Welcome to the all-new (which is kinda like the completely old version) of one of Exotic’s most notorious columns. And guess what, kids? This month, Erotic City is being brought to you 100% live from the Rose City.
Ya see, normally I compile all the editorial from my home base out in Seattle where I produce Underground, our prudish little sister publication. Yet this time around, unstable forces beyond my control grabbed hold of me by the testicles and demanded I come back to where it all started. As an added incentive for my assistance, I was given my first Abuse Target since I returned to these pages. Fuck this, I’m not gonna pad it, a supposed member of our home team who puts this magazine together (also the longest-term member) finally lost his mind. We all knew it was coming someday—he was never that much fun to start with. I mean, what kind of guy works in a porn office and acts like a goddamned prison screw? How could one man work at Exotic for more than 10 years and still not get laid? Working in a porn office year after year has extreme effects on anyone given enough time, just as being a dancer or anyone else in the sex industry, for that matter. But never…and I mean NEVER...have I seen a man working in this environment that was always so fucking miserable. (This guy could even blow it with a bought and paid-for hooker, and I’m not speculating on that one.) So for the past God-knows-how-many years, the majority of the staff here at Exotic endured this “Independent Contractor’s” wrath and tiptoed around him as if we were the bomb squad and he was a nuclear device. A week before deadline, the bomb went off.
Now I can speak on this from both sides to a degree. Those of you that are still around from my era at Exotic might remember that my own personal bomb went off several years ago, and as a result, I told my “boss” (also now my partner in Exotic Underground) to fuck off, and I bailed on Exotic. My revenge was eventually to start a bunch of shitty poseur magazines in Portland, which until only recently continued to be the bane of Exotic’s existence. Exotic’s answer to this was to do the “Exotic Goes to War” issue, which basically was about 10 pages of personal bashing on yours truly exposing every skeleton they could find in Spooky’s closet. Apparently, “I went out like a bitch!”
This month, we were treated to exactly what “going out like a bitch” could truly mean.
I would love to get more personal about this. I never used to pull punches in this column, but then again, I never had to turn the sights on one of our own. Let’s just say this, in the 13 years this magazine has existed, it has seen many players come and go, but regardless of non-compete clauses, stolen hard drives, sex scandals, blackmail, money laundering, drug addictions or closet homosexuals…this magazine has and will always continue to not only survive but to dominate. So I’m gonna dedicate this “Sabotage Proof” issue to our fallen soldier. This was never your battle, dude, you never fit in, and attitudes such as yours in the workplace are going to make it very difficult for you to find another meal ticket that will put up with your ass as long as this magazine did. My only regret for you is that we have crushed all the competition that might have hired you based on their spite for us. (Oh yeah, and thanks for not coming in and cutting us all down with an Uzi like we all suspected it would eventually end.)

So now that I’ve got that shit outta the way, it’s time to bring you horny little bastards all up to speed with what’s going on in our sinful little haven. And to start it off, it doesn’t get any naughtier than this—DV8 proudly presents the Gran Turismo 4 Challenge on Wednesday, March 8th @ 9:30—start saving your quarters now. Once your heart stops racing from that, you can check out Exotic Tuesdays over at the Jefferson Theater. Once you finish there, take your leftover scratch on over to Wildcats for their Texas Hold 'Em Tournament of Champions on Sunday, March 12th @ 7:30. The winner of this baby gets a trip to Vegas, and if you didn’t make the finals, fear not! A brand-new tournament begins the following Sunday.
One of my favorite places to drool over a kick-ass breakfast at 7am while pretending I’m a gynecologist has got to Jody’s Bar and Grill. I love this place. Stop by to check out Jody’s Angels (does that mean Jarred is Tom Bosley?) performing on Portland’s original bed stage with Strawberry Jam. (Uhh, is that a stripper’s name, or will fruit preserves actually be involved?) Looking for somewhere to stiffen your shamrock? The Dream On Saloon is having a huge St Patty’s Day Blast on Friday, March 17th, completely stocked with green elves, errr...I mean leprechauns, pot of gold not included. Once you’re good and wrecked the next morning, head on back for a hair-of-the-dog St. Patty’s Hangover Party at the Pallas on the 18th.
Come on in out of the cold and take in a good film over at the Oregon Theater, where you can view 3 new XXX features daily, with special BiFlix features on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Rather stay in for movie night? Area 69 has just expanded their movie and new release selection with DVDs as low as $9.95 plus a complete selection of glass pipes and smoking accessories.
Welcome to Spices Body Shop—Portland’s newest swingers…stop by and schedule your own private party for any Sunday night. Claude and his posse will be tearing it up big time when Atlantis Showgirls officially surfaces for their Grand Re-Opening Party on Saturday, March 25th. The Dolphin clubs will be keeping it hard this month with Velabonz (featured in this month’s issue) at D2 on March 16th and D1 on March 23rd.
Got Body? Got Attitude? Take off your clothes NOW and get on over to The Viewpoint for the 2006 Top Entertainer of The Northwest contest with over $20,000 in cash prizes, with the first heat kicking off on March 21st. That’s it for now, as always…sounds like Portland’s got you covered for all the best in adult entertainment. Catch ya next month.

SpookyX
(exoticunderground2004@yahoo.com)