Prostitute Freaky Deaka

"Obsessive-Compulsive Prostitute or O.C.P.:  noun, defined as a prostitute who is obsessed with cleanliness"

First official post on a Freaky Deaka (feminine verbage of Deak), but I'm not sure we should get the champagne flowing quite yet. We do have to get over the emotional herpes, I mean hurdle, of interacting with a whore...

So Dar and I were in Vegas this past weekend on one of our bi-monthly business of pleasure trips - and just to clarify, the operative word here is not "bi" - when we had a run in with a compulsively hygienic and seemingly innocent lady, otherwise known as the Prostitute Freaky Deaka.

We were posted up at the Venetian Hotel casino after a mesmerizing night at Tao watching men in wheelchairs dance/roll on their dubs with scantily clad women, getting fodder for our forthcoming dissertation titled "The Laws of Attraction: Over the Limit, Under the Influence, and Between the Sheets". Our eyes and Dar's feet would soon find out what these women were all about...

As we were sitting by the slots, or sluts as it turned out, waiting for our chaperone of a friend Bryan to cash in his poker chips, a posse of clubby looking deakas in their twenties approach us to admire our pink and black get-ups. We're all about female empowerment by means of boosting the confidence of other women, so we return the deakaments. Some harmless conversation ensues and soon thereafter, we have established that Dar and the soon to be anointed Prostitute Freaky Deaka lived in the same town in Cali a few years prior. During this most riveting of conversations, a person walks by and spills a drink on Dar's shoes, inciting the Deaka-stitute to have an utter deakdown. She incessantly asks Dar if she can wash her feet, but Dar is weary of the rub down.  Eventually Dar gives in, so Deaka grabs her by the hand and brings her to a bathroom about a mile away.

Next thing you know Dar's sitting on a toilet while Prostitute Freaky Deaka and her Street-a-Deak Walking Crew are soaping Dar's feet and shoes, cleaning them from what looked to me to be a vodka soda, an elixir I generally use to clean stains.

All of a sudden we hear the sounds of walkie-talkies and male voices at the door. Our new D.B.F.'s (deaka best friends) seem startled. Four men in uniform enter bathroom and announce, "This is the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department and we are responding to a call from the Venetian security force for two counts of trespassing and harassment."

Dar and I look at each other with bewilderment and terror. How did we manage to get the police on our tail in the most liberal of U.S. cities? And yes, tail turns out to be the operative word.

Three of the officers wrangle up the deakas while the remaining officer takes Dar and I to the side. He says, "Do you realize you're fraternizing with some of Vegas's finest hookers?"

Ok, I don't live under a rock but prostitutes? Really? I say, "I'm not trying to interject here but I think we were thrown for a loop by the fact that they were so concerned with cleanliness."

"Well you know what they say, "No glove, no love. No shampoo, no screw," he says with a wink.

With all this introspection of how the Vegas deaka-counter ensued, I don't think I can hold out from the bubbly much longer. But I suppose we should pour prudently into the flutes so there's no mess, in deference to the O.C.P. Prostitute Freaky Deaka.

UPDATE: Young Senator Freaky Deak

"Pin the tail on the jackass"

Just picked up a call assuming it was a status update from my sculptor on my commissioned Swarovski crystal donkey installation and instead it's the Young Senator Freaky Deak, the married-with-child Democratic politician I met in Newport a couple weeks back.

Before I could even digest the cosmic meaning of why my life was coming up jackasses, Deakitician says he has the most amazing news for me. I jump to the conclusion that he has designated a spot for me on his re-election campaign as fundraising coordinator for the young professionals, and I begin to conceptualize the inaugural event. In two months my donkey installation will be complete so I can lend it to the political operative gratis, albeit I get clearance from the state's campaign financing committee. The sculpture will then function as the buffet centerpiece at the W Hotel kickoff banquet titled "Donkeying for a New Democracy."

But my pipe dreams go up in smoke and Deak ejaculates (for lack of a better word) the most pungent spewing of drivel ever: "Now we can finally consummate our feelings. I'm getting a divorce!"

I am speechless and can barely swallow this admission/emission. Finally I say, "Why? From everything you've told me you have the most amazing wife and baby. People go through adversarial circumstances but there is counseling and ways to come out on top."

He responds, "On top is where I want you to be."

I deak-out and my heart races 100 deakometers per minute. "I don't think you should be saying this to me...This is getting weird," I deaknounce.

"No, no, no. You shouldn't feel that way at all. It's iffy right now but I really want you to come over and we can talk this through. Just not quite yet. I can't let my doorman see me bringing you over until things get more squared away with her, not to mention the surveillance cameras. But soon enough," Deak says.

What deaklusional realm of the universe does he live in? I tell him I have to run, not before reiterating the benefits of couples counseling, even though I personally think that psychoanalysis is jackass-inine.

My own version of the freakin deakin Mr. Ed song keeps playing in my head:

A horse is a horse, of course of course,
But I am not, nor refuse to be,
The source, or centrifugal force,
That is, of course, if we're talking deakvorce.

UPDATE: White Little Richie Freaky Deak (VOICEMAIL)

"If at a millionth time you don't succeed, don't try again..."

White Little Richie Freaky Deak sure likes to hear his own voice and self proclaimed musical ingenuity as heard in his 10+ jam sessions he's left on Dar's voicemail since the "Text is alright, but it's too sterile for me" message. Here's his latest performance, recorded last night:

Beethoven/Mozart he's not, but deaknomenon.....absolutely.

HOT 97.5 FM Freaky Deak (FACEBOOK)

"Freaky Deakeo killed the radio star"

This is Deejay Mel and the Deaktractors spinning the latest "Meet and Deak" mix on Deak Radio 2.0 and HOT 97.5 FM Freaky Deak grabs the number 1 spot on today's Deakshow countdown. Enjoy the stalkery rhythms and calculating cadences of the HOT 97.5 FM Freaky Deak.

As you probably ascertained, I'm trying to get on the same wavelength of HOT 97.5 FM Freaky Deak, in order to understand what jarring frequency he's on. So a couple weeks ago, Dar and I are out for a friend's bday at a Boston club usually not travelled by us, when we happened upon a little contest for a Mercedes, being hosted on air by HOT 97.5 FM Freaky Deak.

The forthcoming deejay scenario would have been completely averted if Dar listened to me tell her that the Mercedes up for grabs looked like an impounded drug trafficking vehicle featured on one of those police auction commercials that just happened to have a Mercedes hood charm strapped to the front. But we're not ones to live in the rearview mirror, shitbox or not, so what's deak is done and done is deak.

We scribble our names down on the sign-up sheet and next thing you know, we are on air with HOT 97.5 FM Deak, rolling dice for rustbucket. He tells us that if you roll "HOT 97.5" in that order you will become the proud owner of an arrest warrant, I mean luxury vehicle. Luck be my lady Dar and she rolls "HOT" which apparently equals absolutely nothing but she somehow manages to swindle him for a $200 gift certificate to the bar. I roll "MJ4E" on my turn, and apathetically convince Deak-jay that it stands for "Michael Jackson Forever," and collect a not too shabby $100. Clearly the prospect of becoming on air personalities pales in comparison to our Create Our Own Consolation Prize and we depart for more thirst quenching pastures.

While the high cost of drinks did put a limit on the $300, let's see that's about 8 drinks each, minus spillage, drink gifting to friends, and the obligatory roofied throwaway, you still might be Creating Your Own Conclusion on what deakveloped. But the only grease we took home with us that night was an XL pizza, hold the deak.

And thus, when Dar received HOT 97.5 FM Freaky Deak's Facebook message a few days ago, we had to put the events on replay and deakpeat, in order to even recall this character. I guess for Deak-jay, chatting on air constituted genuine conversation:

There's dead air right now...

Young Senator Freaky Deak

"Two senators erect?!"
Oh boyyyyyyy what a week! And when I say boy, I don't mean an underage intern who has been inappropriately subjected to the predatory actions of multiple public servants. But if you swap out the sex, age, and profession of the victim and keep the assailants in tact, you might know where I'm headed...

Just when I thought the Old Senator Freaky Deak fulfilled my bi-yearly Massachusetts State Deakitician quota, I had a run-in with the Young Senator Freaky Deak last night in Newport. Okay, he's a State Rep, but for the sake of uniformity let's call him a senator. So Dar and I are on a business of pleasure trip in R.I. and as we're grabbing sustenance outside at the Black Pearl on the wharf, enjoying one of the last mild nights of fall in New England, Young Senator Freaky Deak and his equally deaky brother encroach upon our table.

Deakitician claims to be playing deakman for his unattached brother who has seemingly taken a liking to Dar. He assures me he is a happily married man who has a beautiful wife and newborn. To prove his devotion, he pulls out a photo of his baby, and talks incessantly about his family. The Brothers Deak insist on ordering up drinks for us, even though we were fully stocked, or more accurately stalked. We talk a little bit of this, a little bit of that, and before you know it, Deak wants me to run the young professional component of his re-election campaign. Considering I could potentially get paid to throw parties, I oblige and give him my number.

Meanwhile brother Deak is all up in Dar's personal space, and next thing you know, Young Senator Deak's hand is caressing my shoulder. I push him off and Dar and I discreetly signal to each other that things have taken an iffy turn. To reverse the inadvertent date scenario, I suggest that we transition over to the bar.

But the bar only seems to exacerbate the situation as now that we're standing up, he can put a firm hold on my waist. He plays innocent and tells me he is only being touchy to make all other guys in the bar jealous. But when Deak starts doing the shimmy into my chest and then face, and asks to come back to our hotel for a nightcap, I realize it's time to deakpart.

UPDATE: Husband Freaky Deak (TEXT)

"You're being serviced...with divorce papers"

Husband Freaky Deak has reverted to texting me, the same person he called a "bubble head", since his texts to Dar fell on deaf ears:

It's undeniable things are irreconcilable and needless to say the deakvorce is imminent. It's just a matter of working out the terms of the settlement, and when I say settlement, forget about the Newport mansion and the Aspen condo. The sole term of the agreement is to never contact us ever again.

Old Senator Freaky Deak

"Your erection won't win my election"

At an exclusive hotel bar in Boston that rhymes with tits the other night for our weekly Mel Squared Night (a night out with my dark haired Mel counterpart) when Old Senator Freaky Deak projectile launches into my blue dress, Clinton style. He proceeds to tell us about his political pedigree from former mayor of a large MA city to state senator, a position he has held since my inauguration into this world.

Deakitician, who looks to be pushing 75, boasts about his penthouse pad at the hotel residences and asks us what we are sipping and noshing on. Namely because we have to practically refinance our apartments everytime we got to The Tits for dirties and burgs, and since Extra Dirty Drinkmaker Dave whispers to us that Deak is harmless and will help me push a piece of alcohol by volume legislation, we entertain him White House Social Secretary style.

Soon thereafter, a cheap looking blonde chick, who appears no older than 22, walks in and glares/stares us down, and I'd be remiss not to mention the special edition LV handbag she is carrying. Extra Dirty Dave lets us know that she has been dating Deak on and off for a few months. He overshares to us that the word in the city is he's hung like a horse, or a donkey to be more deakitically correct, and that his cash flow from private ventures keeps the under 30 deak-diggers flocking like a politician to a bathroom stall.

Even with Dollar Signs Deaka prowling around, Deak won't leave my side. He inquires about my aspirations, which I probably should have told him were life, liberty, and the pursuit of non-deakiness, but instead I pontificate about how I have a patent for a vodka based wine cooler that has an alcohol proof rivaling moonshine. The vintage politico invites me to his upstairs crib for a vintage bottle of wine to further discuss how he's going to get my bill heard on the senate floor through such means as a cocktail hour in the State House Library. While the prospect of getting my legislation passed is enticing, I obviously decline his offer although not without the obligatory business card exchange.

So yesterday I'm sitting in my office and the secretary calls me to say she has a so and so on the phone and even though I'm seeing and breathing olives, I am still able to associate said name to a deak. I tell her to put him straight to voicemail. Of course it's the Old Senator Freaky Deak who says he had the most sensational time with me last night but is very unhappy that I stood him up for our lunch date, a date that never existed even in the deakiest of universes where the sky rains extra dirties, and children play soccer with bleu cheese stuffed olives.

UPDATE: White Little Richie Freaky Deak (VOICEMAIL)

"You're harder to get ahold of than the first lady"
Dar's voicemail has apparently become White Little Richie Freaky Deak's own personal recording studio as heard in this morning's message: