SEX & GUTS MAGAZINE ONLINE

BEAUTY AND THE BEER
By Lainie Speiser

ROCKS OFF

The Thursday night Rocks Off party (hosted by Chris Zahn, Gallus and DJ Flaco at The Rivertown Lounge on Orchard St.) is easily the sweetest deal in town. The 70s and 80s music kicks ass with great nuggets like Sweet’s "Ballroom Blitz," Aldo Nova’s "Fantasy" and Loverboy’s "Turn Me Loose." They serve grilled cheese sandwiches, which bubble to a light golden brown on the George Forman Grill, and the Go-Go girls are cute. But I’d say their motto "Rock out with your cock out," clinched it for me to hostess a Penthouse party there with two of my finest Pets. That and the unlimited supply of free Rheingold beer.

You see Rheingold was the first beer I ever drank. I was eleven-years-old and my cousin Desi and I found an entire case behind the bar of my Uncle Freddy’s furnished basement. Before that my alcohol experience had been wine during Passover Seder and champagne on special occasions. No one was home and we were bored, so we drank a few down. Warm. I remember catching my first real buzz, and I also remember we smoked a few of my Uncle Freddy’s cigars too, while taking turns reading out loud from his porno book, "The Orgy Starts At Nine." Unfortunately, I inhaled those cigars, got a mind-bending, back-sweating much harder buzz and got horribly sick behind the garage. I haven’t smoked a stogie and drank a Rheingold since.

Despite being a respectable lager started by the German Bendheim family and brewed in New York since 1883, Rheingold’s public image isn’t the highest class. In fact, it’s a brew that’s considered lower than Bud, Miller, Strohs, or even Colt 45. I don’t think this beer comes in anything but a can [au contraire Miss Lainie: try Mars Bar on 2nd and First Avenue-ed.], which is always a sure sign of high trash. I forgot Rheingold even existed, until last year when hanging out at Spanish Harlem’s 103 Bar and noticed they had it on tap. I didn’t try it then, because I still harbored unpleasant retching memories. I ordered a Speckled Hen instead. But my friend Chris’ memories of this canned beer are much more pleasant. His Rocks Off party is a labor of love, a tribute to his white boy pubescence, and DJ Flaco named the party after rock-pop band extraordinaire, Primal Scream, who penned a song of the same name. (Not to be confused with "Rocks Off" by the Stones.) I asked Chris how he could have possibly gotten the good people at Rheingold to contribute so much beer bounty, to which he replied, "I just begged and harassed them until they said yes." The other reason Rheingold co-sponsored the Rocks Off party is that they’re on the heels of a major comeback and trying to change the above mentioned rep, by appealing to the low life chic barflies like myself. They also sponsor parties and concerts at other Downtown spots like The Knitting Factory, and appeal in the upwardly mobile artsy set at Williamsburg, Brooklyn watering holes like Luxx and North Six.

I came to The Mission bearing Penthouse swag: T-shirts, Baby T’s, keychains that also serve as bottle openers and my two Pets, Victoria Zdrok and Linn Tomas. As a Penthouse Publicist and runner of the luscious Pets, I try not to play favorites, but I do admit I have a special admiration for these two hotties. They embody what Penthouse Pets were to me at the time I drank that first beer, and had a habit of sneaking peeks at the porno mags at the local newsstand. The two ladies are always dressed to the hilt, their make up is impeccable, their hair is blown to large proportions, and they both possess a sexy, but mysterious quality that draws men like bees to honey. And they didn’t let me down for The Rocks Off party. Victoria, a Russian busty blonde wore snakeskin from her peek-a-boo halter to her spiked heels and Linn, an American-Asian beauty chose a shocking blue hot pants number. Sometimes I have to explicitly coach my girls on the appropriate outfit for each event, but not these two. I simply said, think Rock ‘n Roll, and they did exactly that. With my trusty Polaroid camera in hand and some sharpies for the Pets to sign their names on, I led them to the couch at the VIP area where we would spend the next few hours.

"What are we here to promote again?" Linn asked taking off her fringed black suede jacket, which I immediately tried on. I explained that she was promoting her starring role in the new release of the Penthouse Play off video, which was playing at the bar, and immediately gathering a crowd of horny, gawking, young men, and Victoria would be promoting her appearance in the June Penthouse Play Off issue. Victoria laughed, fluffed my hair and nuzzled her nose into my cheek. "Oh Lainie, you’ll always find an excuse to have a party, won’t you?" Of course she was absolutely right, it’s the big perk of the job. Play for pay, and why wouldn’t I take full advantage of it. Two weeks prior to this party I took Victoria to a rock rave in Connecticut. The hours of train time back and forth gave us plenty of intimate girl talk and Victoria opened up to me with her pearls of sex wisdom. "Don’t give a man too much head," she advised, "It makes them lazy. Also, anal is something you only give as a treat once a year. Like on his birthday." Linn’s jacket would have been a nice fit, except my chest is larger than hers and couldn’t quite make the buttons close in that area. When I saw her beautiful almond eyes take notice of it, I got embarrassed and quickly whipped it off and draped it around a chair.

Chris and DJ Flaco introduced themselves to the Pets and I took some Polaroids with them cuddling the girls. Chris came bearing gifts for me, a video of vintage stag films called, "Buxotic Big Top Glamour," an "I Love Dick" pin and a can of Rheingold. I discarded the rest and made a grab for the beer, I was curious to see if the taste would trigger off any premenstrual memories. It didn’t. Which is probably why I liked it. It’s dry, smooth and surprisingly sweet, which I didn’t count on at all. "This isn’t bad at all," I told Chris, "It’s actually kinda refreshing."

Maybe the problem was I first drank Rheingold was in warm, musty, basement temperature. "Yeah it is good," Chris said, "At first people were excited to have free beer, and then they’d hear it was Rheingold, and say no thanks. But you can’t resist free beer, so they give it a try. I think it’s better than Bud." I agreed, but then again I think almost any other beer is better than Budweiser. As I was sipping my can, I noticed a group of guys huddling around the VIP area, pretending not to look at Linn and Victoria, pretending they didn’t really want to meet them and have their photos taken with two centerfolds. "They’re shy," Chris said, "I’m telling them all to come and meet them, but they don’t have the nerve." I’d been in this position before, and having another man try to push only makes the situation sleazier. I turned around and saw a cherubic, pony-tailed blond guy standing with a shy smile. I squeezed his doughy arm and said, "Come with me, I want you to meet The Pets. This is Victoria, and this is Linn. And you are?" He turned out to be a newcomer to New York, to the States, a Hungarian 21-year-old named Atilla. Well all it takes is one person to break the ice. In a half hour I was almost sorry I dragged the Eastern-European youth in. The VIP area got very hot and muggy with Penthouse fans and general horndogs cutting each other in line and asking me if they could have more than one or two Polaroids. "One photo is for them," I told DJ Flaco, and the other is to show their friends or co-workers and pretend they scored these two one night at a club." And with the ice cold Rheingold-a-flowing inhibitions were rapidly evaporating. "Thank you so much," one guy gushed, "I waited for this all night!"

Of course I invited some friends to this party, and I was most pleased with the appearance of my ex-boss, Mike Moi. We were a great team at Penthouse, always playing good cop/bad cop with the Pets, the media and the swag vendors. Boy, how we loved to haggle them down and drive them crazy. I remember one salesman practically crying, "Guys you’re killing me!" And I laughed and said, "You’re doing business with a Chinese man and Jewish woman, what did you expect?" I miss having Mike around a whole lot, peddling porn just isn’t as rewarding without him and his wonderful sense of humor. "What’re you drinking, baby?" he asked after a hug. I told him to bring me another Rheingold, and to my surprise he brought back one for himself too. Mike’s more of a Bombay Sapphire martini guzzler. We clinked cans and Mike said I was doing a fine job without him, "And what high class refreshments you serve," he added. I told him Rheingold was my first beer, and that I drank it in my Uncle Freddy’s basement. "And then he touched you down there?" Mike asked extending his manicured finger South. I took a big gulp of suds and shook my head. "Not that day." Suddenly Michael’s smile disappeared and he said, "Oh honey, I miss you!" We hugged again, clutching our Rheingolds. It was almost like one of those feelgood beer commercials, if they ran beer commercials on the Spice Channel. Here’s to good friends and good porn.