Sunday, July 10, 2 p.m. It's Sunday afternoon and I'm sharing my bed with not one, not two, but three beautiful young men. Well, really it's just a daybed, but why get technical? We're poolside at Green Valley Ranch's Nirvana and I'm counting my blessings: Craig, Nick and Ryan. The Karshner triplets. Their heartwarming, family-friendly Cingular Wireless commercials have probably moved many an overly emotional expectant mother to tears. They nearly made me cry a few times as well this weekend. Especially when they removed their shirts (their own clothing line, by the way) and each delivered a warm kiss to my cheek.
"Two out of three ain't bad," "Good things happen in three's," "Triple your pleasure, triple your fun," "If two's company, three's a party." I'm trying to get all the clichés out of the way so I can move onto the good stuff. Here in Vegas for a calendar and poster signing Saturday, the 22-year-old Karshner triplets want to see what Vegas has to offer in the way of nightlife, and I am charged with the trio's entertainment in their free time.
Friday night, we meet outside Pure and I instantly like them. What I do not like are the sneakers one is wearing, as well as having forgotten his ID. We send him home to remedy the situation. "Two out of three ..." He returns with the ID as fast as his sneakers continue to carry him. Still, we somehow make muster and I show them the No. 1 club in the U.S.—according to E! Entertainment Television, anyway. Predictably, they are attacked by a bachelorette party. When the ladies move on, the boys comment on the bachelorette. "When a woman walks up to you with a tiny penis-whistle around her neck, you gotta think, 'Poor thing, is that what you're used to?'"
Next, I plop them down in a booth at Ivan Kane's Forty Deuce, just in time for the evening's main course. A brunette burlesque dancer takes just two steps on stage and instantly three Bud Lights hit the table. I watch their eyes and jaws widen as she slithers and wriggles out from seemingly endless layers of chiffon, taffeta and rhinestone. She is all feathers and beaded fringe, like an orange wedding cake. "Aw, hell yeah," they trip over each other, the same voice three times. She undoes zippers and fasteners with a look of pain and pleasure, like she's scratching an itch and damn it, she likes it.
They use their Cingular Wireless phones to take wacky photos of each other lit by the table's candle. In the booth, playing with their phones to a slowed-down remix of The Killers' "Mr. Brightside," they are an R-rated version of their commercials. I wonder what Cingular would say. My eyes flicker back and forth in an effort to tell them apart. Nick is broader in the face and wears a black watch, Craig is limping ever so slightly from a sports injury, and Ryan is neither wearing a black watch nor limping.
Saturday, we take in the final Beacher's Madhouse adult comedy show of the summer at the Hard Rock before heading to their calendar signing at the alternative nightclub, Krave. "The boys are straight," says father Steve, who reminds me of Hulk Hogan, "but not narrow. They get along with everyone." Inside the packed club, they strip down to just abs and jeans for the crowd.
"Smile for the camera! One, two, three." I look over an image of myself with a matching set of arm jewelry: three blond boys with wrestler bodies, all-American good looks, good-boy smiles and sleepy bedroom eyes. "Aaand I'm single," I say. "Or I will be when that picture gets out." I'm floored by how genuine and relaxed they are; not a super-sized ego in the pack. I feel like I'm out on the town with my irritatingly handsome, younger first cousins. It's hands-off either way: Each one has a loving girlfriend.
Sunday, we arrive at Nirvana at 1 p.m., just before all the club folks roll in. "This is the best pina colada I've ever had," one says from the pool. Normally, I would guess he was just saying that, but the whole group still lives on a horse ranch in Bakersfield, so I accept that maybe it really is, smile and say, "I'm glad." I try not to notice how the water beads on their skin and runs in rivulets around their muscles. As luck would have it, we bump into the Palms Girls, Ryan Wahrenbrock and Ruth Quinn. A photo is taken and five sets of the bluest eyes peer out above Crest smiles. We throw in the tall male twins who work at Nirvana to make a beautiful seven.
Later, after seeing them off and heading back to the pool, I sip my own pina colada and review all of our photos from this weekend. Then I drink a toast to cell division.
Xania Woodman thinks globally and parties locally. And frequently. E-mail her at
[email protected].
Xania's Hot Spots for July 14-July 20
Thursday, July 14
The launch of Eclectric featuring LA's DJ Stryker:::, Club Seven
Friday, July 15
The Riot Room, Beauty Bar
Steve Lockwood's AV featuring Rooney G., Ra
Saturday, July 16
Jermain Taylor after-fight party, Ivan Kane's Forty Deuce
DJ Sandra Collins, Ice
Sunday, July 17
Locals/industry night featuring the Glamazon Dancers, Risqué
Monday, July 18
Chi featuring DJ Carlos Sanchez of House Society and Soundbar, Teatro
Tuesday, July 19
DJ John Creamer, Tabú
Wednesday, July 20
Boutique, featuring the fashions of Revolt, Tabú
For more Hot Spots and weekly parties visit
www.TheCircuitLV.com and sign up for Xania's free weekly newsletter.