Archive for July, 2010

I got to sleep in a bit this morning, in part because I never did the laundry last night.  All I had firmly on my agenda for today was a softcore casting with one of my favorites and then eventually doing the above referenced laundry.  I drove into Hollywood, saw a couple old friends and then breezed home missing traffic for the first time this week.  I went straight to the laundry when I walked in my door.  It was all going swimmingly, until I tossed them in the dryer.

The dryer is possessed!  It started with this wheezing sound and instantly began to shake uncontrollably and buzz.  I screamed and jumped.  This was seizure of dryers that you wouldn’t have a chance in hell of surviving.  Of course, I was 9 floors away from my apartment and out of quarters so I’m crossing my fingers and walked back to the elevators with the dryer shouting behind me.

It struck me what an impossible task it must be to keep all seven of the dryers running at the same time.  I don’t think I have ever done laundry when at least one wasn’t out of order.  I try not to think about it.  It makes me want to call my apartment manager and take over the task.  There is something pleasant about the thought of all the dryers running in perfectly, quiet synchronicity.

This seems like a good time to tell you that only one of my armpits sweats.  I had forgotten about the phenomenon for quite some time.  I think I actuually was under the impression that I’d grown out of it sometime after high school.  For whatever reason, I noticed this afternoon when I got into my car and I was excited enough to blog about it.  This is the type of body abnormality that strikes its host with the inclination to believe they are the only one to have ever “suffered” from it.  I think the lone armpit may be an evolutionary response to the advent of Botox. 

XOXO

I have enough neurosis’ to make those around me who place a high value on sanity openly suggest I should get professional help.  This is not to say I am “crazy”.  But I will cop to a general lifestyle that has been infiltrated by OCD and neurotic tendencies to the point that it is openly noticeable.  My front door and household appliances tend to bring out my OCD, while my car tends to bring out my neurosis’.  Occasionally they cross paths, and it is that somewhat confusing juncture that I now find myself at.

It has been somewhat more recently (since I moved to LA) that my issues with the car started.  I am usually the one who drives when I go out with friends, and a girlfriend and I were driving home from a night out at the beach when she called a good friend from her hometown.  Ok, I’ve been drunk and chatty before.  No harm, no foul.  She then proceeded to put him on speakerphone and talk to him for the duration of the thirty minute drive.  The ambient light from the cell phone screen made my eyes feel like they were going to bleed, and the voice coming through the speaker sounded like nails on a chalkboard.  I have not been able to handle loud music (a previous car ride staple), speakerphone or ambient light in the car, and often in my apartment, ever since.

I’m sitting here typing this and the electronic music blasting from the stereo is enough to make me want to sit in my car on the freeway with four texting passengers instead.  It is a new phenomenon in my life not to be able to just tune something out, or more importantly to enjoy it.  I can’t help but wonder if I am mislabeling as a personality quirk something that is really hereditary because the more I dwell on it, the more I have flashbacks of my mother telling me to turn my music down to a barely audible level and not to use my flashlight in the car on nighttime road trips.

Good night and lights out! XoXo

I spent the better portion of my day in the car.  I had the task of driving someone 40 miles away to pick up a check in person from a producer who hired him a month ago.  This is not the first time I have done this.  My issue with the accounting standards in the adult industry is simply that, there isn’t any.  I have no problem with a producer booking talent for a scene and them paying them at a later date.  What I have an issue with is a producer booking talent for a scene they do not have the money in their bank account to cover and then paying them at a later date.  Added insult to injury is expecting that same performer to drive a great distance from “the Valley” close to a month later to collect said check.  Adding even further insult to injury is expecting this of a performer who does not have personal transportation and will therefore have to rely on another performer to assist in the entire debacle.  And then they have the further nerve to make lewd comments towards me (a somewhat innocent bystander) and try to bait me with possibly hiring me for a scene.  Do I look like the kind of girl you can talk dirty to and I’ll just fall all over you?  (Ok, fifty websites out there say I do).

Honestly, that entire last paragraph was me struggling to find a topic to write about.  Thank you for enduring my writer’s block and reading this far.  I have met a more varied and diverse group of personality types in this industry than I ever could have hope.  Yet, what defines the type of girl who would choose to have sex on camera for a living?  It’s a dichotomy of trying to find a balance between the type of person you really are and the type of person you portray on camera.  For me, way back since my stripping days, honesty is the only policy I can live with.  The only difference is that I downplay my sexuality in my personal life and conform fairly strictly to society’s standards of promiscuity.  Thankfully I can vent my perpetual sexual frustration periodically throughout the day, thanks to social networking sites and this blog.

Defining who someone really is takes more than a paragraph and more than a single blog entry.  That is part of why I decided to start writing this blog in the first place, and why I don’t just wrote the standard “this is what I did today” entry.  (I’m assuming you all can follow my Twitter feed and see the pics to stalk my daily activities.  Stalkers are very welcome, by the way).  I want to show you who I really am and I what I am really thinking.  I value my fans so much and I’m enjoying having this forum to show you the real me, a little bit at a time, but always completely honestly.

With that, I’m off to shower before I head to work tonight where I will ponder a better topic for tomorrow.

Hugs and Kisses!

It is a rare thing when I come home from a shoot and I am truly excited to see the images, the video and the reactions from my wonderful fans to them all.  Today was one of those rare occasions.  Mason (not of Elegant Angel, but of Dollhouse Productions) was shooting in a swanky hotel in West Hollywood that made me want to gag upon handing my keys to the stuffy valets.  There is something about shooting in a hotel that always makes me feel a bit like a hooker, so I was a bit on edge as I entered the eerily quiet lobby.  That all changed when I entered the hotel room and met Mason.

Mason was playing a combination of Marilyn Manson (who was also hanging from a thumb tack next to the mini bar) and other musicians who sound so similar to him that I have already forgotten the names requested by the makeup artist.  He was making a smoothie and wore black nail polish on his toes.  I thought he might be gay from his mannerisms… and I was wrong.

I was booked to do a set of stills and an R-rated strip tease for cable.  I was unprepared for my vampy makeup and wild hairdo.  I looked like I could be one tour with one of the bands he was playing in the background.  He put me in a ballerina outfit and a bathtub decorated with gas masks.  I think I fell in love with one of the gas masks, and he took photos that can only be described as art as I fondled them.  He ran bubbles in my bath and let me splash around with my wildly inappropriate heels on.  He let me hold the camera and blow bubbles at the lens.  Finally, he let me masturbate with one of the aforementioned gas masks on.  I was ecstatic.

I’m home and walking on a cloud (a dark, mysterious, otherworldly cloud, but a cloud nonetheless).  I can’t wait to see what we shot to day.  And the saint is giving me a copy so I can’t wait to show you all, as well.

Hugs and Kisses!

I have never described myself as a spiritual person. In some ways, blogging used to be my form of creativity and spiritual self-exploration. I’ve been searching for a project I could blog about since I started writing this blog about my foray into porn. (I’ve also watched “Julie and Julia” one too many times, and was probably the only person in America who would call the movie an event that was moving and inspiring…. or maybe not. Either way, my foray into a blog regarding a pornstar who learns to cook lasted two days and zero recipes).

Essentially, I am in desperate need of a hobby more fulfilling than school, work and twitter. That is essentially what has sparked my interest in learning to play the guitar, Spanish and Bikram yoga. The Bikram yoga has turned into and obsession, but after deciding I need to get my certification it only partly counts as a hobby and partly a commitment to the study of the practice.

I write the majority of my blogs with my rodent-like dog snuggled in my lap. She has a tendency to taunt my cat which prompts him to jump onto the middle of my keyboard mid-sentence. Scratch blogging off the list of relaxing activities thanks to the animals I’ve obtained for the purpose of procuring a relaxing and loving relationship with something living that does not not or ever will in the future speak.

Irony has become the core of most of my blogs, as of late. I love irony. It is one of the few things I truly love… unfortunately an interest in irony hardly counts as a hobby either.

I started writing this blog with the intent to explore a discussion I had earlier regarding spirituality and karma, however, I am going to leave it for another day and go pick up a pointless, mundane but thoroughly entertaining novel and call it a night.

XOXO