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Poontang took her new bf, Isaac Cohen, to the Fantasy Tower suite at The Palms in Las Vegas. Cost..40 grand per night. The perks include a rotating bed. I doubt a rotating bed is a good idea for a date that likes to puke on you. Why does this girl insist on trying to impress ugly unemployed men by wasting fortunes on them? This yokel would have been happy with cable TV at the local Super 8. They spent a little time at some gay club (either he's gay or she was hoping she's gotten famous enough to have scored a female impersonater) and then they went back to the 40 grand room to smoke and drink where she could puke and pass out with no photographs of it. This guy has to be desperate, how else do you explain his willingness to spend his evenings with her slowness and projectile vomiting?
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