Taco Tuesday

Posted: December 6, 2011 in Uncategorized

Barney’s by 10am? Not acceptable. I walk in at noon and no one is here. My manager isn’t around and when I ask someone what they want me to do they reply, “Nothing, we just want you HERE!” Things continue to go super fantastic when they tell me I can’t smoke in the store so I leave and take a taxi down to the West Village. I have two pints at Dublin, a hotdog at Cowgirl, and then another pint at Dublin. I meet this girl named Taiwan at Tortilla Flats, have three shots of Patron, two margaritas, and one bite of a taco. I walk down Washington into TriBeCa, steal a bike and ride down to Battery Park and then leave the bike, find a deli, brown bag it and walk over to the bull. I stop at the bull and drink my beer and the tourists don’t recognize me because I’m wearing my new aviators.

After two more drinks I’m thrown out of a random Irish pub on Pearle Street for either some girl that was hitting on me and asking to join me in the bathroom OR because I through my pint across the bar in a dramatic gesture. Did I mention it was only 5 o’clock? Could be related to both…

Good night, rock and roll!
Mickey

Mickey’s Maxim photo shoot

Posted: November 29, 2011 in Uncategorized

(NOTE: The following was submitted by Mickey’s Publicist)

Monday, November 28th 2011 Mickey was scheduled to be part of a photo shoot with Maxim magazine. The idea was to have several “Maxim” girls pose with Mickey. The shoot did not go as planned and was over in one hour. Below is a running diary of the events.

00:01 Mickey arrives wearing a white T-shirt, ripped jeans, motorcycle boots, and oversized aviators.

00:03 Darla, the girl running the shoot asks Mickey to put out his Camel cigarette. Mickey shrugs and continues smoking.

00:05 Two of the “Maxim” girls bring copies of “BLOOD: The New Red” over for Mickey to autograph. The girls are topless so Mickey also signs their breasts (despite not being asked). This frustrates Darla who brings over sanitizer to wipe of the girls then brings over an ashtray and waits for Mickey to put out his Camel.

00:10 Darla calls over Mickey. He removes his pants. Darla informs Mickey that it is not that type of photo shoot. Mickey shrugs puts his pants back on and walks over near the girls. Fantoni, the photographer, snaps two photos and then asks Mickey to remove his aviators. Mickey’s manager discusses this with Fantoni and it is decided the removal will not be necessary. Mickey calls for “five”, goes behind a screen and pops a Vicodin.

00:15 Back on set there is an issue with the lighting so everyone takes another five and Mickey finds a window to open (on the 10th floor) so he can smoke a Camel. Below on the street a group of girls spot Mickey in the window and begin screaming his name. Mickey closes the window and walks back to the set where the issue is no longer lighting, but rather how to have the girls not be overpowered by Mickey. Watching from the side are the twins from the new vampire series so Mickey approaches and then they disappear.

00:39 Waiting on Mickey.

00:40 Mickey is cleaning his aviators when he arrives with the girls at his side. He is smoking a fresh Camel and cleaning his aviators with his T-shirt.

00:47 Darla directs Mickey to crouch as the girls surround him. Mickey becomes agitated, stands up and openly takes two more Vicodin. Mickey discusses with his manager.

00:55 Mickey’s manager approaches Darla and explains that Mickey has an exclusive with Esquire and won’t be able to participate in the Maxim spread due to “legal stuff dude!”

00:56 Mickey autographs a copy of his book for Darla and hands it to her. “You can keep that one, it’s rock and roll babe!”

Mickey is the star of the new novel “BLOOD: The New Red”. For more information go to http://www.silverthought.com/blood/. Follow author David S. Grant on Twitter: @david_s_grant

Movie Shoot

Posted: November 21, 2011 in Uncategorized

Movie shoot last weekend is all I can say. Big budget, well not too big-I did have to hold my own umbrella. I was wearing black motorcycle boots, black spandex, a leather jacket, and oversized aviators. My scene? Maybe more of a cameo shot. I’m on the corner of 42nd and Seventh Avenue looking up when a reporter approaches me and I say “Dude, he’s everywhere!” It’s okay to assume because it’s true: I Nailed It!

So after nailing my scene I go to the tent, grab an “everything” bagel and my ten thousand dollar check. Not bad for one hour of work. A famous actress (first name Amber) looks over my shoulder sees my check and asks who I am. I turn to face her and she says, “Oh, Sorry Mickey!” I grab a scarf from a nearby box of props and wrap it around her neck. This is definitely to be continued. I light a Camel and leave.

Mickey, the ex-model-turned-ex-porn-star-turned-model, is the narrator of the new novel, “BLOOD: The New Red” (author David S. Grant). To read an excerpt and reserve a copy today go to http://www.silverthought.com/blood/. Twitter: @david_s_grant

So two hours prior I get off a plane from Arizona where I just spent 28 days, uh, rehabbing and my manager lets me know that “BLOOD: The New Red” is out and available for Pre-Order. Given the lies from the previous book, “Corporate Porn”, I assume the worst. Still, my manager wanted to throw a party. Cool, let’s do it! My manager told me A&E and TMZ were fighting over the rights to host the party. I was bummed FX wasn’t showing interest, but then I became distracted once I heard Coldplay may show up. The location was a secret only to be tweeted minutes prior. When I heard the party was in two hours I became anxious: how was I to find the perfect pair of aviators in two hours? My manager calmed me by saying, “Mickey, it’s okay, Ryan Seacrest has declined.” This was calming.

After several hours I arrived at the party.

Across a bar in TriBeCa is David S. Grant, the author of “BLOOD: The New Red”, the book that is about me PLUS a lot of lies; although, I haven’t read it so I’m not sure what is real and what is not. Also, I take a lot of medications so it’s possible I don’t know my own reality. I look away, of course, he is staring at me. I am wearing dark (VERY DARK) aviators so he has no idea I see him. I turn and walk the other way.

TMZ won the bidding war and have set up several cameras. My manager positions them to get my good sides and then asks me to take off my glasses for a moment. There is a gasp when people see my eyes. “Your eyes, they are so…Blue?” I get this a lot. Given my prescriptions a lot of people just assume my natural eye color is red, blood red. My manager pulls me over into a corner. I put my aviators back on and then my manager gives me a B12 shot in my thigh and then hands me a shot of Patron Silver.

The author reads the first chapter and stumbles through the good parts and then says something about me doing coke with John Stamos and I’m pretty sure I’ve never met this person before. My manager whispers “Uncle Jessie” and I nod. Yes, that did happen. I pull my manager back over to the corner and ask if he has any morphine. He looks horrified and pushes me over to the bar where I have another shot of Patron Silver.

I feel in my pockets for a Vicodin. I REALLY need one now. Hairs on my back stand up as I listen to the reading. There is this notion of the Seventh Avenue world of designs, drugs, and magazines passing itself off as the definition of cool. NO, they are just a conduit to what people want. I look around and realize everyone is staring at me. I hear the author discuss my leather pants. Yes, Mickey is back.

The band Coldplay shows up and are very drunk, but Bono and The Edge are also there and play a short acoustic set that ends with me standing on a bar singing “Where The Streets Have No Names”. Everyone cheers, buys me shots of Patron Silver, and tell me I’m amazing. I shrug and then Rikki Rocket shows up wearing a black leather cowboy hat and says he has a Town Car gassed and ready to go so we leave, take off our shirts, and drive though Times Square where we pick up two girls at the Blue Fin W bar. Both girls are named Stoli so we take them to a club named FIX and then maybe we end up at a male strip club named Bananas, although this is where the night starts to become fuzzy. I may or may not have been on stage and that is the last scene I remember before my manager pulls me out of the Town Car that is parked at LaGuardia and drags me into the airport. As my manager pushes me through the security line he tells me I was on stage, was completely nude, and was yelling “Mickey Is Back!” I ask my manager if I looked good and he nods.

Apparently there is a rehab facility in New Mexico expecting my arrival.

Rock and Roll,
Mick

Mickey, the ex-model-turned-ex-porn-star-turned-model, is the narrator of the new novel, “BLOOD: The New Red” (author David S. Grant). To read an excerpt and reserve a copy today go to http://www.silverthought.com/blood/. Twitter: @david_s_grant

My Night In Vegas

Posted: November 12, 2011 in Uncategorized

Sometimes the heat in Vegas has nothing to do with the temperature.

There are about seven of us in all and my manager is already baked when we meet at the Bellagio. “Dude, it’s my party.” My manager doesn’t have an excuse, already wobbling as he reaches the bar. It’s three in the afternoon.

We drink boilermakers and play poker at Bellagio, then play craps at Caesar’s until the complimentary shots of Jim Beam are out, smoke crack behind TI, walk through MGM in two minutes, walk back over to TI and drink frozen mixers while smoking Kool cigarettes and commenting on the length of the waitresses’ cocktail dresses, rent two Ferraris and drive to Crazy Horse Too, where we drop two grand on strippers (would have dropped four, but we get thrown out when my manager’s friend Jekyll bites Jasmine’s nipple), total one of the Ferraris on the way to Olympic Gardens, leave the Ferrari, go into OG’s and drop two more grand, eat sliders with mustard at a restaurant called Lucky Burger, and then smoke crack next to the lone Ferrari hidden behind the Lucky Burger dumpster.

After sliders, we hop on a helicopter, take a loop around the city, finally landing near the Stratosphere, where we go to the top and drink Bacardi straight up with a slice of chocolate cake. Leave the chopper and walk to Stardust, drink red wine and smoke cigars and sing karaoke songs. Half an hour before midnight, we go to Circus Circus and take the elevator to the roof, where a guy named Archie has arranged for a Cambodian stripper to perform for my manager. I walk over to the open bar, order a shot of dry gin, and then lean over the side of the roof and watch the city lights as midnight, the New Year, approaches. At midnight, the fireworks begin and I look over at my manager and see that the Cambodian girl is now performing oral sex on him. Archie walks over and explains that she’s only a stripper and that this is normal in her country. I turn back to the lights of the Vegas Strip as they shoot to the sky.

“I know a place just off the Strip that has the best Thai.” Archie puts his pipe back into his pocket.

“Cool,” someone says and we pile into the Ferrari and within minutes pull up to a two-star hotel and walk up to the second floor, where the Thai prostitutes are waiting for us and then after twenty minutes meet out in the hallway, where we all smoke Kool cigarettes and drink from a warm case of Miller that was left in the hallway by someone. Two guys decide to stay at the hotel with the girls and finish the case of Miller. “Ahaahaa, dude, that was fucking awesome,” laughs My manager as we pile back into the Ferrari and speed back over to the Strip and stop at The Paradise Club, where the strippers are doing a shower scene on stage and Archie works out a deal to get My manager up on the stage, but he looks too stoned to remember and spends the whole time laughing hysterically. After the shower, the girls take My manager backstage, where more laughter is heard, and a bill for one thousand dollars is handed to Archie. When my manager comes out, he goes over to Archie and whispers something into his ear. Archie gets up and goes backstage, my manager walks over to me and I’m high and I ask him if his soon-to-be bride knows what’s going on tonight and he tells me that it doesn’t matter because he’s only marrying her for her trust fund and that when she finds out the wedding may be worse than Kill Bill. Archie returns with a smile on his face and says, “You’re right, it was worth a thousand.” At Perfect 10, I get lap dances from girls named Saw and Ginger, but my second dance is cut short when Archie interrupts and says we have to go because they are playing Kanye West music, which is just the same to me because Ginger isn’t really into the dance, snorting cocaine while she’s grinding on me.

In Bikinis, three rounds of Manhattans are consumed and conversations about both grass skirts and whether or not Mariah Carey is still considered crazy are had. A girl named Anne begins talking with my manager, but he can’t stop laughing so she leaves. The grass skirt conversation carries over when we arrive at Coyote Ugly and begin drinking Old Fashions, even though we ordered gin, and my manager dances on the bar until we are asked to leave. A joint is smoked inside the House of Blues while waiting for our Sidecars, which we slam in under a minute, and then at Rain, another joint is smoked instead of attempting to get drinks at the overcrowded bar.

Ten minutes later in a club with “Aces” in the name, we throw down double shots of dry gin and eat pretzels and then out of our minds all do the funky chicken on the dance floor. In the club we lose two of my manager’s friends and now we’re down to three. Archie and I head to the blackjack tables and lose three hundred each and then drink more dry gin and Archie talks two porn stars into doing a show for My manager, so we all go up to a room and watch the girls perform oral on each other for twenty minutes or so and then go to The Imperial Palace where, the owner knows Archie and lets us openly smoke hash in his lounge. We meet Nicolas Cage and Archie pitches his new reality show idea to him and Nic sounds interested as he sips a Heineken. They embrace and exchange contact information.

Outside of the casino, Archie falls on his face and while My manager and I are laughing two squatters help him up and then Archie starts talking to them and it turns out they were actors at one point so Archie gives them his card and asks them where’s a good place for breakfast and the squatters both point across the street where we see the sign for Denny’s.

At some point after plates of sausage and bacon we hook up with a guy named Earl who is driving the Ferrari with my manager riding shotgun, a girl named Rose on his lap, and Archie passed out with sunglasses on in the back seat. I ask Earl what time it is and he tells me “4:30 am” then pulls out his crack pipe and that’s the last thing I remember until I wake the next morning in Los Angeles with my aviators resting perfectly on my face.

Mickey is the star of “BLOOD: The New Red”, the new novel from David S. Grant. For more information go to http://www.bloodthenewred.com or http://www.davidsgrant.com .

Mickey Rumors and Spies…

Posted: September 23, 2011 in Uncategorized

Spotted next to Lindsay Lohan at the Marc Jacobs fashion show…Buying aviators on the corner of Grand and Lafayette…Smoking a Camel inside The Bubble Lounge in TriBeCa…Leaving the Bubble Lounge with four girls – all with green hair…Seen wandering around Times Square at 4am, clutching a bag of oranges…Front row of Betsey Johnson fashion show…sharing a joint backstage with Aerosmith…Buying aviators on the corner of Prince and West Broadway.

JAZZ Fest

Posted: September 23, 2011 in Uncategorized

After two minutes I decide on the black Fedora with the red stripe and catch a cab to Lower Manhattan. When he drops me off at a ferry terminal I’m confused. The driver tells me it’s the only way to Governor’s Island, hence the only way to Jazz Fest. I shake my head and signal for the driver to keep driving another 200 yards when we reach a helicopter pad. I walk inside and ask if anyone wants to take me to the island. When they ask which island, I point, and the laugh and then agree to do it for $100 dollars. Since I don’t have cash on me they agree to do it as long as they can take one photo with half my shirt pulled up. Typically I would charge $500, but I really don’t like ferries man!

Once I arrive I jump a short fence and am inside Jazz Fest. There is a girl who is dressed like January Jones in Mad Men and we start to dance and then go buy champagne drinks that taste a little bit like Fresca and a lot like cheap rum. We have two of these and then dance some more until someone brushes up against me and I feel their sweat. Two more drinks, we split a small salad, and then we share a joint in the port-o-pot. When we open the door, smoke bellows out and then Miss Jones screams and says something about a husband and then there is a man wearing a tight Jets jersey running my way so I close the door, finish the joint, and wait for him to leave.

On my way out I grab one more drink and then spot a wealthy looking man so I ask if he has a helicopter and he says no, but does have his yacht and is leaving soon. I catch a ride on the yacht with the man his wife and two of her older friends who are just happy to talk to me and we circle around the city and drink wine and smoke joints and then the man turns on some soft John Coltrane and we all laugh because this is so much more fun than Governor’s Island.