Mortimer Larp III

Thursday, January 02, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Mort!

By Mortimer Larp III, Mercury accountant

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Oh, my aching head. I ate, drank, drank some more, and was merry--then I threw up a bunch. I spent more time in front of the toilet than Kate Moss before a photo shoot! Needless to say, I'm terribly hung over--some say it's my best Oscar Goodman impersonation yet!--but ol' Mort promises to sally forth on this first day of the new year. Bag of hammers in my skullcase or not, the gossip must be mongered! Onward!

Well, the Strip was once again the place to be on New Year's Eve. The crowds were thicker than Anna Nicole's ankles, but I managed to spot a few celebrities here and there amid the haze of hormones, smoke, inhuman shrieks and drunken violence--er, just imagine if there was such a thing as Crazy Horse Too Avenue. Accompanied by my date, the lovely Gretchen Smunkley, I set out with notepad in hand--and bottle of Stoli in the other--to take in the New Year's Eve action.

Highlight of the night? Most definitely it was seeing Liza Minelli perched atop a street sign near the Bellagio, washing down all manner of pills with a 64-ounce bottle of cheap Gustavo wine.

"Gee, you sure know how to celebrate New Year's Eve, Liza!" I shouted up to her.

"It's New Year's Eve?" she shouted back. "And here I thought it was just another Tuesday night!" (Rest assured that hazardous material specialists were on hand for cleanup in case she fell.)

Meanwhile, "Survivor" winner Brian Heidik rang in '03 in truly unique fashion...by filming a "Celebrity Boxing" episode with his longtime girlfriend. Except, oddly, there wasn't a camera in sight, Brian wasn't fighting back and the "ring" was the alley behind Circus Circus. Strange...

From there I wandered south, where, despite the collective vibe of celebration, I still had the eerie feeling I was being followed. In fact, I swore I could hear the faint hiss of some desperate, hungering soul, whispering, "Precious...my precioussss..."

I whipped around. Close behind me was that poor, emaciated creature, driven mad by a blind lust for power and ultimately destroyed by it. Yes, there was Erin Kenny, crawling about in hopeless pursuit of a political career. I told to her stand up and get a hold of herself, but the pitiful monster explained it was hopeless: She had grown so accustomed to getting on her knees that it had become her preferred posture.

I had no time for such drama. Midnight was approaching! As the countdown began, I squeezed Gretchen's hand, closed my eyes and turned to her for our traditional New Year's kiss. But when I opened my eyes, I found I'd been locking lips with one very proficient...Spencer Abraham?!

"You're not my date!" I said.

He was equally miffed. "And you're not mine either!" he said. "Where's Bob List?"