one for the money, two for the show.

Three to get da ladies,
at least dudes clubbin hope so.

As of late, Hollyweird seems to be drowning in dreary NOT so hot "hot spots."
After all, when one longs to make "love in da club," night after night, the club scene may seem all but "dead and gone."

Heaven forbid celebs be seen frolicin' at familiar, but fashionable night haunts during the actual weekend. However, for us lowly *stalkerities, the weekend unfolds as the only feasible time slot for fun n' festivities. In the name of research, I have rounded up all my single ladies to test the waters. Here lies visible proof of our adventures as we forge ahead, back in the saddle again. Yeehaw.

*Stalkerities: individuals who fancy themselves equal to celebrities simply because they are familiar with every detail, no matter how seemingly small, of stars activities and or physical person.

First stop, H.WOOD.

Infamous for the Speidi incident on the most recent episode of "The Hills," H.Wood boasts ample space, even for a staged reality show. Heidi and Spencer can not suck the class from the shabby chic decor that defines this bar scene. Looks deceive as you enter the narrow hallway which opens up to bar number one. The club continues to creep onward and downward. It's said Drew Barrymore and her confused on and off again lover Justin Long have been seen cozying up in the dark corners that dominate H.Wood. With my single ladies in tow, I had the pleasure of giving H.Wood attendee Brandon Routh (Superman) a full on eye appraisal. And a peruse of his person is tragically all I managed due to the posse of male amigos swarming his sides. Also viewed on his person was some blazing bling. Upon closer inspection, a bold wedding band stared back at me. It appears I WON'T be taken to flight school. Kate Bosworth gets all the fun.

Next, a rendezvous at the VIPER ROOM calls the term "Dolls" into question.

"Meow" would be a vast understatement for the Pussycat Dolls' provocative performance.

Dare I use the most repeated reference to 80's pop culture? But yes, girls DO just wanna have fun. No where was this more evident than in the close quarters of the volatile Viper Room. If you ask me, a little too close. When watching women teeter in swings or parade about in scantily clad strings and bows defined loosely as costumes, I mused aloud to myself, "Lindsay, you ain't in Oklahoma no more." However, I could not seem to tear my eyes from a blond seductively sashaying in a life-size champagne glass. As she sprayed water droplets upon me with one swish of her leg, I shivered in disgust. Though the gentlemen to my left may beg to differ, I couldn't help but wonder if she had an STD.


Lastly, time to close with a lil' class at BOULEVARD3.




Who doesn't become tempted by the thought of a sumptuous soy bar? The South seems to have overlooked such sensuous delicacies. I do not believe soy ever touched my lips before this eve. But I must congratulate GenArt for teasin' our taste buds with the latest "ecco cuisine." At this chef cook off hosted in the swanky and spacious confines of Boulvevard3, Julianne Moor served as guest judge. Somewhere, deep inside my stalkerity soul, I hoped to find one flaw evident on her creamy, porcelain skin. It's easy to chalk up celeb beauty to professional air brushing and proper lighting. However, do not be fooled my friends in the *918. Ms. Moor not only maintains a luxurious mane of auburn hair, but also the likable air that comes with truly knowing her place in celebdom.

*918: slang reference to Tulsa, Oklahoma.