The bi-Lindsay Lohan and her Volkswagen-size pal stop by Shady's for a loungeapalooza

"I'm married -- three years now -- but she's single," says Danielle, Dairy Queen's pal. "We're here for a friend's B-day, actually."

"Married? My sympathies," cracks Jett. "So what's the secret to keeping all that monogamy from boring the crap out of you?"

"Role-play, different positions, that sort of thing," she replies. "Like he'll be Batman and I'll be Wonder Woman."

"And Kreme is Blubberman and I'm Foxxy Cleopatra," says the Jettster, as she rudely pulls me away from Heather and Danielle. "C'mon, I see some hotties over here we have to talk to."

Near the fireplace, kicked back in those deep chairs, are dimes Soraya and Evie, in town visiting from La-La Land. They live in Hollywood right now, attending FIDM, the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising. Soraya's an exotic mix of Italian and Moroccan. Evie reminds me a little of Charlize Theron (and not in the film Monster), maybe even better looking.

"So do you guys hit the L.A. party scene a lot?" I ask Evie, who says she lives in Los Feliz.

"We hit it some," responds Evie. "Right now Basque is the hot club there."

"Ever see any celebs while you're out?"

"We went to Lindsay Lohan's party a couple of weeks back, and saw her in the bathroom."

"Was she doing something naughty?"

"I couldn't tell, but she was in the stall with a friend of hers for a long time," says Evie, eyes widening. "Oh, and I was at the party at Rick Solomon's place, where that girl hit Leo DiCaprio in the face with a beer bottle. We left literally just minutes before it happened. He had to get a dozen stitches."

"Nutty," I say. "That'd be a shame if it messed up pretty boy's face. Did you talk to him? Maybe exchange numbers?"

"We just talked. He seemed really messed up on something."

"I couldn't go, I had finals the next day," interjects Soraya, a little depressed over what she'd missed.

"Would you have made out with a drunken Leo if you'd had the opportunity?" asks Jett.

"Oh, I would've done so much more than made out! I would have been on my knees in a second!" cries Soraya.

Jett nudges me in the ribs, and asks me to grab her another Bloody Mary. Such are my duties as the man with the credit card. Or maybe she just wanted to get rid of me. As I'm at the bar waiting for the next round, Jett's encouraging Soraya to remove her top.

At the bar, I'm standing between this dude in a cowboy hat and a little Mexican fella barely as high as the bar. The Mexican guy says his name is Carlos, and judging by his heavy accent, I'd say he's a relatively recent arrival to the States. He watches all the lezzy action behind me furtively, drains his pint and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You must be a genius," he tells me. "How do you get all those women to do what you want?"

"They're doing what they want, hombre, but I admit it's fun to watch. I do have a secret, though." I look around, then bend down to his ear. "If you run with one hot bisexual chick, it's like bait -- others will follow."

"You're evil," smiles Carlos, who says he works at a nearby Chinese restaurant.

I ease back over to Her Majesty with her Bloody Mary, squeezing through the bodies. Shady's is not a huge place, and right now, there are so many peeps in here, I feel like I should be chargin' for lap dances.

Soraya and Evie have vamoosed, and Jett's chatting up this handsome couple, Tina and Jarom. For the record, they're platonic roommates. (The worst kind.) Jarom designs sexy clothes for his company,, and come to find out, many of his models are pals like Tina.

"He's got the coolest-ass clothing," Tina tells us. "Like, he's got this women's underwear, black with a vagina diagram on it. You have to see it."

"I've got a pair of those," says Jett. "Can I model for you guys?"

"Sure," responds Jarom. "We're coming out with a whole new line in a week or two."

"Yours is the job I want," Tina tells Jett, looking at her card. "Going out to clubs all the time and taking pictures. How do you get a job like that?"

"She had to sleep with me several times," I snort.

"Sort of like body-surfing a big ol' wave of Jell-O," Jett shoots back, scowling, as if in remembrance.

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