the Bahamas that had been on the market for $3 million. The property, located near an island owned by Faith Hill and Tim McGraw, is about 85 miles southeast of Nassau and is part of the Exuma archipelago of some 365 islands in the southern Bahamas. “Get me that fucking island Arthur”. Hang up the phone and get back to Clémence. She’s hungry so I ask the stewardess to make Clem a sandwich or something. We fuck, and by the time we are through there is a fresh sandwich waiting for Clem, and a bottle of SPARKING water for me. I don’t drink tap. I. Don’t. Drink. Tap. My iPhone rings. “It’s all yours! Nic is thrilled! The place is ready to go and I got him to leave you a signed headshot (like I don't already have one, did work on his stylist... tummy tuck). Put me on with your pilot and I’ll give him the coordinates”.


A few hours later and we land at my new island. It’s fucking gorgeous. We land in the backyard of my new mansion. Before I can stick myself in Clem, the private jet is already gone. I have no cell phone service. Right now, I don’t give a shit. Sure Cage left the Internet password or something in the giant mansion. Wrong. Place is completely gutted. Clem and I explore the grounds. Then, BAM! I’m out cold.


I wake up in the master bedroom of my mansion, tied to the bed frame with Clem tied up next to me. Renegade pirates surround us. Disgusting hairy men with guns and shit stain skin complexions. They explain… Nic has been renting the place out to them for the past 3 months. We are now there hostages. The next months are all blur. In and out of sleep. I lost 50lbs, and I barely weighed anything to fucking begin with. Clem was used to surviving on nothing, so she was looking great. I was on the brink of death. I felt it, and I thought am I never going to cut again? Am I never going to perfect another imperfection? Will I never drink champagne poolside at a four star hotel? Will I never fuck whatever I want when I want? I was fading, fast. Everything turned white. Then, I heard a familiar voice. I thought I was dreaming. Next thing I know, I am being hauled onto a helicopter in the arms of Nic Cage! Nic Cage saved my life! Clem was already buckled in and ready to go. The helicopter was stocked with crackers and diet coke…. He’s broke. He begged me to not to go to the press with this whole ordeal. We cut a deal, I would cut him and that would be the end of it. You can see his new look in theaters now in The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans. I did his hair line, eyes, cheeks, arms, calves, buttocks, and neck. Put me RIGHT back in the limelight. My phone is ringing off the hook, all the stars want me to do some work on them… and I will. I fucking will. Feels good to be back.


With that, I am off to Cheadle’s house to celebrate Thanksgiving. Lisa always makes a hell of a Turkey. Clem and I are bringing the stuffing and MDMA. Oh and get this, we invited a certain someone who has no one to spend the holiday with, or no money for that matter…



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