Showing posts with label George Michael. Show all posts
Showing posts with label George Michael. Show all posts

CineVegas Film Festival...George Michael in Concert! Busted in Vegas, not!



As you head in from the desert, the picturesque rugged mountains that rim the valley fall out of view, and ahead the city of Las Vegas sits like a sparkling gem in the dazzling mid-day sun.



On the strip there is a buzz in the air.



Tourists gobble up the eye-candy as they snap photos furiously - all-the-while - caught up in a sort-of feeding frenzy.



Quaint gondolas glide by in front of the Venetian and a stunning water display delights in front of the Bellagio.

As snatches of French, German & Chinese fall on the ears, it's evident glitzy "Sin City" is a captivating concept to cultures around the globe.



Although I am in town to catch the CineVegas Film Festival - which has a satellite base at the Palms Casino - I'm inclined to go with the flo and explore the Boulevard and mix in with the crowd.



At MGM, I catch the tail end of the Lion Show.



In their confined habitat on the main floor of the Casino, the cubs act like playful puppies with their trainer. But when the mic picks up their mighty roar from within the walled enclosure, it is obvious why they are the King of the Jungle.



At MGM, gyrating images of George Michael flash on wide screens throughout the establishment exalting his concert slated for June 21st.



Expect a sell-out, thanks to old wham, fans



At Caesars Palace, the Big 3 - Sir Elton (John), Cher (Legendary), and Bette (Bugle girl) - were being promoted in anticipation of their grand entrances into the spotlight in coming weeks.



After the curtains fall on each - I wonder, will the pop icons sneak into one another's suites in their nighties and snack on delectable goodies - as they reminisce about the old days 'til the crack of dawn?



For this time of year, the sun was intense, and sent the mercury soaring to 107 most days.

Adidas and a handful of other smart shopkeepers installed "misters" outside on the street - so their customers could slip out of the intense rays of the big burn and breath a sight of relief - if only for a second or two.

Surprisingly, I chose to window-shop a bit among the throngs that were gathering by the minute in the exotic desert oasis.

I passed on a T-shirt that said:

"Property of Las Vegas County Jail".

After all, who wants to tempt fate?

Instead, I purchased one that showed off my torso, which brazenly shouted out on its face:

"Busted in Vegas".

A dollar sign etched on the front with a red circle and a slash running through it said it all.

Not!

I'm too practical when with money these days.

What little of it, I have, of course.

The humorous tank top elicited a number of smiles and chuckles throughout the day as I sauntered this way 'n that in the electric tourist mecca.

When I chatted up a handful of hotel employees, they were surprised to hear that the annual CineVegas Vegas Film Festival was opening later that day.

There's wasn't much in the way of local publicity advertising the event, I guess.

Many were clueless about the fact dozens of dazzling celebrities would be jetting in for the event.

Well - Anjelica Huston, James Caan, and Sam Rockwell - for starters; after all, they were attending a red-carpet premiere in honor of their acting chops.

Dennis Hopper - who became a sort-of goodwill Ambassador for the Festival - hosted a party at TAO on his birthday.

The trendy night spot was being promoted as a religious nightclub experience!

Actually, many of the Casinos were going for a younger market over the summer months.

MGM brazenly touts its club "Tabu" on the outside of the entertainment complex with sexually-implicit ads of a young stud offering up a cherry to a sexy lady-of-the-night in a reclining position.





A visually-appealing advert for the spa and pool played up the erotic image, too, with a sizzling publicity still of a lifeguard with perfect pecs and chiseled abs beckoning guests in.

Save my life any day, Bud!

On the evening I galloped into town, I got all gussied up and took in a red-carpet event for the premiere of - "The Rocker" - which kicked off the high-profile CineVegas Film Festival.

Last word from the organizers before I left Los Angeles was that "Get Smart" would be a sell out.

Wonder why?

But, the festival staff managed to squeeze me in, to my delight!

An eclectic mix of shorts films, documentaries, and locally produced features were being screened at the annual festival - in addition to - a handful of special celluloid boutique masterpieces.

I'll trot around the Vegas landscape until I'm ready to wilt away.

But, I'll be sure to sip a cocktail, play the slots, and loll by the pool at the Sahara for a few hours, if only to pep me up a bit before the round of party-hopping starts later this evening.

At a minimum, I should be able to not only rustle up a dollop of gossip, but kick up my heels a little, too.



Skoal!





George Michael...the Los Angeles tour! Wham! Bang! Thank you ma'am...

George Michael cruises the loo...


One morning a radio station was chatting with a call-in listener who lucked out and won tickets for a George Michael concert.

"How long have you been a fan?" the high-energy disc jockey asked with infectious enthusiasm.

"Oh, since George was whamming."

Ha! That conjured up curious images - and memories - as well.

Like, how about, "Wham Bam, thank you Ma'am?"

Yes, I know, that was a lyric from a David Bowie song.

I was referring to his private life, if you get the gist of my meaning!

I laughed to myself when I recalled the incident a few years ago when Mr. Michael (an oddity of terms, isn't it?) got caught with his - um - pants down in a men's rest room across the street from the prestigious Beverly Hills Hotel.

I thought it was admirable that George fessed up - quick as a wink - without any long drawn-out excuses.

But, with a top-notch lawyer he could have gotten off - so to speak - in my estimation.

Think about it.

Allegedly, he was standing at the urinal stroking his Johnson - no, not "Don Johnson" - his co**, peck** - whatever.

Without warning (gosh - the unexpected surprise could have sent him off half-co**ed - don't 'ya think?) an undercover agent apparently strolled in and spied the pop star in the act of - er - exposing himself in a crude intimate manner.

Or, however you want to posture it.

But, there weren't any other witnesses to shake a stick at.

Essentially, it was George Michael's word against that of the undercover dick (there's something erotic - yet foreboding-sounding - about that term, isn't there?) who proceeded to frisk him (betcha he was turned on by that) and haul his tight little a** to the slammer.

If you recall, straight off, George pleaded no contest.

Like the Michael Jackson scenario, was it possible that there was something so distinctive about his pen**, that he was sure the copper could identify it in open court, if necessary?

Is that why he begged off?

Personally, I figure that a high-powered attorney with some street smarts under his belt, could have put forth a compelling argument that George wasn't actually "playing" with his organ at all (yeah, all the innuendos are hilarious in this scenario) but - rather - shaking it a tad to cast off a few last dew drops of pi** from the end of it.

Ladies, it's a guy thing!

Ah, maybe that's it.

He didn't want to air his dirty underwear - um - laundry in public!

Remember what Oscar Wilde once said,

"Scandal is gossip made tedious by morality"

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