Graffiti and the Storm Tunnels of Vegas

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In the shadow of the Stratosphere, by Jim K. Decker

Everyone knows hot babes look best when juxtaposed against rusty shacks, railroad tracks and desert cracks — you learn that shit in Glamour Photography 101. And you can’t browse Vegas portfolios for two seconds without tripping over red rocks, Joshua trees and busted-up airplanes down at the fake ghost town near Nelson; I think it has something to do with the contrast between succulent flesh and a parched, withered landscape. Youth vs. decay…or something like that.

In any event, there’s one more tired and true trope that belongs in every serious fauxteur’s portfolio: graffiti. Every model worth her salt has at least one or two shots humping a cinderblock wall covered in the neon scribblings of some half-witted cholo…it’s practically a requirement to join Model Mayhem! To that end, photographers and models are always asking me where there’s good graffiti in Vegas…so, ever amenable, following are some of my favorite graffiti locations in the area.

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Rock-A-Hoola waterpark, by Kelly Garn

Hands down, the best graffiti I have personally ever seen in the area was at the abandoned Rock-A-Hoola waterpark, down near Barstow. It’s a 2-hour-plus drive to get there, but what a goldmine!! Tons of colorfully painted abandoned buildings, all covered in scathing commentary and thought-provoking slogans; I like my graffiti with a message, and this place definitely satisfies, thanks to an NYC-based crew called Trust-O-Corp. Great job, guys!!!

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Rock-A-Hoola waterpark, by Kelly Garni

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Rock-A-Hoola waterpark, by Shutterbug-Studio

 

I shot at this location twice, both times in December 2013, and the results were so fan-fucking-tastic that there’s no way I can post them all here. If interested, you can see many more here, here (if you’re on Facebook), and here (if you’re a Model Mayhem member).

Unfortunately, since I shot there, investors have stepped in with plans to reopen the waterpark…and there’s heavier security on duty these days, making it impractical to sneak in for tasteful Art nudes. And anyway, another artist who goes by Aware. has since come in and covered a lot of the cool, colorful graffiti with shitty black Olde-English lettering…so the place isn’t nearly as amazing as it was before. Nothing gold can stay!

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Wheel of Misfortune, by Shutterbug-Studio

Speaking of Aware., I can’t hold his crappy work at Rock-A-Hoola against him because he also created one of THE most amazing graffiti pieces I’ve ever seen, anywhere — the Wheel of Misfortune, right outside town near Lake Las Vegas. I just shot there/blogged about it the other week, so I won’t repeat myself too much…but it’s awesome. A giant, 100-foot circular cement holding tank from an abandoned magnesium mine has been repainted to look like the wheel from TV’s Wheel of Fortune game show…but instead of saying things like “LOSE A TURN” and “BANKRUPT,” the stripes all say shit like “LOSE A HOME” and “BANK-OWNED” — a reflection on our recent local housing crisis. Plus, all the dollar values are $000. Awesome!

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Wheel of Misfortune, by Shutterbug-Studio

The only shitty thing about shooting here, aside from the myriad “NO TRESPASSING” signs and an abundance of possibly carcinogenic black soot all over everything, is the scale — the Wheel is so huge that it’s tough to get the full scope of it in a photo where you can still make out the model. In my experience, unless you zoom in and just capture bits and pieces, it ends up looking like an adult version of “Where’s Waldo?”

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Near the Wheel of Misfortune, by Shutterbug-Studio

 

But if you zoom in, you can get some pretty cool shots that still convey the idea. Moreover, there are other circular basins nearby with tons of other colorful, marginally cool graffiti on the walls and stuff….so the Wheel is not your only option.

 

 

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In the Arts District, by Jim K. Decker

Now, if all this carcinogenic soot and trespassing is too rich for your blood, you can always just be a puss and head down to the Arts District in downtown Las Vegas — the general area around Charleston Blvd. and Main Street has a lot of pretty cool stuff painted on the walls of the various buildings and warehouses in the area. The only bummer with shooting down there is, you’re in full sight of any Looky-Lous or homeless winos who happen by…and sometimes the pedestrian traffic down there can be pretty heavy. So if you or your model are shy, be advised! Also, for that same reason, the graffiti in the Arts District isn’t really ideal for shooting nudes…UNLESS….

 

 

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Downtown Las Vegas, by Shutterbug-Studio

…your name happens to be Wonderhussy, and your m.o. is IDGAF! In that case, blast away, as I did this past February, when I went cruising around downtown Vegas in a pair of high heels and a satin robe, with which I covered my shame until the photographer was ready to go. BAM! I dropped the robe, he got the shot, I threw the robe back around me and we were in the car, on our way to the next stop, before anyone knew what hit ‘em.

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Downtown Las Vegas, by Shutterbug-Studio

I think it was a weekday afternoon around 4pm when we did these, and we hit about 5 or 6 different locations, both in the Arts District and then further north along Stewart Ave. in Downtown Vegas, where a bunch of super-cool murals were commissioned for the Life Is Beautiful festival last October. We got WAY too many amazing shots to post here, but if interested you can see more here (must be a Model Mayhem member to view).

If you aren’t doing nudes, I don’t think shooting at the LIB murals would be a problem…aside from the aforementioned passing winos and Looky-Lous. Just drive down Stewart Ave. between like 6th and 10th, and take your pick! There’s plenty of street parking, and a 75% likelihood that your car won’t be broken into and your gear stolen. Don’t be a wuss!

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Vagina Dentata! Pic by Flash Adams, body paint by Suzanne Lugano

Finally, if you’re REALLY not a wuss, and don’t mind risking an encounter with a methed-out homeless hooker’s icepick shank…check out one of my other all-time favorite local graffiti spots, located far beneath the Vegas Strip in the network of storm drain tunnels that cris-cross the city below the surface.

These tunnels were built to channel flash flood waters into Lake Mead — many don’t realize that Vegas gets monsoonal thunderstorms in the summertime, when the sky cracks open and massive amounts of water comes pelting down on the sunbaked desert, which is unable to absorb it all quickly enough, creating hazardous flash flooding. Before the tunnels were built, parking garages on the Strip used to flood all the time, and peoples’ cars would bang into each other like floating bumper cars. It was insane!

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In another, less-graffitied storm tunnel, by Iancentric (with Fearra LaCome)

Nowadays, the tunnels channel all that rainwater safely into the various area washes, where it eventually flows down into Lake Mead. But on the 360 days a year when it’s not pouring rain, these tunnels have become a permanent shelter for a vast underground population of homeless people seeking cover from the blazing desert sun. A guy I know explored the tunnels extensively, and wrote a book about his experiences interviewing all the various kooks who live down there — check it out! It’s really interesting.

As far as a photo location, these tunnels are somewhat challenging. Aside from the icepick-wielding meth-heads, it’s also SUPER dark down there, requiring lights and other expensive gear that might potentially be appropriated by said meth-heads. The tunnels can also be kinda stinky, and are said to be home to giant cockroaches, crawdads, rats and other subterranean sewer-dwellers. But if you can get past all that, they’re an awesome place to shoot, with some pretty killer graffiti!

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All kinds of nasty sewer-dwellers in these tunnels! Pic by Iancentric, with Fearra LaCome

I only shot down there once, a few years ago in the dead of winter — so there were no cockroaches or crawdads, just bitter, bone-chilling cold. Even worse, we shot at night, to better avoid detection when we entered the tunnels by way of a wash near the Rio Hotel…so it was extra cold. And even worse, I couldn’t even really wear a robe or sweater or anything, because I had been bodypainted to look like a crazed post-apocalyptic sewer dweller with monsters on my nipples and teeth on my vagina (this was the only time anyone’s ever bodypainted my labia and clitoris…kudos to you, Suzanne Lugano).

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More Arts District graffiti, by Shutterbug Studio

To his credit, the photographer did what he could to make the experience more pleasant for me — he brought along a wagon full of lights, a propane heater and even a boombox so we could listen to music while we shot. He also brought along a second shooter, who, along with the bodypainter, sort of stood guard to make sure no crazy people came up on us from either direction. We must have resembled some kind of far-out Dungeons & Dragons/Goonies adventure party as we set out with our wagon full of gear, the photographer leading the way with a propane lantern, taking us ever deeper into the tunnel until we reached the spot he had scouted out the day before. All in all, we probably trekked about 1/4 mile into the tunnel — where it was pitch fucking black in either direction. Not for the claustrophobic!!

Anyway, the shoot proceeded without incident, and we ended up getting a killer photo out of it, so it was definitely worthwhile. But even if we hadn’t gotten any good photos, I would still have enjoyed the shit out of it…because talk about an adventure! People don’t realize it, but I’m actually only 25% model, 75% adventuress. In my book, half the time the journey IS the destination….ya know? So if you ever want to hit up any of these (or other, as-yet-undiscovered locations)……

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Have truck, will model!

YOU KNOW WHO TO CALL!

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Nobody Comes Here For Enlightenment

Out of all the wacky gigs I do to pay the bills, one of my hands-down favorites is working for my friend’s concierge pranking service, as a planted actor. This company specializes in fucking with people in a spectacularly theatrical fashion: want some random wacko to throw a pie in your buddy’s face? What about a case of mistaken identity involving a transvestite hooker and an alcoholic circus clown? Hiring this service to prank your friends ensures that your Vegas vacation will end up being something truly memorable…instead of just another vodka-, cologne- and puke-soaked fist-pump-a-thon.

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Prepping for a piss prank

I know this sounds like a paid ad, but it’s really true: I freaking love this company’s concept, and I love working for them as a planted actor. Call me bitter, but there is something so satisfying about fucking with the self-absorbed nouveau-riche douchebags who frequent Vegas. I can’t get enough!!

I hadn’t participated in any pranks in quite a while, due to scheduling conflicts…but last week, I had the pleasure of taking part in two of them! The first was one of the most popular packages: the classic and universally beloved piss prank, in which a flirty actress shows up, gets drunk, and “pisses” on the prankee (of course, it’s not real pee…just water trickling through an elaborately rigged apparatus). Sometimes it’s a Vegas showgirl who does the pissing, and sometimes a stereotypical bottle-rat nightclub party girl.

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Blondie at work, disarming the victim

In this instance, the client was a group of well-heeled East Asian lads from London, in town for a bachelor party….and the pissing was to take place poolside, in their cabana at one of the dayclubs. I happened to be available, so me and my friend Blondie headed over to WOW Beach (not its real name) to execute the prank.

 

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pissing on a bachelor

Of course, the pissee in this instance was the bachelor — his buddies had set it all up without his knowledge, and every single guy in the group of 10 was in on it except for him. So my job was fairly easy — just show up in an intricately rigged bikini, play drunk and stupid, ingratiate myself with the group, get invited into their cabana, have a couple drinks, get friendly with the bachelor, straddle him as if I were about to demonstrate a Genuine Vegas Lap Dance™…. and then let ‘er rip!

BOOM — 500 cc’s of body-temperature water, trickling from my bikini bottom all over his swim trunks. Shock, horror, and laughter ensues….as Blondie and I scuttle away in mock shame, leaving the bachelor dabbing furiously at his soiled board shorts with a napkin as his buddies collapse in hysterics nearby. GOOD TIMES!!!!

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Ooops…OMG I’m so sorry!!

You really can’t go wrong with the piss prank — it’s a classic for a reason, and as mentioned, there are many different scenarios under which it can be pulled off. But sometimes, a client wants a bit more….as was the case earlier in the week, when I was assigned to play a nefarious hooker.

This was a more intricate prank, involving 6 or 7 actors over the course of two nights (if you have the cash, the service will work with you to plan a more elaborate prank…otherwise, you can choose from their set menu of a la carte pranks). In this scenario, a guy was setting up his ex-college-roommate, who happened to be in town with six or seven other friends for his bachelor party. The whole group was supposed to go to one of those dumb machine-gun ranges…but fortunately, our client had the good sense to spend their budget on this prank, instead. MUCH more fun!!

The first night, it was arranged that our client and his buddy, the unwitting bachelor, would come into a bar at Planet Hollywood…where they would encounter my character, a common Strip hooker sitting at the bar nursing a fake cocktail. Our client was tipped off to what I was wearing, so when they came in, he steered his buddy straight over to where I was seated. We struck up a conversation, I “took a liking” to the client…and after 15 minutes or so, I invited him to come with me to “buy cigarettes.”

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Something similar to what I wore as my hooker costume

The two of us disappeared for another 15 minutes or so, reappearing with mussed hair and lipstick marks on the client’s neck…as if I had just taken him to my minivan on the roof of the parking garage and had sex with him (really we just went around the corner and sat there bullshitting for 15 minutes….the guy was cool as fuck!). When we came back into the bar, his buddy (the bachelor) was still sitting there waiting for us…and when we reached him, I tapped the client on the arm: “Hey, are you going to the ATM, or what? I need my money….I have another call at the Venetian in 15 minutes.”

“What?” The client played dumb, pretending to assume we had just shared a spontaneous “What-Happens-In-Vegas” freebie tryst. As if!!! After badgering him for the money for a few minutes, I “gave up” and went across the bar to where another actor was planted — an ominous-looking big, bald guy in a pimp suit, and pretended to confer with him, shooting angry glances over at the client and his buddy every now and then.

Finally, I followed my “pimp” back across the room, hanging back as he confronted the client: “Hey, pal. You know how this works. Pay my girl, or my people are gonna get really upset.”

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Unrelated shot of the legendary Sneakapeekapuss
pic by Dead Clown Studios

Of course the client (who was in on all this, remember) stammers indignantly that he doesn’t owe me anything, that nothing of the sort was discussed. Meanwhile, his buddy (the unwitting bachelor) is looking on, half bemused and half nervous. This guy really fell for the whole shtick — it was awesome!!

Anyway, they keep arguing back and forth until finally the client “chokes up” $100 – way less than the actual cost of doing business with a fine hooker like me. This infuriates my pimp, and he jams the $100 bill back in the client’s pocket, ominously intoning that he has other ways of getting his money back…and then saunters off, me in tow.

This all went down on a Wednesday night — apparently, after we left, the client and his buddy got out of there pretty quick, with the buddy assuming that it wasn’t safe for them to hang out at Planet Hollywood for the remainder of their vacation, because some random pimp had it in for them. LOL! They spent the next couple of days partying at other Vegas hotels, and on Friday were joined by the rest of their posse, for their big blowout night on the town.

After drinking at a bar downtown all evening, the plan was for everyone to come back to the hotel room for a little in-room stripper service before going out to one of the nightclubs. But before the group headed back, the client (who was the only one in the group who was in on the prank) sneaked back to the hotel room ahead of time….where the rest of us were waiting to set up the big finale.

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Who, me?

When his buddies all finally made it back to the room, they were confronted by two ginormous thug-type bouncers, who ushered them in and instructed them to pay attention; that this was a serious situation. At first all they saw was me, in my hooker costume, smoking and looking pissed off on the bed, which was bloodstained and covered in bloody medical tools. Of course, none of them recognized me except for the bachelor, who remembered me from Wednesday night and visibly blanched…especially when my “pimp” came storming out of the bathroom, stabbing his finger into the bachelor’s chest: “You little shit; remember I told you I’d get my money? Well, you have exactly 15 minutes to get your buddy to a hospital. As soon as I leave, you better haul ass!!”

Then, another actor in blood-soaked scrubs comes rushing out of the bathroom, stuffing gear and gauze and a mysterious bloody glob packed in ice into his briefcase: “Let’s get out of here!!” We hurry out of the room, followed by the pimp and the bodyguards…and then the bachelor and his boys enter the bathroom to find their buddy (the client) with his ribcage wrapped in gauze, sitting in a bath tub full of ice. SURPRISE!!!!! By this time, they know it’s a joke….and when, at the client’s urging, they peel back the gauze on his ribs……there’s no wound at all, just a message written in Sharpie: “YOU’VE BEEN PLAYED! LAS VEGAS THE GAME.” LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL!!!!!

After the big reveal, we all went back into the room for a hearty laugh — the bachelor was absolutely delighted, saying he’d figured something was up tonight…but that he had completely believed the Wednesday night story, and had been afraid to go to Planet Hollywood ever since. All in all the prank was a great success, and the guys all agreed that it was much more entertaining than shooting dumbass machine guns. Winning!!!

So, a good time was had by all….although one of the guys in their group, who resembled nothing so much as a red-faced rapist Kennedy cousin, apparently was so drunk/confused that he thought I was an actual prostitute, and kept asking for my number…as if I really turned tricks in a MoBro (that’s mobile brothel, a/k/a minivan on the roof of the parking garage). For reals?!?

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wine tasting in Pahrump

But even worse than the feeling of being mistaken for a hooker was the feeling I got from pretending to be a hooker. Oddly enough, my mom happened to be in town that day with a friend…and earlier that same afternoon, we had all gone out to Pahrump, to taste some wines at the Pahrump Valley Winery, after which we decided to head over to Sheri’s Ranch, one of the legal brothels in the area.

As you may or may not know, prostitution is actually legal in Nevada — but only in counties with populations fewer than 200,000, which means Clark County (wherein lies Vegas) is out. The closest county to have legalized prostitution is Nye County….home to the dusty, nondescript redneck town of Pahrump, about 60 miles northwest of Vegas, just over the county line. So you can bet your sweet bippy that there are a couple of really nice brothels in Pahrump, as close to Vegas as legally allowable.

Of these brothels, one of them — Sheri’s Ranch — has an extraordinarily open policy of allowing any and all looky-Lous onto their premises, where you can enjoy drinks and lunch in the sports bar, and even get a tour of the full facilities from one of the girls, if you want. I’ve had lunch there and taken the tour a few times, and have always enjoyed it and been truly fascinated by the mechanics of the place — it’t a legit business!!! So when my mom’s friend wanted to go check it out, I was all for it.

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I’ll have to class up my hooker shtick…
photo by Alejandro Cerdeña

As with my previous visits, we sat at the bar and enjoyed a drink while waiting for the next available working woman to come give us a tour — and when she arrived, she was everything you would not expect a prostitute to be: tall, blonde, truly attractive, flawless complexion, intelligent, well-spoken and polite. In other words…..the exact opposite of my rough caricature of a hooker in Las Vegas: The Game.

She gave us a tour of the facilities: the parlour where the client sits to choose from the lineup, the jacuzzi room, the Budweiser room (Sheri’s is the only brothel in the world with a corporate sponsor), the Fancy Restaurant Room (because of strict STD testing rules, while working, the prostitutes aren’t allowed to leave the premises…so if a client wants to take them to dinner, they do it in this little fake restaurant room, with linen tablecloth and fine china and a sign on the sideboard reading “CONDOMS MANDATORY AT ALL TIMES,” and a pillow on the floor by the man’s chair “for dessert”). It’s far out!

There’s also a gym and a volleyball court and a pool and a rec room, plus a row of dorm rooms where the working girls live and do their business while onsite…and there’s even an S&M dungeon, where particularly naughty clients are taken by the women who are professionally trained Dommes — as was our tour guide (!). I was just getting ready to ask her 1,000 questions about her experiences as a Domme, when the little red light that’s on the ceiling of every room in the building started flashing: “Girls, we have a lineup! All ladies report to the parlor immediately. Girls, we have a lineup!”

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To the lineup!!
photo by Alejandro Cerdeña

Now, when those red lights start flashing, every woman on duty at the whorehouse has to drop whatever she’s doing — even if she’s in the shower, washing her hair, as was once the case — and hurry into the parlour for the lineup, when they all parade in front of the customer so he can choose who he likes. So, when the light started flashing in the middle of our tour, that meant the tour was cut short :-/ Our guide had to go. D’oh!!!

Our guide hurried down a hallway to get in line with the other girls, and the madame ushered us out quickly…through the parlour, where a salivating Asian man was sitting on the ornate faux-Victorian sofa, rubbing his hands together in glee (OK, he probably wasn’t…I don’t know, I didn’t want to be rude by staring at him, so I’m not sure what he was doing). And just like that, we were back out in the bright Pahrump sunshine….and back into our car for the trip back to Vegas, where in a few short hours’ time I would be getting dressed up in my hooker costume for part II of the kidney prank.

But as I was getting dressed that night, I felt kinda shitty. My idea of a “hooker outfit” was a short, tight black minidress and thigh-high Pretty Woman boots, with giant hoop earrings, smudged makeup and sky-high teased hair — Central Casting, always good for a laff. I thought back to our tour guide from that afternoon, Olivia — and in a way, it felt like I was disrespecting her.

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In flagrante!
Photo by Alejandro Cerdeña

On the tour, we had all been careful to be polite, and not come across as judgy with our questions and preconceived notions about what her life and work were about. I have zero reservations about prostitution — it’s not for me personally, but I feel there is nothing wrong with it as a way of making a living, and in fact I’d argue that prostitution is genuinely necessary for the functioning of our society. Prostitutes fill a basic need — not just for pervs and frustrated men who aren’t getting any, but for paraplegics and shy virgins and those who prefer to skip the expensive complications of a “real” relationship. As I understand it, men have to get their rocks off….and Lord knows don’t want to service most of ‘em. So why begrudge a less finicky woman for making a buck? Yet, here I was…playing a hooker for cheap laffs. Hmmm.

The issue did weigh on me, and I did feel like a bit of a hypocrite….but guess what? I still did it, to make a buck…and also because these pranks are just so much freaking fun! How could I let a thing like ethics stand in my way of getting one over on some East Coast frat boys?!?!?! Answer: I couldn’t!

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Photo by Alejandro Cerdeña

But interestingly, the quandary isn’t mine alone — my friend who runs the pranking business had a similar revelation a couple months ago. He was walking home shirtless from his CrossFit class, though a semi-seedy section of downtown Vegas, when a woman in an SUV pulled up short to holla at him (my friend cuts a very striking figure, being one of the most hirsute and razor-averse people I’ve ever known, and stands out in any crowd due in equal parts to his fit physique and his coat of rust-colored fur).

After chatting with this woman in the street for 20 minutes or so, he learned that she was a massage therapist…so he invited her up to his high-rise condo to give him a massage. She set up her table and everything in his condo, and proceeded to give him a thoroughly legit massage…but there was still an air of illicitness about the whole thing, which intensified when the woman finished the massage, and crawled up onto the massage table to lay beside him.

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Photo by DjwB

Here’s the part where, in the typical Vegas narrative, this woman who picked him up on the street and wormed her way into his high-rise condo would give him a happy ending — right??

Well, imagine my friend’s surprise when, instead of reaching for his junk, the woman instead simply wrapped her arms around him and enveloped him in a long, warm hug. A real happy ending! It was so totally unexpected, so sweet and un-seedy, that it totally threw him for a loop….and made him think about things in a different light.

Like, what if there were a way he could turn his pranks around at the end, so that instead of just laff-fests involving broadly-painted stereotypes of loose women embarrassing themselves by fucking guys in minivans and pissing all over themselves…they somehow turned the tables and ended up oddly touching the victim’s emotions in an unexpected way? What if people came home from Vegas having had a great time with a real happy ending, without having simply debased themselves and/or others in the process?? Wouldn’t that be nice???

Alas, however, after having thought about it for awhile, and having asked me for any ideas I might have….my friend and I both came to the realization that real happy endings aren’t a profitable business model; party bros simply won’t pay for that shit. Nobody comes to Vegas for a revelation; nobody comes here for enlightenment. The only fuzzy thing around these parts is a Navel…and that’s just the way it is.

 

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I’m an Artist, Dammit!

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pic by Dano

It’s a common misconception around some parts that I am a prostitute. And if you don’t know me, I can kinda understand why you might think that: I rent myself out by the hour, I get naked for cash, and I’ve been in more Vegas hotel rooms than even the most prolific hooker. But what people don’t understand is that I’m an Artist…and I’m just helping guys create Art!

OK, sometimes it’s even hard for me to believe that — as when, checking my email the other day, I was confronted with a closeup of my hairy anus, shot from a devious angle by an overzealous photographer with a hyperactive zoom lens. (For the love of Dog, WHY? If I intended to shoot that type of content, I would at least have the decency to tweeze, shave and/or bleach it!)

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It’s all Art, right down to the tampon string inadvertently dangling from my twat
pic by Photo Phantasia

But the truth is, “Art” is subjective…and means different things to different people. It’s not all black-and-white nudes reclining on rocks — sometimes it’s topless Secret Service agents with thigh-high stockings, lace garter belts and no panties. Highbrow, lowbrow, nobrow…who the hell am I to judge? The last thing I want is to come off like Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart, whose definition of obscenity was “I know it when I see it.” I’m just a naked ninny with a B.A. from a shitty state university, and I’ll freely admit: I don’t know shit!

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James Turell’s Akhob
Photo Credit: Florian Holzherr

But I do know what I like…and I’ve seen some far-out stuff lately! First, a friend tipped me off to this amazing ganzfeld installation by the Artist James Turell that has been quietly lurking on the 4th floor of the Louis Vuitton store in the Crystals shopping mall for the past two years. I had no idea this amazing installation was there, because a) I abhor that pretentious mall and all it stands for, and avoid it like the plague…and b) I can’t even afford to breathe the air in a Louis Vuitton store! But this I had to see, so I called ahead to make an appointment (it’s free, but you have to make an appointment as it’s a 20-minute private viewing experience).

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Looking back toward the entrance to the ganzfeld
Photo courtesy Louis Vuitton

Oh holy hell!! This was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!!! Basically, a ganzfeld is a giant seamless chamber uniformly backlit by colored light, with white noise piped in via hidden speakers…so that when you enter, it’s like stepping into a void, and you lose all sense of up/down/left/right. Pilots sometimes experience the same disorienting effect when flying thru clouds, and in fact you can recreate the effect yourself with some headphones and a ping pong ball cut in half, placed over your eyes while you stare at a bright light.

But why take the poor man’s route when I have this fabulous hi-class version awaiting me right down the street?? I took a deep breath and set foot into the rarefied atmosphere of the Louis Vuitton store, where a series of impeccably groomed saleswomen led me to an elevator that goes up to the secret 4th floor, which was just empty storage before Turell’s exhibit went in. I had to sign a release and put on these weird surgical booties, and then these two young chicks dressed all in white, kinda like sexy Oompa Loompas, led me into this dark, silent chamber, where you climb a set of stairs to enter the ganzfeld (as seen in the first photo).

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they don’t allow photography in the Louis Vuitton ganzfeld, so I took this at the tram station, which also has a Turell installation, albeit way less cool

It was amazing!! Ideally, to experience the full effect of the ganzfeld you want to go alone, so there is no one/nothing in your peripheral vision, interrupting the void…and you want to go as far forward toward the front as possible, just short of the six-foot drop at the end. That way, your whole field of perception is filled with uniformly glowing color and humming white noise — far out!! My only complaint was that one of the Oompa Loompas stays in the chamber with you the whole time, watching that you don’t accidentally fall off the six-foot ledge…and I could see her in my peripheral vision the whole time, so it sort of fucked up the void effect; I had to avert my gaze to the right, which meant I could see some of the wall seam and the little alarm where the 6-foot drop is. Stupid liability!!!!!!

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also at the tram station installation

Anyway, the full cycle takes 20 minutes, and then you have the option of touring the rest of the art pieces on display in the Louis Vuitton store. These turned out to be located mostly in little private salons where the über-wealthy shop via concierge service, hidden from the main floor and all the hoi polloi. If you weren’t a one-percenter, you’d never get to see this fabulous shit…which is pretty sad, in a way :-/ Still…as elitist and bullshit as it may be, I have to give Louis Vuitton props for making this amazing Art available to the public…even unrefined broke-ass hacks like me. Anyone can call 702-730-3150 and make an appointment to see it!

If, however, the idea of strutting into the Louis Vuitton stores freaks you out/makes you sick/violates your populist principles….don’t worry; I also just discovered some even badder-asser Art out in the desert, that’s also free to experience — all you have to do is gas up your car and ignore a few No Trespassing signs!

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old magnesium slurry basin

My friend Tatiana tipped me off to this old abandoned magnesium mine out on the furthest reaches of Henderson, near the bankrupt nouveau-riche enclave of Lake Las Vegas, where there are all these ginormous, circular basins where I guess they used to rinse off the magnesium or whatever. These concrete basins are probably about half a football field in diameter, and most of them are just decaying away in the desert heat, dotted with shitty graffiti and strewn with litter and filth.

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the Wheel of Misfortune by Aware.

But this bad-ass graffiti artist who goes by the name Aware. sneaked in one day and painted one of the basins in the way back to look like a giant Wheel of Fortune, like from the TV show! Only, instead of it being a regular Wheel of Fortune wheel with stripes reading “BANKRUPT” and “LOSE A TURN…” this is the Wheel of MISfortune, and the stripes say shit like “BANK OWNED,” “LOSE A HOME,” LOSE A JOB,” and “LOSE ALL HOPE.” Plus, all the dollar values are $000! I guess it’s supposed to be a statement of sorts on the whole housing/economic meltdown….which makes it particularly awesome that it’s located right across the street from broke-ass, poseur-ass Lake Las Vegas. HA!!!!!

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LOSE ALL HOPE by Aware.

Anyway, I hiked out here one afternoon with Tatiana to check it out, was completely blown away, and then came back a week later with my friend Shutterbug Studio to make some tasteful Art of my own — a mixed-media masterpiece involving my Ass and my Twat. I sincerely hope the original Artist isn’t offended! (I’m a fan of Aware.’s work for the most part, but come to find out he’s the one who covered up the supercool Trust-O-Corp graffiti in the abandoned waterpark with shitty black Olde English lettering, so I can’t endorse him 100%.)

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Google Earth screenshot showing Wheel of Misfortune

Apparently, you can see the Wheel of Misfortune from airplanes coming into Vegas — it would be out the righthand side of the plane, just past Lake Mead and due south of Lake Las Vegas. If you’re flying into town, be on the lookout! But if you want to check it out on foot, in person, be advised: there are NO TRESPASSING signs everywhere, and the place is really gross and dirty, and probably contaminated with all kinds of horrible stuff…..in short, just about as hazardous as venturing into that doucher-ass Louis Vuitton store, so choose your poison!!

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Preparing to make some serious Art at a shoot at Cosmopolitan

Anyway, I’m all for appreciating the Art of others, but to pay the bills I gots to make Art of my own, ya know? Toward that end, I did a third photo shoot with this amazing photographer from the Bay Area out in Tecopa, near Death Valley — this is the same guy I shot with/shroomed with before, but he keeps hiring me because he’s working on an absolutely amazing project, which unfortunately I can’t give you the details of yet, because it really is so amazingly bad ass that he’s waiting to finish the series before releasing it to the public. All I can say is, these are among the coolest and most technically amazing photos for which I’ve ever bared my ass, and I can’t wait to share them with you!

Anyway, we stayed in a cabin at Delight’s Hot Springs resort this time, which has always been my favorite resort out there — I love the charmingly busted-up old cinderblock cabins they rent out, and the vibe is just overall sort of Bonnie-and-Clyde-meets-the-Apocalypse. The cabin we rented on this trip, however, was super busted up — it must have been one of the oldest ones on the property, and it was honestly pretty shitty…so be advised, and stay away from cabin #2!! I still recommend the rest of the property, though.

Our plan for this trip was to shoot two nights in a row, in the wee hours of the morning. The first night, we shot from 3am-5am, then went back and slept all day in the air conditioned cabin. The second day, we intended to shoot from midnight-2am…..but after a delicious lunch at Pastel’s Bistro and some after-dinner mushroom truffles, we got so totally zonked that we ended up pissing away the entire night laying out by the mudhole, staring at the stars and talking commie philosophy with some crazy poet in a bathrobe. FAR OUT!!! We’re actually going back next week to do another session — this photographer had never shot a nude model before, so he was pretty nervous the first couple of shoots, and really only hit his stride the third time…but then was derailed by mushrooms. So next time, I’m not bringing any distractions….it’s gonna be all about Art!!!

Speaking of nude photos, I also did a two-day shoot for this new website, Diverxity.com, that’s sort of an alternative to Model Mayhem…only porn-ier, and viewable by anyone — not just models and photographers (on Model Mayhem, only members can view the nude photos). I guess the idea is, models sign up and post explicit nude photos, and then anyone who wants to can sign up for a membership to view them — you don’t have to be a photographer. Well, I’m pretty square when it comes to shooting erotic/adult-type content (I don’t do it, so please don’t ask), but I’m friends with one of the guys who launched the site…so I agreed to be part of their first-ever group photo shoot, on location in fabulous Las Vegas.

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Models

This was a really cool idea — six or seven photographers signed up and paid who knows how much for two full days shooting a pool of eight models, one day at a rental house, and the second day out in the desert. Everyone took turns shooting with each photographer, and it was a pretty diverse group of models, as you can see from the photo…so everyone got a variety of shots.

 

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Just hanging around
pic by Dead Clown Studios

The house we shot in on the first day was nothing special, just an AirBnB rental squatting in the shadow of the freeway…but the desert locations we visited on the second day were amazing, and provided endless opportunities to create amazing Art. We hit the dry lakebed, a Joshua tree forest, some railroad tracks, a lonely desert road and then this fabulous rocky outcropping that had some kind of WWII memorial in the form of a cross at the top, that provided for a really cool backdrop. All in all it was a really fun day, and it fired me up about finally getting the Goddess Collective going!

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The Goddess Collective

The whole reason we started the Goddess Collective was so that we could arrange group shoots like that — the Collective membership is now up to 6 or 7 high-quality, mostly untattooed, all-natural Art models, and between us we know a shit ton of fantastic locations out here in the desert. All we need is a van and 3-5 photographers, and we could totally help satisfy the Art needs of the entire planet! We need to get on this!!

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Mister Tony ad his Audi

But meanwhile, I have other fish to fry — crazy psychedelic German performance Artist fish!! I was recently approached by a local wacky personality/singer/performance Artist by the name of Mister Tony, who wants me to be a part of his act by driving him around L.A. in a giant psychedelic hearse, while he lays in a Plexiglas coffin in the back, with his EDM tracks blaring from the external sound system, with the goal of attracting the attention of record labels out there. HOW COULD I SAY NO TO THAT?!

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The Happy Hearse

Mister Tony’s story is actually really interesting. A few years back he was just another German automotive engineer toiling away at the BMW plant in Spartanburg, South Carolina…but then he got laid off, his dog died and his wife left him, all of which led to a meltdown/epiphany: he wasn’t meant to be an engineer, he was born to dance!!! So he spent his severance pay on a bunch of electric-acid-Kool-Aid-colored pimp suits and a hearse with a $20,000 psychedelic paint job, and moved to Vegas to become a superstar!

I first met him back when I worked at a nightclub — he goes out every single night, making the scene and getting his name and face out there. Back then he gave me a copy of his CD, which is a bunch of EDM-type dance tracks with titles like “Please Mister Tony” and “The Happy Hearse,” and I was totally blown away. It was like Dieter’s Dance Party crossed with Austin Powers and maybe a dash of Kraftwerk — intense!! So when he approached me recently to be a part of his act, you can see why I said yes.

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Out on the town with Mister Tony

I guess he feels like he’s milked the Vegas market long enough, and now it’s time to move up to the big leagues — i.e. go to L.A. and try to get a record company to finance a music video, which he is certain will go viral a la Gangnam Style, making him famous and wealthy in the process. He offered me an 80-20 split if I go with him as his chauffeur, driving this fuckin’ hearse up and down Sunset Blvd. or whatever…but he also wants me to be part of the act!!

During his darkest hours in South Carolina, when rednecks were beating him up as he tried to perform in the clubs out there, a dark side to his personality emerged, telling him he wasn’t good enough, that he should give up, etc. But rather than give in to this self-doubt, he gave his dark side a name and a character– Evil Tony! Evil Tony can’t stand the fact that Mister Tony goes around spreading happiness and the joy of dance, so he sends his secret weapon, Wonderhussy, to seduce and destroy Mister Tony…thus ending Mister Tony’s reign of joy. Evil Tony possibly also has a devil’s tail which he plugs into Wonderhussy’s Electric Vagina to recharge his Evil energy…this shit is all still in development. LOLz!!!!!

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The tables have turned!

Anyway, this is all 100% on spec, and I don’t expect to make any money off of it….but what the hell, sometimes ya gotta do shit for the fun of it, right?! Sometimes it’s fun to make Art for the sake of Art, ya know? But by some miracle it does pan out, and I do become a viral video sensation…I have a plan! I’m gonna use my newfound wealth to hire male models and make my own Art. Art involving lace buttfloss, silly facial expressions and ridiculous poses. I may even get a close-up of a hairy anus or two, who can say? I plan to call this genre Revenge Art…and who knows, some day you might catch my show on the 4th floor of a K-Mart somewhere in Nebraska.

icon smile Im an Artist, Dammit!

P.S. I also went down and hiked the Grand Canyon last weekend…..here’s a short video about it. They say you’re not supposed to attempt hiking all the way down to the bottom and back in one day…but this is the second time I’ve done it, and I’m here to tell you it’s totally doable. It’s an asskicker — something like 4500 feet in elevation gain and 17 miles roundtrip — but it’ll definitely help get you to the point where you can crack a walnut in your ass!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Experimental Noise and the Holy Land Experience

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I can’t call in sick

The only shitty thing about being self-employed is that you can’t call in sick — the show must go on! I came down with some kinda crummy cold/flu thing about a week ago, but…no one is paying me to lay around in bed hacking up mucous. I had to sack the fuck up and git ‘er done!

I had two photo shoots booked earlier in the week, so I just chugged some DayQuil and carried on with the sexy/flirty shtick as best as possible. But it was rough going, let me tell ya — as soon as I was done, I pretty much went home and passed out in bed….and canceled everything else I had planned for the week. BOOOOOO! I hate canceling!! Not only did I miss out on a killer party down at the hot springs with a bunch of Cirque du Soleil acrobats, but I also had to forego my annual 4/20 busking expedition in my Mary Jane showgirl outfit…something I had waited for all year long.

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Heading out to busk…

Actually, I did manage to busk a little bit before I really got sick — because 4/20 fell on a Monday this year, which is kind of a slow night of the week, I also went down on Sunday evening 4/19, to try and capitalize on the dregs of the weekend crowd. But it was horrible! Not only did I feel crappy, but the crowd was cheap as fuck — I only made $19 in the hour and a half or so that I was down there :/

But the worst part, as usual, was the other buskers down there. Some of those losers can be real assholes! The first guy I ran into was wearing a pot leaf costume, too — so I went up to him and complimented him on it (even though it was super shitty), and assured him I wouldn’t stand nearby. But what kind of thanks did I get? He accused me of stealing his idea!!! I was like, “WTF?! I made this costume three years ago!” to which he replied, “I’ve been down here every day for two and a half years, and I’ve never seen you.” Uhhhhh, yeah, dickwad! That’s because I have a LIFE and only come down here once a year — if I did it more often, I’d blow my fucking brains out!! Accuse me of stealing your idea?! Give me a fuckin’ break!

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Pic courtesy Tracie D, TripAdvisor.com

Then it got even worse/better. Remember how last time I tried to go busking, I got into a big fight with midget Mr. T, and he threatened to call security on me because I was standing on “his” spot? And he ended up calling me a “stanky-ass ho?” Well, this time I was very careful to steer clear of Mr. T and “his” dumbass spot…but apparently, he’s a dick like that to everyone, because guess who got arrested for starting a fistfight with one of the guys from KISS?!?!?!?! LOL that’s right, I am supremely pleased to report that Mini Mr T and “Peter Criss” (there’s a group of very successful buskers who dress as KISS) were both arrested for fighting over who gets to stand where on Fremont Street. I’m not making this shit up!! Even better, come to find out “Peter Criss” had outstanding warrants, so they took him off to jail. They let Mr T go, but they banished him and all the other members of KISS from busking for the rest of the night.

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pic courtesy Kory R, flickr.com

Serves them all right, if you ask me! I don’t know the KISS guys, and to be honest they’ve been doing it for so long down there that I bet they’re all right….but that Mr T is one of the biggest pricks I’ve ever encountered. The other buskers told me that he and “Tupac” are very territorial, and will threaten any other busker who comes near “their” spot. So if you’re reading this, and you’re anywhere near Vegas — or if you plan to be in Vegas anytime in the near future — will you please do me a solid and go downtown, pose for a picture with Mini T…..and then stiff him??? Just to piss him off???? That would be so amazing and would totally serve him right for being such a dick. Thanks!!!!

Aaaaaaanyway, it’s been three weeks since I last updated this blog, so I have plenty more to write about than a bunch of halfbaked morons down on Fremont Street. After my last update, I headed up to the Bay Area of California, to attend the funeral of my ex-brother-in-law, Mike, a police officer in San Jose who was tragically killed in the line of duty last month.

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a still from the last porn I was an extra in, Titty Heist

At first I wasn’t sure if I should even go — I hadn’t talked to him in a few years, so we weren’t really close friends anymore. But he was with my sister for ten years, and during that period we hung out quite a bit and did a lot of crazy shit together. He was basically a member of our family…and since the rest of my family was going, I felt it would be shitty of me not to go. So I cancelled a porn extra gig I had booked, and drove up to San Jose for the funeral.

Now, this wasn’t just any funeral — since he was a police officer, it was a huge to-do, held at the SAP Arena (home of the San Jose Sharks hockey team), with something like 15,000 other police officers and an assortment of politicos and other blowhards in attendance. Since Mike had remarried, my sister was not invited to sit with the family, which is to be expected, I guess….but it was still kinda sad how they cut her completely out of his life story. They had a slideshow of photos documenting his life, but they edited her out of every snapshot, and made no mention of his first marriage in the obituary. Again, I can totally understand doing that out of respect for his second wife…but it was still sad, especially because Mike was almost like a father figure to my other sister and brother, and they really looked up to him when they were growing up. But they were all cut out of the memorial, too.

It was all good, though — after the official ceremony was over, we all went back to my sister’s second ex-husband’s house (her second husband also knew Mike, and is still good friends with our family) and had our own memorial — with all of our photos of Mike. Let me tell you, we have some real doozies!!!! Out of respect for his professional reputation/legend, I won’t post any here — but rest assured, Mike was anything but square when he hung out with us!!! He truly was a cool-as-fuck guy with an open mind and a real progressive bent…and he will be sorely missed icon sad Experimental Noise and the Holy Land Experience I have mixed feelings regarding all this anti-cop bias out there now…I mean, I’ve certainly had my share of run-ins with The Man, but at the same time, look how fuckin’ dangerous their job is! Mike was just responding to a call, and some suicidal whackjob shot him in the head. Neither side has it easy.

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Rent Me
pic by Dan P.

Anyway, after a few days in the Bay Area, I had to head on back down to Vegas to take care of some business before my next adventure — I had a photo shoot with this awesome Norwegian photographer, and then I had to do my damn taxes (if you’re curious, I juuuuust squeaked in over the poverty line). But once I got all that shit out of the way, I was off again!

This time, my travels took me back down to the desert near Palm Springs…because it’s festival season, and you know what that means. NO, not Coachella — puh-lease! I have better things to do than hang out with trustafarian douchebags and chicks in hi-waisted stonewashed jean shorts listening to Indie shoegazers barfing angst all over their American Apparel leggings….blecccchhhhh!!! I’m talking about the Wonder Valley Experimental Noise Festival!!!

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camping in the desert behind the Palms

What is experimental noise, you ask? It’s sort of like music, but without traditional rhythm or melody…and it is far fucking out!! They have these noise festivals out in the desert behind the Palms Restaurant from time to time, and I’d been wanting to check one out ever since I go-go danced at the Noise Disco there last August. The Palms even lets you camp out back for free, so my sister and I made plans to meet there Saturday afternoon, check out the Noise, and then travel around for a few days afterward before heading home.

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all the modern facilities

Holy cow, was that ever amazing!! It was basically a bunch of awesome nerdy white people in their 30s and 40s, plinking and plunking on weird instruments, making heavy use of feedback and distortion, and just generally ruckussing around and having a grand old time. As mentioned it was the same weekend as Coachella, but let me tell you….the Wonder Valley Experimental was about as far from Coachella as you can get!!  I’d rather hang out in Wonder Valley listening to noise any day of the week…it’s way more interesting!

Here’s a short video compilation I made of some of the acts. I didn’t take nearly enough video, but you get the idea — it was insane!! I wish I would have gotten more footage of this one lady who performed toward the end — she had this freaky fucking act with a ventriloquist doll, that involved a lot of whispering and screaming and psychotic-sounding gibberish….OMG it was incredible! But I was pretty wasted by then, so none of my footage came out icon sad Experimental Noise and the Holy Land Experience

Meanwhile, I also recognized a few people from the Noise Disco last August — many of the same acts were playing. At one point, I went over to say hi to my friend Rich Polysorbate from Alien Agenda….and almost immediately was sorry I did, as he greeted me with, “Hey, you like danger, right?!” Come to find out, he was busy stuffing a bunch of fireworks into a piñata…and wanted me to douse it with lamp oil, light it on fire, then wave it around on a broomstick during Alien Agenda’s performance. How could I say no?!?

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with Alien Agenda

He outfitted me in a “safety suit” made of disposable painters’ overalls, which had been specially customized for me by one of the other members of Alien Agenda, and loaned me one of their tinfoil helmets…and just like that, before you know it I was performing with Alien Agenda! Rich ended up doing most of the piñata-waving, so I just danced around the periphery and stirred up the fire, blasting everything with lamp oil from time to time and basically adding a shit ton of ambiance. I can’t tell you when I’ve had that much fun! Here’s a video; see for yourself:

The next morning, my sis and I packed up camp and had a delicious brunch at the Palms before heading on our way. Our plan was to hit the swap meet in Yucca Valley before heading on out toward the coast, but…again, we got to the swap meet too late, and most of the booths were already closed up icon sad Experimental Noise and the Holy Land Experience Those desert rats get started early; by noon, most of them had already packed up and left. I guess next time I’ll have to camp out across the street…that’s the only way I’ll ever be able to get there early enough!

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Wheeler Gorge

So instead, we drove out toward the coast to spend some time at the beach. I had planned to hit up the Big Caliente hot springs in the mountains near Ojai, but alas, the roads were impassible due to recent rains. So we just camped out at a place called Wheeler Gorge, and it was OK. It just sucks having to pay for camping…I’m spoiled with all that free BLM boondocking we did in AZ and NV :-/

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Swanning around Ojai in my favorite caftan

The next day we went down and checked out the fabulous town of Ojai, which seems to be pretty much rich new Agers and hippies, and then headed on toward one of my favorite places ever, Pirates Cove nude beach near San Luis Obispo; I hadn’t been to the beach in a while, and I guess I was jonesing for some salty sea air on my hoo-ha. The only bummer was, there’s no free camping at all in that area, so we ended up shelling out $45 to camp out nearby at this place called Avila Hot Springs.

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“camping” at Avila Hot Springs

I do not recommend camping or even soaking here; the facilities are pretty much totally lacking in ambiance, and the campground is basically a parking lot next to a U.S. 101 offramp. The soaking pool is very shallow and kinda murky and gross, and even the clientele wasn’t very friendly — not sure what people see in this place!!

But on the plus side, it’s only a 10-minute

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you have been warned!

drive from Pirates Cove nude beach….so at least we were able to get in some quality nude sunbathing time. We got up fairly early and went into nearby Avila Beach for coffee (also not recommended — Avila Beach is a creepy, Stepford-esque fake beach town straight out of Disneyland), and then spent all afternoon baking on the sand at Pirates Cove. Ironically, I was sitting there naked sewing clothes — a fan of this blog had invited me to a Jimmy Buffett concert in Orlando later in the week, so I was putting some last-minute touches on my costume for that. Multitasking — it’s what I do!

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at Pirates Cove

Anyway, I would have liked nothing more than to spend at least a few days basking in the sun at Pirates Cove — it’t a beautiful spot, and I hear there are a lot of cool locals who hang out there…but as luck would have it, I got a text message from a fellow model in Vegas telling me an opening had come up at the big Broadcasters’ tradeshow the next day. So in the interest of making money, I figured I’d better pack up and drive home in time to work it. Around 4pm my sis and I hiked out, and I cruised back to Vegas, getting home just in time to pass out for the night.

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at the NAB tradeshow with Lou Magelowitz

Fortunately, I only had to work the tradeshow for that one day — the very next day, I was off to Orlando, to see that Jimmy Buffett concert I was talking about. As mentioned, a reader of this blog messaged me the week before, asking if I wanted to be his date to the show, since his longtime girlfriend had backed out. Hmmmm…..Jimmy Buffett?!?

Now, as always my first inclination was to say YES — but then I remembered my new policy of saying NO, which I’ve been trying (unsuccessfully) to adopt as a means of warding off exhaustion. I mean, I’m not even really a fan of Jimmy Buffett…..and flying all the way to Florida to see him play is a huuuuge carbon footprint.

10632885 1064686783558979 4330448350187099163 n 300x165 Experimental Noise and the Holy Land ExperienceBut then I realized that my carbon footprint is already the size of Rhode Island, thanks to all the roadtripping I do….and that seeing Jimmy Buffett perform in Florida is one of those things that should be experienced in the course of a fully-lived life. But the thing that really sealed the deal for me was this: the guy who invited me to the show also offered to take me shopping or sightseeing or whatever I wanted the following day. Well, I didn’t really want to go shopping, and I had just been at the beach in California, and I have no interest in theme parks…

Theme parks!!! That’s when I remembered The Holy Land Experience, this whacked-out evangelical creationist Christian theme park in Orlando…a place I’ve always wanted to go! So I messaged the guy and told him I’d be happy to join him at the Buffett show…as long as we could go to the Holy Land Experience the next day, too!

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pre-gaming with some tater tots and the obligatory cheeseburger in paradise!

Fortunately, this guy was cool as hell and totally onboard with the idea, so the day after the tradeshow I got up at 4am Vegas time, hauled ass to the airport, and flew to Orlando. The guy who had invited me did an amazing job making me feel welcome — he even greeted me at the airport with a “WONDER HUSSY” sign like limo drivers carry, LOL! He had even booked me my own hotel room, at a swanky place downtown near the events center where the concert was taking place, so after checking in, we went out for a few margaritas to get primed for the show. I guess originally he had planned to take his longtime girlfriend to the show, and that’s why he had booked the hotel room…but things didn’t work out, so he did what everyone should do when they’re in a pinch: CALL WONDERHUSSY! Hopefully, he ended up having a decent time after all. I know I did!

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margaritas!!!

Now, I had never seen Jimmy Buffett live, and I didn’t even really know many of his songs…but it was actually a pretty good show, and besides, I drank so many margaritas I could have been watching One Direction and I wouldn’t have noticed! The show itself was great — Jimmy Buffett performed barefoot, and genuinely seemed to be having the time of his life — but as always it was the people-watching that really got me: thousands and thousands of blitzed white people in Hawaiian shirts and grass skirts; ex-frat-bro types and their leathery tanned wives, all drunk as skunks and swaying to the music. It was like a Grateful Dead show for the Tommy Bahama set — absolutely amazing!! I even saw a few non-white people in the crowd!

But as amazing as that concert was, it could not compare to the fabulousness that awaited me the next day at the Holy Land Experience. O…….M……….G!!!!!!!

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the fabulous, inimitable Miss Jan Crouch

If you’ve never heard of it, The Holy Land Experience is this fucked-up Bible theme park built by the good people of TBN — that’s the Trinity Broadcasting Network, a/k/a one of those televangelist channels with big-haired ladies asking you for money in return for prayers, etc. The fabulous woman in this photo is Miss Jan Crouch, one of my all-time heroes and style icons — I mean, just look at her!!! I’ve seen her on TV many times, and have always wanted to meet her.

Aside from asking for money on air, TBN also charges $50 to get into their theme park…so you know they’re raking it in — especially because, as a religious institution, they qualify for tax-exempt status (to maintain that status, they have to let people into the park for free one day a year…but they close half the park down “for repairs” on that day, haha). And once you get in, you can’t turn around without bumping into another opportunity to spend more money — there are gift shops around every corner (none selling anything cool, alas…just dumb stuff like study Bibles and Christmas ornaments) and snack bars all over the place (selling Chick-Fil-A….of course).

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?!?!?! I think this was supposed to be King David

Now, if you’re a true Christian, you’d be very disappointed by the Holy Land Experience — though it’s billed as an educational step back in time to Biblical days, it’s really just a super-cheap, seriously tacky mess of glitter and rhinestones, with a few sad sacks in crappy Christmas Pageant costumes working the gift shops and food stands. Really pathetic! There are no rides of any sort, and there aren’t even any live characters walking around dressed as Jebus, etc. — just cardboard cutouts strategically placed about the grounds.

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cardboard Jesus

But since I wasn’t expecting anything more than a few laffs, I actually had a pretty good time. It only took us about an hour and a half to scope out the entire park (it’s really small, and really fucking chintzy), and I was actually just getting ready to write the whole thing off as a colossal waste of time and money….but then two things changed all that.

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baptizin’

First, they had a live baptism — anyone who wants to be baptized can sign up at this kiosk, and then an actor playing Jebus dunks you in a fountain in front of an audience of befuddled, cheering halfwits. At the show I witnessed, Jebus baptized a white guy and then this black couple — and all three of the victims looked so happy afterward, it made me curious. I would have volunteered to be baptized myself, just to see what it was all about…but I wasn’t wearing waterproof mascara, and you know how that goes. (I know Jan Crouch understands!!!)

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you weren’t supposed to take photos during the show, so I stole this one from someone’s Yelp review

Besides the baptism, the other amazing thing I saw at the Holy Land Experience was the 4:00 Passion Play — sort of a Broadway-style retelling of the Story of Jesus, complete with glittery costumes, soulful singing, thundering sound effects and a rousing finale in which Jebus Himself came out into the audience and laid His hands on various audience members, curing them of back pain, cataracts, cancer and more! IT WAS INCREDIBLE! Whoever did the costuming on this masterpiece deserves a Tony Award — it was exceptional, especially the gothed-out chain-festooned hoodie-trenchcoat worn by Satan, and the slutty Hot Topic ensembles worn by his three writhing demon-whores.

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meh…

Costuming aside, the most incredible part of the whole show was the fact that Miss Jan Crouch herself was hanging around back in the wings, just offstage — because I was in the front row, I could see her lurking back there, but alas she never did come out onstage. I think she was probably waiting until the show ended, at which time she would come out and ask for donations…but UNFORTUNATELY, I had to haul ass to the airport to catch my flight back to Vegas, so I didn’t get to meet her. Boooo icon sad Experimental Noise and the Holy Land Experience

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farm league Jesus

I was in such a hurry to make my flight, in fact, that I almost ran right past Jebus himself on my way out of the park — I had been wanting a photo with a “real” Jesus all day long, only finding those cheesy cardboard cutouts…but as I ran out of the park toward the airport, I ran into one of the two live Jesuses on duty that day. The main Jesus was back in the theater, still rambling on curing people of cataracts and whatnot. But apparently the 2nd string Jesus, the one who’d done the baptisms, was still lurking around the park…so I stopped for a quick photo with him before hauling ass for the airport. Whew!!!! Just in time!!

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thank you Jebus!!

 

I’ve never been so late for a flight, and I was really sweating it — I had a vaporizer full of weed in my suitcase, so I didn’t want to carry it on and have it go thru the X-ray and everything. But you know how sometimes they won’t let you check a bag if it’s less than 40 minutes before your flight leaves? Well, I told the guy at the check-in desk that I was late because I’d been at the Holy Land Experience….and he totally let me slide!!!! BOO YA! Who says Jesus doesn’t save?! I’m pleased to report, both me and my vape both made it back to Vegas just fine icon smile Experimental Noise and the Holy Land Experience

 

 

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me being polite, on a fancy couch at the Holy Land Experience

**P.S. I just want to note that I was very polite and low-key while at the Holy Land Experience….I dressed modestly, and kept all my snarky remarks to myself. I’m an atheist, but I’m not one of those loud-mouthed braying-jackass-type atheists who gets in everyone’s face with their beliefs…I’m just the yellow-bellied kind who acts nice to peoples’ face, then goes home and writes a snarky blog about them.**

***PPS For a full photo account of my trip to the Holy Land Experience, see my Facebook album***

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Sock it to me!

Anyway, I got back to Vegas just in time for the next exciting item on the agenda: the biannual Blinking Man bicycle pub crawl, this whacked out sort of neighborhood bike ride they do around downtown Vegas, where everyone dresses up and decorates their bikes with blinking lights and stuff, then rides around from bar to bar getting soused. It’s one of my all-time favorite events, so I wanted to be sure I was home in time to get ready for that. This time the theme was the Beatles…so I rigged up an old-time 1960s bathing suit, then strung some lights in an old beehive wig I once bought at a drag store on Hollywood Blvd. I even placed a miniature version of the famous “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas” sign at the very top, in honor of Miss Betty Willis, the sign’s designer, who died that very same day out in Overton, this creepy little Mormon town near Lake Mead. It came out great, and a fabulous time was had by all.

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in happier times, in the “Garden of Eden”

Soooooo….after all that, no fucking wonder I got sick!! You might say my sickness was Divine Retribution, incurred by my mocking the Lord Jebus Christ at the Holy Land Experience….but I prefer to believe that my sickness was caused by Germs, incurred by my flying on an airplane, which is basically a giant petri dish of bacteria. The last time I got sick was when I took that cruise…..also a giant petri dish. I think I’m gonna stick to road-tripping from now on — my truck may be slightly beat-up looking, but at least I keep it clean inside!!!

Ughhhhh……..

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Uncategorized | 10 Comments

WTF is on Zzyzx Road?!

01 Zzyzx Sign 028 web WTF is on Zzyzx Road?!

pic by Shutterbug-Studio

 

Anyone who’s ever driven between L.A. and Vegas has seen the sign for Zzyzx Rd. — and has probably wondered WTF it’s all about. Zizz-who?!

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pic by Shutterbug-Studio

I’d always wondered, myself — I mean, my name is Wonderhussy, and I wonder about everything. So a few weeks ago, I packed up my high heels and breath mints, rounded up my photographer friend Shutterbug Studio, and headed out into the desert to unlock the secrets of Zzyzx.

Shutterbug and I often take off for the day on excursions like this, searching the farthest reaches of the Mojave for new

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pic by Shutterbug-Studio

and exciting photo shoot locations. That’s how we ended up shooting at that abandoned brothel and that abandoned water park; the desert is full of funky shit baking away in the sun, waiting to be discovered — you just have to get out there and look for it. Maybe Zzyzx would be a cool new spot to get naked and create Art!

If you know anything about me, you know how much I enjoy posing nude outdoors. Shooting in a studio or hotel room is fine, but for a dramatic and unique backdrop, you just can’t beat the desert. And while “other” Vegas-based models and photographers tend to use the same tired-ass old locations over and over again (the fake ghost town at Nelson, the dry lake bed, Red Rock Canyon)… I get restless. Those are all great locations, but…after 999 photo shoots, you start to get bored and look for new places.

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circa 2005, at an old abandoned motel that used to be right on Las Vegas Blvd, near where the M Resort is now :/

The problem is, during the mid-2000s housing boom in Vegas, all the cool decaying stuff within 50 miles or so was bulldozed to make way for plastic surgery clinics and shitty cardboard tract houses. Case in point: this badass old abandoned motel used to be right on Las Vegas Blvd., down around where the M Resort now stands. Unfortunately, by the time I started modeling for a living they had torn it down for that dumbass casino… and a fabulously picturesque and convenient location was forever lost icon sad WTF is on Zzyzx Road?!

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pic by Shutterbug-Studio

These days, you have to drive pretty far out into the desert to find interesting new shooting spots. And I mean way out there — all the good places within an hour of town have been pretty much done to death, so shooting at a new spot requires quite a bit of travel time. Fortunately, however, Shutterbug and I don’t mind spending an entire day cruising around the desert in his 4WD Jeep; as long as he has enough Pepsi and cigarettes, he can go all day! And as long as I have a Coke and occasional cell service to keep up with my daily non-stop avalanche of email…I’m good too icon smile WTF is on Zzyzx Road?!

So, we decided to head south on the I-15 and check out Zzyzx Rd, about 2 hours outside Vegas. It worked out great, because Shutterbug had some winning lottery tickets he needed to cash in anyway, at the Lotto Store

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pic by Shutterbug-Studio

out on the NV/CA state line (NV has no state lottery…so, as if there aren’t already enough opportunities to gamble out here, many locals make the 45-minute drive to the state line to buy lotto tickets in California. There’s this whole weird store devoted to them right over the state line — you go in and it’s like a methadone clinic, with people lined up around the block to get their fix. Bizarre!).

Anyway, after cashing in his tickets

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pic by Shutterbug-Studio

there was still another hour or so to go…so I did some research on my phone. A quick Google search revealed Zzyzx (pronounced zizz-ix, if you didn’t know) to be a made-up word, invented by a 1940s health guru as the last word in the English language.  Under that illustrious brand, he peddled a line of bullshit supplements and ran a sort of old-timey health spa out near a mineral spring on the edge of the Soda Dry Lake bed south of Baker, where people could swill mineral water and bake in the desert sunshine, curing themselves of a litany of ailments. Eventually, however, the Feds shut him down and forced him out…and the abandoned spa buildings have been crumbling in the desert sun since 1974.

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pic by Shutterbug-Studio

An abandoned spa on a dry lake bed far enough from Vegas to keep all but the most dedicated methheads from defacing it?!?!? How much awesomer of a location could you ask for? Wikipedia did also mention that the California State University system now uses Zzyzx as a desert studies center…but ever the optimists, Shutterbug and I figured there would still be some areas we could sneak into, so we didn’t let that stop us.

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pic by Shutterbug-Studio

Alas….for once, we struck out icon sad WTF is on Zzyzx Road?! I am disappointed to report that all the buildings at Zzyzx are indeed being used by CSU, and there aren’t any abandoned ruins to shoot in out there. Even the fountains and stuff are surrounded by university outbuildings, with busybody do-gooder desert conservationists-in-training hanging around everywhere you turn, so you can’t exactly drop trou and strike a pose. That’s great for the desert…but bad for nudies. D’oh!!!

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pic by Shutterbug-Studio

After driving around for a few minutes scoping out the disappointing situation, we ended up settling for a few quick nudes out on Soda Dry Lake, just off the road leading out to the Zzyzx spa. That is a weird lake bed — jaggedy and crumbly, with a coating of blinding white powdery stuff on top, like coke-encrusted boogers. Not very comfortable to recline on, let me tell ya!

Well, now where to?! We didn’t drive this

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pic by Shutterbug-Studio

far out into the middle of nowhere to go home empty-handed, so we decided to head back into the tiny little “town” of Baker to look around. Baker is one of those pit stops on the L.A.-Vegas route that’s really little more than a few gas stations and some fast-food outlets. They tried to gussy it up a bit and lure in a few tourist dollars by erecting the World’s Tallest Thermometer and opening an Alien Jerky store…but it’s still a pretty depressing, dusty little outpost with little to recommend it other than the fabulous Mad Greek restaurant (don’t ask me how those poor Greeks ended up in that godforsaken corner of the Mojave Desert, but it’s awesome). But the sign says “Population: 600…” so I figured there must be more to it; surely there was someplace worth shooting, somewhere in town!

 

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pic by Shutterbug-Studio

 

Sure enough, right away we came upon the fabulous, abandoned Arne’s Royal Hawaiian Motel! I don’t think it’s been closed down very long — less than 5 years, I guess — but the decay definitely set in fast. The desert’ll do that! But despite the fact that it’s located right out on the main drag — Baker Blvd. — the place wasn’t in that bad of shape. I guess most people don’t stop in Baker long enough to dick around and deface a motel and whatnot — they just gas up and get the fuck out!

 

 

 

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Does this unnerve you?
pic by Shutterbug-Studio

Anyway, we shot in and around the rooms for awhile (the doors are boarded up, but the windows are busted out and can be climbed thru), and then headed over to the old office, which was even easier to get into, as the sliding glass door was totally busted and wide open. Someone had inexplicably emptied a jar of pickles on the floor — and fairly recently, too, as the desert hadn’t yet sucked all the juice out of them! The strange shit you find in abandoned buildings….LOL!

 

The pool area was well-fenced-off, so we couldn’t really get in there without doing some major climbing…so we cruised around the back, instead, to a sort of open desert area that had a shit ton of busted-up, rusted-out old cars, RVs, boats, shipping containers and military transport vehicles. It was better than Disneyland — a photographer’s paradise!!!! I could have shot out there for days without running out of ideas. It was incredible!

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pic by Shutterbug-Studio

Now meanwhile, we did pass a few methily-lettered “NO TRESPASSING” signs…but we never did see anyone there, or any dogs or anything, so I guess we were lucky. That’s one of the risks you run, shooting out in all these cool, abandoned places —  aside from broken glass, rusty nails, spiders, rats and scorpions….you also have to worry about methheads and their vicious attack dogs. DON’T TRY THIS AT HOME!

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pic by Shutterbug-Studio

 

Anyway, after shooting our fill among the rusted out cars and boats, we got back in the car and cruised around the rest of Baker, which wasn’t much — a few cinderblock apartment buildings, a bunch of trailers, a post office and a car repair place…and that’s about it. I can’t imagine who lives out there! It’s hotter than Hades in the summer, and it must be a pretty lonely place any time of year. Crazy!

 

 

 

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pic by Shutterbug-Studio

Since there wasn’t anything else going on around Baker, we got back on the 15 and headed back up to Vegas. We made one final stop at the Halloran Springs exit, which I guess used to have a cafe and a gas station and a few houses…but nowadays it’s all abandoned and covered in fabulous graffiti, so we fired off a few more shots there before finally calling it a day. We poked around in the rubble of one of the abandoned houses, and it was a trip — it looked like a family with kids had lived there, but had suddenly been evicted, almost overnight. There were still clothes and books and toys and DVDs laying around everywhere, but the windows were all busted out and the desert was already starting to take over again.

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Rage, rage against the drying of the pickle
pic by Shutterbug-Studio

It was kinda sobering; I think I caught a glimpse of my own future in the ruins of that cinderblock shack. Some day, when Lake Mead has dried up and Yucca Mountain is bursting at the radioactive seams, and the desert has finally sucked all the juice out of my pickle…some half-naked nitwit will probably go poking thru the ruins of my house, kicking aside dusty old feather boas and sunbaked trucker caps, looking for a good place to plant her fat ass and create Art. By then, who can say how many megapixels her photographer’s camera will shoot…and how many hairs she will have allowed to sprout on her pubis?? Styles change — but one thing is for sure:

The desert always wins!

 

All pics taken 3/30/15 in and around Baker, CA (except as noted)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Uncategorized | 6 Comments

These are the days

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credit: DespayreFX

Right now is the best time there is!

I mean that not only in a Carpe Diem, be-here-now kind of way…but also in a strictly literal sense; the weather at this time of year is PERFECT for desert adventuring. So that’s just what I’ve been doing. Carpe Diem? CARPE SCROTUM — grab life by the balls!!

For my March adventure, I wanted to finish exploring Nevada — remember, I was only able to make it halfway up the state last month, due to shitty weather. But I didn’t really have enough time — I only had about a week free, and that week coincided with the annual visit of my German musician pals, Käpt’n Rummelsnuff and his First Mate, Christian Asbach. And when those guys come all the way from Berlin….Nevada can wait!!!

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WORD.

 

You may remember from last year that together, my friends perform as Rummelsnuff — a far-out sort of post-punk industrial-pop act with an Eastern bloc aesthetic. They classify their music as electro-pogo, but it’s really hard to describe/categorize….so here’s the music video we shot with them at their ranch last year. Decide for yourself:

Anyhoo, THOSE guys were back in town — and by “town,” I mean the remotest desert out by Twentynine Palms, where they have a sort of winter compound out in a place called Wonder Valley. For the last few years I’ve gone out to stay with them for a few days….I love that place, and they’re super cool people!

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credit: theexplainer

But before heading out on this latest adventure, I had to make my monthly nut. First things first! Luckily, there was a photography convention in town, so Vegas was flooded with photographers and I got quite a bit of work off that. I did one shoot at the Palazzo and another at the New York, New York — which has totally pedestrian rooms, but which you can also see from the photos here proves that it’s not the room, it’s the people involved. This photographer was very cool and he captured some great shots. Most of the black & whites in this blog are by him.

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At Big Dune with DespayreFX

Then another day I shot with my Canadian photographer friend, DespayreFX. We’d shot together back in January, and had so much fun/got such great results that he hired me again, and this time he booked a really swanky penthouse suite at the Delano (formerly known as THE Hotel). What an amazing room for shooting!! We got some really incredible stuff, and also ventured out to Big Dune in Amargosa Valley, and got some bad-ass stuff there, too. I don’t typically shoot at these dunes because they’re pretty far from town (a two-hour drive)…but for DespayreFX, I’ll do anything (well, almost anything…LOL).

But our shoot almost didn’t happen, because of the dumb-ass customs agents at the U.S. border — Despayre lives in Vancouver, Canada, and ran into trouble as he was trying to get to Bellingham, WA for his flight to Vegas. Apparently the customs agent saw all his photo gear and assumed that he was coming down to the U.S. to steal American Jobs™…and when he explained that to the contrary, he was coming down here to pay an American model, they didn’t believe him.

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At the Delano penthouse
by DespayreFX

Meanwhile, I had no idea any of this was going on — I was going about my business, ferrying another photographer out to the fake ghost town of Nelson for a shoot, when I got a call: “This is U.S. Customs Officer Baker. Is this Sarah Jane Woodall?”

Yoikes!!! Did he read my blog about the goodies I stashed in the desert on my way into Mexico?!? What kind of mess was I in now?????

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Big Dune
by DespayreFX

But all he wanted to know was if Despayre’s story was true. I told him the truth, that Despayre had hired me…and he seemed very skeptical: “Is that how this typically works??!”

Um, yes! That’s how I make my living, dumbass! Of course I didn’t say that to him — I was unfailingly polite, as was Despayre…but despite our best combined efforts, they still ended up detaining him at customs for three hours. He ended up missing his flight because of it, and had to book another flight out of his own pocket — from Seattle, because all the Bellingham flights had already left. All told, this snafu cost him something like $1,000 — what a racket!! Any Canadian photographers who are reading this, take heed!

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More from the Delano penthouse, by DespayreFX

Aside from photo shoots, my friend Dr. Kildare also came back to town to shoot more scenes for this sort of docu-comedy he’s making based on my life….and this shoot almost got fucked up by American Idiots, too! Basically, there were two things he needed to shoot this time: some scenes out at the dry lake bed, and some more footage of me riding my bike down East Fremont Street with the existentialist ventriloquist dummy strapped to my back. And both of those plans were pretty much derailed by an unfortunate coincidence  — the Mint 400 offroad race/redneck jamboree was taking place that very same weekend, and was already using both locations!! They had East Fremont all cordoned off for some dumb pre-race circle jerk…and then the race itself was being held out at the very same lake bed he wanted to shoot at — Roach Lake in Jean, NV. D’oh!!!!

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Shot by Dr. Kildare out at Jean dry lake bed

Still, we managed to shoot the necessary content — we hit the farthest reaches of the lake bed, as far as possible from the hi-octane idiocy, and just ignored all the “TEMPORARILY CLOSED TO THE PUBLIC” signs (this was a few days before the actual race, anyway, so it wasn’t a big deal). And the stuff we shot came out pretty freaking amazing!!! I’m telling you, this movie (working title: WONDERHUSSY) is going to be something else — every time he shows me the rushes, I’m really impressed with the production values and the content. Hopefully it takes the Sundance festival by storm!!!

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the great outdoors!!!

Anyway, after all that running around and sucking it in, sticking it out, etc. it was finally adventure time again. I started my break with a little overnight kayaking/camping trip on the Colorado River with my friend Rick, and it was just absolutely fantastic — the weather was A M A Z I N G, and the wildflowers were insane — the desert really does bloom this time of year. We paddled

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our campsite

downriver a ways to this sandy little beach, then set up camp and made a fire and sat out enjoying the night. The only bummer was, there was so much garbage everywhere — we packed out like 3 bags full, but there were still at least three dumpsters full left icon sad These are the days What the fuck is wrong with people?!? Anyway, here’s a short video I made about the trip:

Aside from all the litter, the other bummer was that of all possible times for Wheel of Fortune to come back to Vegas for auditions, it happened to be THAT weekend. You may recall that I auditioned for Wheel of Fortune a couple of summers ago, and totally aced the audition — and they said to be on the lookout for a postcard or email from them in the next two months, with information on the next step. Well, fuckin’ Gmail accidentally sent the email into my spam folder, and I didn’t find it until it was too late!!!! I missed being on the show by two freaking days, and I’ve been pissed off about it ever since. Do you realize how many adventures I could finance by going on that show?!?!? FUCK!

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I left THIS for Wheel of Fortune :/

So now they were finally coming back, and I knew I couldn’t miss it. They had three auditions on Saturday, and three on Sunday — so I figured I’d still go kayaking, but leave in time to make the last audition on Sunday. Which meant tearing myself from the beautiful sun-drenched river to go sit in some shitty hotel ballroom with a bunch of other greedy assholes….but whatever; you do what you have to do.

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photo credit: theexplainer

ALAS, however, I think I totally wasted my time — I didn’t realize how freakishly lucky I was at my first audition. See, when you arrive to audition, you fill out a little card and then they put everyone’s name in a raffle drum, then randomly pick out names to come up onstage and play the game. While you’re up there, they interview you and stuff to see how personable you are, and if you’d be good on TV. HELLO!!!! Last time they picked my name right away, and I went up, charmed the pants off one and all and solved the puzzle before anyone else. But THIS time, I sat there and sat there and sat there……and they never drew my name icon sad These are the days DAMMIT!!! I guess there were people who had gone to all six auditions, and finally got picked….so I guess I should have forfeited kayaking altogether and just stayed in that fuckin’ ballroom all weekend. But, really??

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by SW Images

Anyway, supposedly they said they might still call those of us who were in the audience but didn’t get called up…so I guess I’ll keep checking my spam box for the next two months. But I have my doubts. Anyone know anyone at Wheel that can get me in???? I really need to win some money — BADLY!!!!! I could finally buy a badass off-road rig or van with that kind of cheese!!!

So, I was pretty pissed off about that whole debacle, but I didn’t have too long to stew about it because the very next day I was off to meet my sister for our March adventure — before heading down to Wonder Valley to visit Rummelsnuff, we had planned to meet up in the mountains east of Bakersfield and camp out at this intriguing-looking set of hot springs on the Kern River. I left Vegas on Monday around noon, heading up U.S. 395 toward Ridgecrest, then cutting across to the west over Walker Pass…and H O L Y  H E L L ! ! ! ! I’ve never seen anything like it — it was astonishingly beautiful!!!!!

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Kern River valley

I’m telling you, I had no idea this area even existed, but it was incredible. It was lush and green from the winter rains, with wildflowers all over the place — sort of how I picture Wyoming, only with Joshua trees. Fabulous!! I almost wrecked my truck six times gawking at the amazing splendor of it all. It’s the area around Lake Isabella, if you’ve ever been up there — just absolutely breath-taking.

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camping on the beach of the Kern River

Anyhoo, I met up with my sis at Remington Hot Springs…these rustic little hippie-dippie man-made pools right on the edge of the river, in a forest. The parking area is only about 1/4 mile up the hill from the springs, and most people just camp up there…but since we’re badasses, we packed up our gear and headed down to the river, and set up camp on a secluded little beach down by the springs. Natural-beauty-wise, Remington is definitely in the top 2 or 3 springs I’ve ever been to — just amazing. The only downside is, the soaking pools aren’t very hot — there’s really only one tub that’s a decent temperature, and it’s pretty small, fitting about 5 people max if you really squeeze in.

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Remington Hot Springs

Fortunately it was all dudes down there, so when my naked sis and I showed up there was more than enough room for us in the hot tub…and we enjoyed a nice, long soak late into the evening, with the peaceful sound of the Kern River rushing past in the background. What a magical place!! I had heard it can get really crowded with riff-raff from Bakersfield, but on this Monday evening it was pretty chill — and no trash or anything laying around, either. At first, I did get a slightly creepy vibe from the parking area — it looked like the kind of place a car might get broken into, because there were a lot of mixed characters hanging around, and apparently some poor guy’s van had been burned to a crisp a couple nights before — but apparently it was his bad, for dropping a cigarette butt on the ground next to a gas can, I guess. In any event, I had no bad experiences. In fact, everyone I met was cool as fuck!

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Yay for naked mornings at a hot spring!

The most interesting of the bunch was this dreadlocked vandwelling busker from Big Sur named Lonnie, whose act consists of him playing guitar and singing while two rabbits sit on his head. Meanwhile, the rabbits have the run of his van, and apparently poop and pee all over the place as they please. Alas, I did not have the opportunity to visit Lonnie’s van…but I found him to be very charming and entertaining, as he sang songs and recited poetry to us all night long.

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LIFE!!!

Then there were a couple of local guys, retired big-rig drivers who I found endlessly interesting to talk to. For some reason I’m fascinated by long-haul truckers, and these two guys indulged me by telling me all about the truckin’ life. They were super cool, and one of them gave my sis and I parting gifts of a colorful scarf heavily scented with stripper perfume, and a framed cross-stich of some howling wolves in the snow. AWESOME! I didn’t have room for the wolf painting in my house so I left it at a thrift store down in Lucerne Valley later in the week….but the scarf has already become one of my favorite accessories icon smile These are the days

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A hippie bus near Remington

Then too there was this little hippie family living in one of those A-frame pop-up campers — a mom, dreadlocked dad and their little girl. These people were what is commonly referred to as “Drainbows” — as in, the type that attends hippie jamborees like the Rainbow Gathering, but who live off government assistance and are basically lazy pot-smoking drains on the economy. Now, I can’t say for sure that this kid and his wife didn’t have some sort of debilitating medical condition that prohibits them from holding a job, but….the father did bitch about food stamps and WIC only paying for “shitty cheese” and bread containing high-frustose corn syrup. Jeez! Beggars can’t be choosers, bro — I’m sorry my tax dollars don’t cover Gruyère and Ezekiel bread!!!

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trail to the hot springs from the parking lot

Now, speaking of foodie food — before we headed down to Wonder Valley the following day, my sis and I decided to hit up the Vons grocery store in Lake Isabella and buy supplies for a gourmet fucking feast at Rummelsnuff’s compound. It was the least we could do to repay their hospitality, for letting us stay there! We loaded up on caviar, brie, capers, water crackers, asparagus, peppers and lots and lots of steak — we know how Käpt’n Rummelsnuff is when it comes to his protein!! We also got champagne, cabernet and port wine for dessert, with grapes and, yes, Gruyère — we don’t fuck around!!!!! 

Once the cooler was loaded up, we headed down south to the Cat Ranch (the name of their compound; so named because it was infested with feral cats when they bought it off an old blues musician). It was a pretty barren ride through the off-road redneck paradise of Lucerne Valley, but we finally rolled in around dusk, and the party began. My friend Fabian was also there from Vegas, and he had brought along a friend of his who used to be the tour manager for the Killers, but is now apprenticing to be a butcher. That guy had brought even more meat, so the night promised to be a real sausagefest…..in more ways than one!!!!

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arrival at the Cat Ranch

First things first, though — upon arrival, First Mate Christian mixed up cocktails, and we all climbed the rickety spiral staircase to the roof, to watch the sunset. By the time that was over, Käpt’n Rummelsnuff had fired up the grill, and the grubfest began in earnest. There is no running water or electricity at the Cat Ranch, so we enjoyed champagne, caviar and all the accoutrements in the tiny, cluttered kitchen by the light of a kerosene lamp and those colored glowing balls my sister bought me for floating in hot springs — they add instant ambiance to any situation!

Then we all headed out back to the “backyard,” a sort of fenced-in courtyard that is half outdoor gym, half lounge space, where the apprentice butcher set about grilling up all the various and sundry meats in attendance. Oh my god, I’m not normally a big meat eater but I ate so much meat that night — steak and bratwurst and Italian sausage and chicken, and all kinds of crazy grilled awesomeness. The booze and weed were flowing freely, as was the conversation, and it was an amazing night all around. After awhile, the neighbor lady Jill came by with more champagne and peanut M&Ms, which perfectly complimented the port wine, cheese and grapes. UGH!!!!!

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the next morning at the Cat Ranch

The next morning we were all pretty hung over, but fortunately there was plenty more meat on deck — nothing like glistening slabs of thick-cut artisanal bacon to cure a hangover, ya know??? Fabian and the butcher had to leave early, but the rest of us sat around all day in the shade listening to Nico’s Desertshore album, which was the perfect soundtrack for a Teutonic post-gluttony desert comedown. I finally had some time to start embroidering that caftan I bought in Bisbee back in January, so I pretty much just sat around all day working on that. It was very relaxing!!

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desert hot tub

Around sundown, Christian and my sister and I all went over for a sunset soak in the neighbor lady’s Jacuzzi, and then we headed back to the Cat Ranch, where der Käpt’n had prepared a light meal for everyone of various chopped salads and rice. YUM!!! We pigged out again, then Christian fired up their little ramshackeldy sauna, and we all took a nice, therapeutic shvitz. And remember, after sauna you have to hose off in the open-air shower, which is really just a water tank on stilts that you stand under, bathing in a stream of cold water under the desert stars. Legs first, then arms, then belly, then chest — you don’t want to shock your system, you know!! Let me tell you, I slept WONDERFULLY that night!!!

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Der Käpt’n made me stay for the show!

Now meanwhile, Rummelsnuff (the band) had managed to book a show the following Saturday night, at the local dusty dive bar, the Palms — and so the Käpt’n invited us to stay all week, and attend the show. I didn’t think I’d be able to make the show, as I had a photo shoot in Death Valley on Sunday…but my shoot wasn’t until 5pm, so I figured why the hell not?? If I left Wonder Valley early enough Sunday morning I could go home, take a shower, shave my various body hairs and wash my head hair, and still be in Death Valley in plenty of time for my shoot. So, why not????! YOLO, baby!

We didn’t want to wear out our welcome at the Cat Ranch, though, since it was still only Wednesday at that point…so rather than just sit around the ranch all week boozing and sewing, my sis and I took off for a couple days to explore the area.

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hiking at Joshua Tree

The first day, we went to Joshua Tree National Park — a cool desert paradise full of Joshua trees (duh) and crazy rock formations that are super-popular with rock climbers from all over the world. I myself went rock climbing there once, last August, and I don’t get all the fuss — but many people are obsessed with climbing. It’s like a cult — they spend every waking moment and every dime on climbing, climbing gear, and the climbing lifestyle…which apparently includes lots of stuff like Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, Dave Matthews CDs and primo-grade chronic. Those climbers are faaaaar out!

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shitty campsite at Joshua Tree

Not being climbers, my sis and I just wanted to camp out and go for a few hikes. Alas, this was right in the middle of Spring Break, so all the campgrounds were jam-packed, and we were lucky to get a shitty campsite right next to the road, cheek-to-jowl with squalling families and right downwind of the toilets :-/ BOOOOO! Now that I have all this BLM boondocking camp experience, it’s the only way for me — this “civilized” camping shit is for the birds!! But we still enjoyed a nice campfire and a good dinner, and went on a couple of pretty good hikes. My personal opinion? If you’re not a climber, go to the Mojave National Preserve, instead. There you’ll find similar topography, tons of Joshua trees….and it’s FREE to get in! Plus, there’s tons of camping — much of that free, too. And it’s WAY LESS CROWDED!!!!!

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naked bouldering at Joshua Tree

The next morning, we packed up camp and headed back up north a ways to pay a seasonal visit to my beloved #1 all-time favorite place, Deep Creek Hot Springs. I had been there in winter, summer and fall, but never spring — and if the wildflowers around Remington Hot Springs were any indication, it was probably a riot of orgasmic beauty!!!! How could I miss seeing that?!?!?

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Pappy & Harriet’s

Before heading up, though, we stopped for lunch at this touristy-looking joint called Pappy & Harriet’s, in a place called Pioneertown outside Joshua Tree. Apparently it was used to film old Western movies back in the day, but now it’s just a tourist trap with an amazing saloon/restaurant, with astonishingly good, healthy fare. I guess they also feature live music every night, but we were there too early to see any bands — hipsters come all the way from L.A. to see shows there; it’s that kind of place. For that reason, my endorsement is not 100% enthusiastic….but the food really was good, so if you’re in the area, check it out.

Anyway, after lunch we headed to Deep Creek, and packed all our gear down the loooooong trail to the hot springs — unlike Remington, this is more like a 2-mile hike to the springs, so you have to be pretty dedicated if you want to

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Deep Creek Hot Springs 4 LIFE!!!

camp out down there. I made sure to bring my colored balls, and they looked fantastic in the dark, tucked away into crevices in the rocks around the soaking pools. The only bummer was, again, it was Spring Break….so the crowd down there was almost exclusively young kids from area universities…and none of them were very interesting to talk to :-/ Normally when you go down there it’s all naked old conspiracy theorists and kooks…..but this time, it was all bros and bikini girls. No one was even naked!! You could tell, they all thought my sis and I were total hippie weirdos for being nekkid. But whatevs; we still had a nice night.

In the morning we packed up our gear and hiked up out of the canyon in the brutal sun. Here’s a video I made about the whole experience:

 

Before heading back to the Cat Ranch to get ready for the big Rummelsnuff show that night, my sis and I first stopped off in Yucca Valley to check out the legendary Yucca Valley Swap Meet. I love me some swap meets, and this one was said to be particularly amazing, being as the desert in those parts (Yucca, J Tree, Landers, 29 Palms, Wonder Valley) is chock-a-block with artsy, broke bohemian refugees from L.A. It’s basically Kook Central!

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Yucca Valley swap meet

Alas, we got there too late and the swap meet had already mostly shut down…but we wandered around anyway, marveling at the amazing set-up. This swap meet is held on the grounds of an old, defunct drive-in movie theater, and the swap meet booths are permanent structures, like kooky wooden old-west-type shacks and huts with stained glass windows and kooky artwork everywhere. AMAZING!

Even more amazing, we were looking in the windows of this weird building made of painted spray-foam called the Crystal Cave, when out of nowhere this wizened old man in yellow Hunter S. Thompson sunglasses and a leather vest and cowboy hat appeared — he had built the Crystal Cave himself, and wanted us to see inside!! O…M….G…..I cann’t describe in words how amazing this Crystal Cave was inside. I tried to take photos, but you can’t even get the idea: basically, it’s like being inside someone’s eyeball who’s tripping on acid!!!!! Everything is made of brightly-painted spray foam, with colored lights and crystals and little figurines scattered about in nooks and crannies. You sit on a little cushioned bench, and he closes the door behind you so that you’re in complete solitude — the foam is also soundproof. It’s just you and your thoughts inside this crazy psychedelic diorama…..and it is FAR FUCKING OUT!!!!!!!

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inside the Crystal Cave — this photo does NOT do it justice; you have to go in person

After enjoying the Cave for a while, we came out and chatted with the old man, and he was so wonderful! He said he just wanted to share his happiness with others….and by golly, he sure did. I left that place feeling 100% happy, awesome and amazing — in fact, I felt that way pretty much the whole week!!! It was great!!!!!

So then it was time for the Rummelsnuff

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meanwhile, back at the ranch…….

show. We headed back to the Cat Ranch and got dressed, then drove over to the Palms Restaurant. I’ve written about the Palms before, describing it as a sort of Mos-Eisley-cantina-type dusty little desert shitshow with all kinds of kooky characters and astonishingly good food, sitting all alone in the middle of nowhere on Amboy Road, halfway between nowhere and tumbleweed. This night, in honor of Rummelsnuff, the house specialty was bratwurst, so we fueled up on yet more meat, then sat back and watched the show. Curious desert dwellers from miles around had come out to see what this Rummelsnuff was all about, and it ended up being a great night, with a great turnout! The show was amazing, except for the part where Käpt’n asked me to sing backup on this Boney M song, and a great time was had by all. I’m here to tell you, seeing Rummelsnuff at the Palms is like seeing the Rat Pack at the Copa or Hank Williams at the Grand Ole Opry — it’s legendary!!!

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cruising back to Vegas on an overcast desert morning

After the show, the plan was for more partying into the night, then brunch the next morning at the Palms (they have great Bloody Marys and veggie omelets)…and then board up the Ranch so that Christian and Käpt’n could head back to Berlin (the Ranch sits unattended 11 months out of the year). I would have loved to be part of all this, but ALAS, I had to be in Death Valley the next day…so I went to bed early, then got up, broke camp, and sat on my tailgate enjoying one last cup of coffee with Christian before heading out. Käpt’n Rummelsnuff made me a guacamole sandwich for the road (more protein)….and then it was time to say goodbye. Well, not goodbye — Auf Wiedersehen. Til next year!!

So, I cruised back to Vegas, scraped all the crud and body hair off, did my hair and spackled on some makeup, and then got back on the road again, Death Valley-bound. I was meeting the same photographer I shot with last month, when I stayed at the Amargosa Opera House — the guy with whom I totally hit it off, this super-artsy, gaunt motherfucker who is sort of a cross between Tom Waits, David Lynch and R. Crumb. He’s awesome!!!

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Out in Death Valley
photo by Crumb Lynch

Anyway, this time we were camping out at one of the campgrounds in Death Valley — Mesquite Springs. After I set up my tent, we loaded up some music, wine and cheese and headed out into the desert to shoot, getting there right around sunset (this photographer shoots starry night sky stuff, so the later, the better). We passed the evening shooting and bullshitting, sitting around drinking this amazing wine he’d brought from his wine cellar, paired with some exceptional cheeses he’d also brought, listening to some far-out William Orbit electronica and just generally enjoying the fabulous desert night. I tell you, some people know how to live!!!

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More by Crumb Lynch

After shooting, we headed back to camp to get high and talk some more…but alas, it was one of those shitty, developed campgrounds chock full of families and angry people, and we hadn’t been in camp more than 2 minutes when some bossy old biddy came shuffling over to shush us, telling us we were making way too much noise in the middle of the night (it was about 11:30). Like I said, I’m all about desert boondocking – fuck this developed campsite shit! I’d rather set up camp in the middle of nowhere, piss on a bush and and brush my teeth with bottled water, any day!!! We ended up having to hang out inside the photographer’s car, just to keep our conversation from bothering all the sleeping biddies. But it was cool — we sat in the car and got baked, and had a pretty good time, considering. But the REALLY good times were yet to come!!!!!

The next morning, our plan was to head down to the fabulous little desert outpost of Tecopa, home of a few dusty old hot spring resorts from the 1940s, and also home to a fantastic all-natural muddy-bottomed hot spring in the middle of a vast, barren desert valley. It’s one of my all-time #1 favorite places in the entire world, and it’s only 80 minutes outside Vegas! Anyway, this photographer had read about it in my blog or on Yelp or somewhere, and wanted to spend a night hanging out there, shrooming and just being mellow. So of course I said YES!!!

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Death Valley wildflowers!

It was a beautiful day — just driving through Death Valley, with all the wildflowers blooming, and some relaxing Santo & Johnny slide guitar on the stereo, bathing in the clean, warm desert air with the windows down….omg it was fantastic. I wish you all could have been there!!! We arrived in Tecopa in the early afternoon, and enjoyed one of the best meals I’ve ever had in my life on the patio at Pastel’s Bistro — hands-down my #1 all-time favorite restaurant, anywhere! Seriously, this place serves amazing healthy, gourmet food out in the middle of freaking nowhere – you have to try it!

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earlier in the week, at Remington hot springs

Pastel’s doesn’t have a liquor license but they let you BYOB, so my photographer friend busted out another bottle of super-nice red wine from his cellar, and we sat there in the shade eating and drinking and just generally being happier than pigs in shit, enjoying La Dolce Vita 1,000 times better than Fellini ever did! About halfway though the meal, one of my kooky friends from Vegas showed up — I had invited him and my sister as well, to make it a party, but alas, my sister ended up not going, so it was just me and the two guys. But it turned out fantastic.

We all agreed to meet up at the mud spring and take shrooms around 5pm, so after lunch my Vegas friend got baked with the chef, and the photographer and I went back to our rented cabin to take a nap. Normally when I go to Tecopa I stay at Delight’s resort, which has really charmingly crusty old cabins — but this time, the photographer had booked a room at the Tecopa Hot Springs Resort, which has similarly crusty old cabins, and is almost equally charming. I’d have to give Delight’s the advantage, though, because some of the soaking pools there are open to the night sky…whereas at this resort, the tubs are all indoors and kinda creepy in an institutional way.

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My beloved Tecopa mud spring

Anyway, the photographer and I got high and zonked out for an hour or so, then got up and packed some gear and cruised down to the mud spring. It’s not far from the resorts, and honestly I prefer to just walk — walking down a desert highway in your bathrobe while shrooming is an experience everyone should have. But we had firewood and blankets and too much crap to carry, so I drove us down there in my truck, and we met up with my Vegas friend at the appointed hour. We set up camp on the shores of the mud spring, then ate some mushrooms and lay back to watch the sunset.

Oh…..my…..GAWD!!! I have rarely had such an amazing experience. It was perfect. The weather was just right, and the sunset came on in a gentle riot of dusky desert magnificence just as the shrooms were really starting to kick in. To make things even better, my photographer friend had this incredible-sounding little boombox with him playing some kind of far-out spacey, twangy pedal steel liquid fabulousness that fit the mood so perfectly I felt like I was surely in a Werner Herzog movie. I know I say this a lot, but….this experience really was FAR OUT! It was one of my best nights, ever.

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My colored floaty balls (at Deep Creek, earlier in the week)

We spent the evening laying back on a sleeping bag, swimming in the fabulous desert stars. Every now and then we’d get up and soak in the springs, and when it got dark I busted out my colored floaty balls, and set them adrift in the pond for even more ambiance. After a while I built a little bonfire, and we had some more fantastic wine and cheese, and some really far-out conversation, too. You might say we were poisoning our brains and wasting our lives, but………I’m here to tell you, that experience was everything I want out of life. All my senses were alight — the warm desert night on my naked skin, the sharp taste of the cheese and wine, the smell of desert springtime, the sound of frogs and crickets mixed with that fucking amazing pedal steel…and the beautiful sky full of billions and billions of stars, all laid out before us like a smorgasbord of possibility. What more could you ask for?? I sincerely wish everyone reading this could have been there. There would be world peace, for sure.

Around 1am we packed up and headed back — my Vegas friend back to town, and the photographer and I back to our cozy beds in the cabin. In the morning, the only bummer was I had to be back in Vegas for this photo shoot I had scheduled at 12pm — I would have loved nothing more than to dilly-dally over brunch at Pastel’s, but even though I hadn’t heard back from the photographer with whom I was supposed to be shooting…I am a true professional, and I headed back into reality anyway icon sad These are the days I bid adieu to my shroommate, then headed back to town, stopping at a McDonald’s to put on makeup and make myself presentable. And then…wouldn’t you know it, the fuckin’ photographer flaked on me anyway. GRRRRRRRRR!!!!!

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Deep Creek

So, anyway….basically I had an amazing, sun-drenched, wonderful week filled with every Earthly delight imaginable. It was the perfect beginning to a perfect spring, with all the promise of a fabulous summer ahead. I was literally high on the whole experience, feeling sunkissed and happy and optimistic about everything in this life…the way I wish everyone could feel, at least once.

But the next morning, it was all blown to shit. I woke up to a text from my mom, telling me that that my sister’s ex-husband, Mike, had been shot and killed — he was a police officer in San Jose (CA), and he had been killed the night before, in the line of duty, while responding to a call regarding a drunk guy with a gun who was threatening suicide. On his way into the guy’s apartment complex, the guy shot and killed him (and then killed himself).

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Mike making a trampolini (a martini shaken while jumping on my old trampoline)

Holy shit, I wasn’t even this sad when my dad committed suicide a few years ago — this was Mike!! I knew him better than I did my dad — he and my sister were together for ten years, and over that time we spent many, many hours hanging out together. I basically grew up with this motherfucker — he helped teach me how to drive, and how to shoot a gun (he’s the one who talked me into getting my handgun…he was a real gun nut), and we traveled around all over the place together, laughing at stupid shit and just having a good time. I hadn’t seen him in about five years (he and my sis divorced around 2009), but it was still terrible fucking news. He was only 38!!

I did not expect to be this sad about Mike’s death, but fuck….it made me bawl and bawl my eyes out. I guess partly because we shared our youth, and this was like the final death knell in a way — but also partly because he is dead.  Sure, he was a cop and I am a drug-addled naked hippie…..but guess what?! He was a cool as fuck person, and a good cop — not all cops are assholes!! My sister was with him for 10 years, for chrissakes — she had quite a bit of influence on him, and he was a pretty progressive guy. ARRRRRRRGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

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Hero (my mom had just gotten new carpets, and made him wear plastic bags on his feet to keep them clean)

Anyway, I am planning to go back to San Jose next week for the funeral, which promises to be a real shit show — every politician in California is jumping on the bandwagon, angling for a piece of the action…so much so that they are having his funeral at the freaking SAP Pavilion, which is an arena where the Sharks play. And even in an arena, we had to get our names on a guest list to get in. Wow!

I’m sure this memorial service will be a super pompous affair full of bullshit and rhetoric, with liberal use of the words “God,” “honor” and “hero…” which, as a snarky hipster intellectual elitist, I find ridiculous. But…..I was thinking about it, and if anyone ever really was a hero, I guess Mike was. I mean, he died going in to stop some crazy dude with a gun — protecting innocent civilians from whatever mayhem might have ensued. He basically took a bullet for the neighborhood icon sad These are the days If that’s not a hero, I don’t know what is.

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this is how I remember Mike — always game for my family’s fucked-up costume parties!

But, whatever. My family plans to have our own, unpretentious (and no doubt booze- and drug-fueled) memorial service afterward…and we will remember him the way we knew him — as a super nerd obsessed with Dungeons & Dragons, Jiu-Jitsu, calculus, guns and the History Channel; a straight arrow who nevertheless tolerated and embraced the kooky antics of my fucked-up, weird-ass family.

Even in the midst of this circus at the SAP arena, I’ll be thinking of another time I went to that arena with him — somehow, my sister and I once convinced him (waaaaay back in the day) to get up super early and wait in line for Neil Diamond tickets (!!!) at that same venue. We got there at like 7am, and sat around with a bunch of old super-weirdos, including a kids’ party clown, eventually scoring front-row seats to the show. Then we went home and ate a bunch of donuts and laughed ourselves silly before passing out for a nap. Those were the days!

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It goes on

But meanwhile….these are the days, too. Spring has sprung, and life doesn’t stop. Wildflowers, stars, shrooms, donuts….Neil freaking Diamond! Carpe Diem, Carpe Scrotum…..whatever you do, just enjoy it.

 

 

 

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Wanderhussy: NEVADA Edition!!

001 300x225 Wanderhussy: NEVADA Edition!!After working my ass off in Vegas the first couple weeks of February, it was finally time for another roadtrip with my sister…this time, one that I was ESPECIALLY looking forward to: Nevada!!

I’ve lived here in Vegas for almost 15 years, and although I’ve explored southern Nevada more than most residents…I still felt like I was missing out. Nevada is a HUGE, vast state, and even my wandering ass had only really ever made occasional forays into the wilds outside of the U.S. 95. corridor between Vegas and Reno. I just knew there was some fucked-up shit out there, and I was super excited to explore it!

Screen Shot 2015 03 01 at 1.45.39 PM 240x300 Wanderhussy: NEVADA Edition!!Now, a huge chunk of central Nevada is a no-go because it belongs to the U.S. Gov’ment as part of the Nevada Test and Training Range (you know, where they used to test aboveground nukes back in the day, and where Area 51 is). So my initial itinerary called for us to circle all around this no-man’s-land, heading up the 95 to Gerlach and Winnemucca, east over to Elko and Ely, and then down along the 93 back to Vegas. However, the weather turned nasty as fuck, and it ended up being too freakin’ cold up north for us to camp or even really enjoy ourselves exploring. So we amended our itinerary and made this a Southern Nevada trip…with the second Northern half to come later this year, when the weather warms up!

NOTE: I have a TON of photos from this trip posted on my Facebook page at www.facebook.com/wonderhusssy…so check that out, cuz I can only post so many here. Also, in keeping with my New Year’s resolution to start making more videos, I recorded several shitty travelogues along the way as well, which are all at www.youtube.com/wonderhussy. Please excuse their crappiness; I was learning as I went. The sound is shitty on some of them, and my hand isn’t as steady as it could be. But I’m learning!!!

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Getting ready at the McDonald’s in Pahrump, on the way to Death Valley

Anyway, my trip started sort of unofficially with this photo shoot I had booked out at Death Valley…which technically isn’t part of Nevada, but it’s so close to the border that it might as well be. This awesome photographer from the SF Bay Area had hired me to pose for some super arty night sky stuff — he normally goes out with a startracker and does really bad-ass long exposures of the stars and whatnot, but he got the idea to add a nude model into the mix, so that’s where I came in.

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Inside the Amargosa Opera House Hotel

I met him out at the ever-fabulous Amargosa Opera House hotel, right on the border of Nevada and California, where he had gotten us both rooms for the night so that we could stay out late shooting and then just come back and crash, without having to drive all the way back to Vegas. Nice! I’ve stayed in that hotel before, and it’s old as balls, crusty as fuck… and SUPER BAD ASS! They say it’s haunted, if you believe that kind o’ claptrap…but all I know is that it’s very atmospheric and quirky. It was originally owned by this eccentric ballerina from New York who retired there, and who even now at the age of 90 or so still performs occasionally in the adjacent Opera House. She even painted a mural of a fake audience on the wall, for those times when there was no one around to watch her dance. I love it!!

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If I don’t get a vehicle pass to Burning Man, I’ll be forced to ride a horse there!

Anyway, I dug the shit out of this photographer the minute I first saw him sitting in the lobby, hunched over his laptop trying to buy Burning Man tickets. As you may know, the first chunk of Burning Man tickets went on sale Feb. 18, when something like 80,000 people logged in all at once to buy 40,000 tickets. Supply way exceeded demand, so a lot of people were left disappointed…even after sitting there on their laptops for an hour or more, trying to get through. Apparently, some tech-savvy douchers hacked the system and sneaked in ahead of the line to scoop up a number of the tickets…but the rest were bought the honest, old-fashioned way: by regular douchers and dickheads who don’t plan to contribute anything to the festival, but who just wanna go ogle naked chicks and fistpump. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! I personally know several people who fit into this category, and the balance is tipping so much these days that I honestly believe Burning Man is getting ready to jump the shark (you might say it already did). Anyway, I did get my own tickets as part of this art project I help out with every year…but I still need a vehicle pass, so if anyone has an extra one, hit me up (they’re trying to limit the number of cars/pollution from people driving up there, so they only issued a small number of car passes, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to drag my trailer up there now).

As it happened the poor photographer wasn’t able to get tickets, but he wasn’t really stressed over it since he’s been going to Burning Man on and off since like 1995, so he knew what the fuck was up. Anyway, he was a super cool dude and we hit it off right away — one of those emaciated, artsy Tom-Waits-type fuckers with a bushy head of fabulous gray hair and a penchant for Art and Adventure. A kindred spirit for sure!

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pic by C. Jackson

We cruised around Death Valley all afternoon, shooting at this AMAZING little oasis called Darwin Falls, up behind Panamint Springs, where there’s a lush, semi-tropical little pool and waterfall year-round — even in the midst of the brutal, searing Death Valley summer. That place was amazing!

Then, once the sun went down we headed over to the low, rolling Mesquite sand dunes for the night sky stuff. The weather was pretty nice, fairly balmy, and I had my fabulous fuzzy new hot springs robe to keep me warm in between shots, so it was really pretty comfortable. The only bummer was, I forgot to bring some booze/weed/shrooms — of course I had no way of knowing I would hit it off so well with this photographer, so I hadn’t packed any…but it would have been wonderful to sit out on the dunes under the stars drinking wine and getting high.

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the fabulous Mesquite sand dunes

As it was, we had so much fun shooting and talking that we got totally lost trying to hike back to the car in the darkness, and ended up walking along the highway for two miles, me in my bathrobe like Jeff Lebowski, him in this woolen peacoat and fedora like R. Crumb. This kooky old Brazilian photographer out in the dunes told us he’d been trying to wave at us with a flashlight to let us know we were walking the wrong direction, but we were so busy chatting that we never noticed. Oh, well — it’s never a bad thing to burn extra calories!

When we got back, we shot some more nudes in the hotel room and then sat out front of the hotel on this little patio, smoking and drinking and listening to Emerson, Lake & Palmer’s version of “Fanfare for the Common Man” late into the night. FAR OUT!!! It was one of the most surreal, and most fun, photo shoots I’ve ever been on. That guy is legit as fuck, and I can’t wait to shoot with him again!

Anyway, the next morning I was feeling pretty rough, but after chugging some coffee and bidding adieu to Tom Waits, I cruised back into Vegas by way of Pahrump, met my sister at my house, and we officially started our road trip around the Great State of Nevada. IT WAS ***AMAZING***!

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At the fertility temple

From Vegas, we headed up U.S. 95 north, making a brief stop at the Sekhmet fertility temple to ask the Goddess for a blessing on our travels. While there, I finally got to meet the Priestess herself, this wonderful woman in a purple top who lives out there and cares for the shrine. She invited us to come back for one of the ceremonies they have out there, like the upcoming Beltane or the Spring Equinox, when a bunch of women all get together and chant and burn shit and whatnot. It sounds fabulous!

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Unassuming Yucca Mountain

Then we continued up north toward Beatty, stopping for a late lunch and veering off on a side road to check out a ghost town one of the locals had told me was up a dirt road at the base of Yucca Mountain. You know Yucca Mountain — the site where they plan to store all the U.S.’s nuclear waste in the near future? Well, shit! I didn’t realize how close it is to Vegas — only about 90 miles, just outside Beatty. YIKES! Oh well, I guess they have to store it somewhere — and as I was about to learn on my road trip, central Nevada always ends up being the dumping ground for that kinda shit. The gov’ment doesn’t care about the random collection of kooks and rednecks out there!

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Hi there!

Anyhoo, I never did find a ghost town up there — just a lonely old hunting cabin, so we continued on our way north toward Goldfield, stopping for a few sunset photos at the Junk Car Forest, and then continuing north thru town to camp out overnight at the fabulous, isolated little Alkali Hot Springs. I wasn’t sure camping was allowed at the springs, but the super-friendly kooky hippie lady at the Goldfield Visitors’ Center assured us that it was OK — the springs are technically on private property, but the guy who owns them doesn’t mind people camping there so long as they clean up after themselves. Awwww!

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Soaking at Alkali hot spring

We set up camp by the springs and proceeded to enjoy a fabulous sunset soak, with the most amazing wintry landscape before us. When it got dark, my sis busted out a candle and these amazing colored glowing floaty balls she bought me as a gift — you set them in the water, and they float around the pool adding ambiance. Awesome! We soaked for awhile, then had a campfire and then crashed out pretty early. No one bothered us — it was a fairly quiet place to camp, except for the road leading to some mine nearby was pretty busy with truck traffic until about 8pm. After that it was very peaceful.

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My new friend

In the morning, I was enjoying a peaceful sunrise soak when this wild-haired old man showed up out of nowhere, asking very timidly if I was going to be much longer. I guess he was nervous because I was naked, but I just invited him in to join me in the tub, and when my sister woke up we all three enjoyed a nice, friendly soak with some excellent conversation. I just love the kinds of people you meet at hot springs — and the kinds of conversations you have! This guy was amazing — a vandweller with severe PTSD who can’t stay in any towns that have modern cars, the kind with alarms that go off when you open the door, because it sets off his PTSD. So he sticks to backwoods little towns where people drive old clunkers — like Goldfield! He had been camping out by the Alkali springs for a couple of months now, and he was a real fount of information — he told us that some Goldfield residents who don’t have indoor plumbing use Alkali hot spring as the town bathtub, coming out there to soap up and shave and everything!! YUK! But I guess someone also comes to scrub it out every now and then, because it was a pretty clean little pool. I recommend soaking here 100%!

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How to file a mining claim

After we finished soaking, he invited us across the valley to his camp, which he had set up near an abandoned old corral. He served us some super-crappy instant coffee and gave us some advice on filing mining claims — we met more miners on this trip; apparently backcountry Nevada is full of busy little beavers pecking and digging and gouging at the earth, trying to pry loose its sweet, sweet minerals. He also tipped us off to these amazing hot springs down in New Mexico that he said we could all go in on together, and buy from out under the current owner, some lady with whom he had a grievance over an unpaid debt. I took his cell number and told him I’d think about it.

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Dinky Diner!

Next, my sis and I headed back into Goldfield for some REAL coffee at the Dinky Diner, and then kinda bummed around town for a bit, looking at all the kooky art and artifacts laying around everywhere. That town is like a mini Jerome, AZ — full of artsy kooks. I love it! We also spent quite a bit of time chatting with the proprietor of this rockhound/gold panning souvenir shop

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Sunbaked dolls on an art car in Goldfield

on the northern outskirts of town, who gave us a fairly in-depth lesson in gold mining, peppering his lecture with references to “Orientals” and “slant-eyes” before offering us a couple of Chick tracts. If you don’t know, Chick tracts are these SUPER-creepy little comic books that hardcore Christian evangelists hand out, trying to convert you from your sinful life of heavy metal/drugs/alcohol/greed/etc. I’ve collected them for years because they’re SO weird, but this guy was completely serious when he gave them to us, informing us that none other than the Holy Ghost had sent us to him to receive this message. That guy was a trip, but we burned those goddamn Chick tracts in the campfire that night. I prefer to keep to my current path of sin, thank you!!

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Fish Lake Hot Springs

After touring the evangelist miner’s stepdaughter’s new cafe that she’s about to open at the north end of town, my sis and I headed further north, for a late lunch at the fabulous grand old Mizpah Hotel in Tonopah, where we had (what else but) Miner’s Stew, served steaming hot in these amazing bread bowls. OMG I have rarely eaten such a delicious meal — seriously, it was amazing! Again, as on our Arizona trip, we were trying to be cheap by eating only one meal a day, and camping for free whenever possible — so to that end, we next headed west toward the NV/CA state line to camp for the night at the barren, desolate Fish Lake Hot Springs, out in the scrubby desert near the town of Dyer. But before leaving Tonopah, we stopped in at the Tonopah Station, where you can roll the dice for a free hotel room — they have this cage at the front desk with three oversized novelty dice in it, and you flip the cage to roll the dice. If all three come up the same number, you win a free room for the night! So we thought we’d better at least try to win a room before heading out to camp. Of course, we lost — so camping it was.

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Soaking at Fish Lake

But if you have to camp out, might as well be a badass place like Fish Lake Springs! It’s basically a big warm pond with an adjacent concrete soaking tub full of hot water, with some BBQ grills and a vault toilet nearby….in the middle of this vast, desolate valley. Not the most atmospheric soak, but still cool in its own way. I’d been there once before, last year with my frenemy Alex, and had always wanted to camp there…so I finally got my wish. We were really lucky with the weather — I guess it gets pretty windy out there, being as it’s located in the middle of a V A S T, barren valley…but on the night we camped, it was calm and pretty nice. Cold as fuck, though — there was snow on the mountains all around, and I had to add extra peppermint schnapps to my cocoa and put HotHands in my socks in order to sleep. But I survived!

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Morning soak at Fish Lake

Fish Lake’s soaking policy is sort of play-it-by-ear, textile-wise — after dark, we soaked in the nude with this cool Canadian snowbird couple, but in the morning we wore bikinis because there was a family with kids camped nearby, and we didn’t want to piss anyone off. Whatever! I really hate having to tote around a soggy bikini, especially in winter….but it was worth it. We had a great morning soak, then headed back out on the road toward our next destination — these remote hot springs in the mountains outside the town of Hawthorne. (Nevada has a TON of natural, undeveloped hot springs…so we aimed to hit as as many as possible on this trip.)

Hawthorne is this über-creepy little town in the middle of nowhere, NV that owes its existence to a U.S. Army Depot base that doubles as a munitions storage facility — they store the ammo in dozens of creepy, molehill-like bunkers in the desert all around town, and it’s all very Twilight Zone. The town milks the jingoist shtick by billing itself as the “Most Patriotic Town in America,” and indeed, everywhere you look it’s Red-White-n-Blue, Stars-n-Stripes. But overall, it’s a pretty bleak, blighted little outpost; I pass thru every year on my way to and from Burning Man, and I’ve always been fascinated by it. Since the weather forecast was for snow and sub-20-degree temperatures, we decided to bail on camping and get a cheap room in town for the night, and do a little investigating. But first, we headed into the mountains looking for these hot springs.

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I HATE giving up!!

Walker Warm Springs are located in the eastern Sierra near the CA/NV state line, in the mountains west of Hawthorne and east of Yosemite. I had the GPS coordinates, but following them took us waaaaay out into this SUPER-remote valley, miles and miles from anything, and I lost my signal and couldn’t figure out where we were after awhile. We finally came across these two adventure-bro-types in a lifted pickup who told us that they had tried going to the same springs, but that the road was impassable, so we’d better give up (even though my sis has a 4×4 SUV)…so with much gnashing of teeth, we agreed we’d better just turn around and go back into town. Boooo! I hate giving up!!!

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Creepy-ass Walker Lake motel

So we cruised back to Hawthorne and got a room for the night. The local casino, the El Capitan, is under renovation and is apparently becoming quite uppity, because they wanted $60 for a room that night!! We thought we could do better, so we headed up north of town to nearby Walker Lake, this huge bright blue lake out in the middle of the desert that has a really cool, crumbly old nautical-themed resort on the shore that I’d always wanted to check out. The whole scene was totally Twilight Zone — this huge, vast lake in the middle of nowhere, that no one ever uses, and which is said to have a secret tunnel at the bottom leading all the way to the Pacific Ocean by way of Malibu, thru which the U.S. Gov’ment transports top-secret USOs (that’s Unidentified Submerged Objects)…and then this shitty, crumbling motel on the shore. Alas, no one was at the front desk, and despite our repeated phone calls and buzzer-ringing, no one ever showed up. So we resigned ourselves to staying back in Hawthorne proper.

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The ominous Sand-n-Sage

Back in town, we got a room at the super-cracky-looking Sand-n-Sage Lodge. The price was right, and the man at the front desk was SUPER friendly and cool — this sprightly, toothless little imp who made us feel right at home, even calling us in our room later that night to let us know that he’d be making breakfast at 7am. Talk about hospitality! The room itself was pretty gnarly, but clean enough — you can see for yourself in this video I made (remember, my video skills are VERY rudimentary, so bear with me as I figure this shit out):

Anyway, we chatted with  the front desk guy for quite awhile — he confirmed the Walker Lake tunnel theory, going so far as to claim that “no one” has ever seen the bottom of that lake, it’s so deep — and then we headed to the El Capitan for some nasty-ass, greasy-spoon diner food. Then we headed across the street to the fabulously patriotic-looking Joe’s Tavern for a nightcap.

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Joe’s (Patriotic) Tavern

What a cool place!! I was afraid it was gonna be one of those surly locals’ bars that don’t take kindly to traveling big-city types, but I was very wrong — the bartender was cool as fuck, helping me figure out a palatable drink utilizing apple pie schnapps, and the other clientele were also exceptionally friendly. We met this cool black couple who had met and married in town — the guy was Wayne Newton’s bodyguard’s nephew, but moved to Hawthorne to be near his mom, and the woman worked at the US Army Depot. They both loved Hawthorne, even though they filled us in on the town’s racist history, when black people weren’t even allowed in the El Cap. But times changed, and in fact that’s where they met — dancing at the El Cap! What a cool couple — they kept offering to buy us drinks, but we were pooped so we headed back to to Sand-n-Sage pretty early and zonked out.

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Front desk clerk at the Sand-n-Sage

The next morning we got up super early to avail ourselves of the desk clerk’s breakfast spread. I tiptoed into the office to help myself to some coffee — I didn’t want to wake him, as his living quarters are right behind the office, but I think he waited all night for me to come in because the second I opened the door he magically appeared, all rumple-headed in his jammies, and kept me company as I ate and drank. What a nice man — I mean seriously! At the time of my stay there were only one or two other rooms occupied, so I guess he was lonely; he can’t leave the motel because he’s the only one in charge of the front desk, which is open 24/7, and the owner moved all the way to Reno, so she’s no help. I don’t think he ever gets a day off :/

After breakfast, my sis and I headed back into the mountains, determined this time to find those fuckin’ hot springs — ain’t no way two bros in a truck are gonna kill MY adventure, dammit!!! This time we had different directions, from a book, and we decided to take the road as far as possible and then just hike in once it got too burly. We needed the exercise anyway, after that gross-ass diner food the night before.We made it pretty far, to the point where it was only about another 3 miles or so…and we decided to just hoof it the rest of the way. But first, we busted out the camp stove and made some hot cocoa with plenty of peppermint schapps to fortify us — it was COLD as FUCK up there in those mountains, with snow on the ground (not enough, however, to melt for our cocoa water).

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Brewing cocoa

Sure enough, after about three miles of hiking down into this desolate wintry valley, we passed an old mine, a rusted-out schoolbus, some bloody cow entrails….and then at last came upon the Walker River, and this fabulous little stone soaking pool!! It was one of the most beautiful, isolated little soaking tubs I’ve ever seen — technically only 37 miles from Hawthorne, but they were 37 burly-ass miles. Although, apparently the Hilton sisters have been known to soak there, as their family owns a ranch nearby….so I guess it’s not that bad ass :/

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“Soaking” at Walker Warm Springs

Alas, however, it was SUCH a freezing cold day that we couldn’t get the pool heated up warm enough to actually soak in — so we just kinda got our feet wet, and then headed back up the trail to our car. Oh, well — it was still a fun hike! Here’s another shitty video I made showing the hike:

Next we planned to head up north to the tiny town of Austin, near the geographical center of Nevada, around which are clustered a shit ton of hot springs. But first, on our way out of town we stopped at the Hawthorne Ordnance Museum — a crazy collection of kooky bombs and weapons and shit that is out of this world!!! I’m here to tell you, that town is ALL kinds of fucked-up…but I love it! I definitely recommend stopping there if you’re ever passing thru that way.

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At the Hawthorne Ordnance Museum

Before heading out to Austin, which is very isolated and remote, we stopped in the fair-sized metropolis of Fallon to stock up on HotHands and schnapps and stuff, because we still planned to try and camp out at some point — even though the low that night in Austin was supposed to be about 18 degrees! It was around then that we aborted mission on exploring the northern part of the state — we decided to postpone that part for warmer weather, and focus on southern and central NV for this trip. We figured we could do one or two more motel nights up in the central area, then head back down south to warmer climes in the Mojave desert for more free camping.

So anyway, after taking advantage of being in a decent-sized city by getting some non-greasy-spoon food at an awesome Vietnamese place in Fallon, we headed east along US 50 — a/k/a The Loneliest Road in America. This highway is SO

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The Loneliest Road

desolate — at least the part between Fallon and Austin, and actually all the way to Delta, Utah — that the local communities decided to just roll with it and milk the lonely shtick as hard as possible. You can even get a “Loneliest Highway Survival Guide,” and have your “Loneliest Road Passport” stamped at the various podunk little towns along the way. FUN!!!

It was getting dark, and it was freezing, so we didn’t have time nor inclination to stop along the way at some of the awesome, lonely sites — Pony Express trail stops, salt flats, and this AMAZING-looking little bar with a lighted neon sign in the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. I have to go back there sometime in the summer — it’s all BLM land up there, so you can camp for free!!! But because it was so cold and gloomy, we hauled ass straight for Austin, and got a room at the very aptly named Cozy Mountain Motel.

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Cozy!

What a difference from the Sand-n-Sage!! This motel was the same price, but a world apart in coziness and cleanliness (I don’t mean to bag on the Sand-n-Sage; it was fine, but the Cozy Mtn Motel was AMAZING). So even though it was around 18 degrees that night, we were snug and warm — no HotHands needed!

In the morning, we got up and went

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The International in Austin, NV

across the street for coffee at the International Hotel and Cafe — this AMAZING old building that had been built from the charred wreckage of the original International, over in Virginia City. The original International had been a seven-story palace where even Lillie Langtry performed, and in fact where the concept of the “Red Carpet” was invented (Miss Langtry didn’t want to get her dress muddy crossing the street, so they unfurled a roll of carpet for her that happened to be red), but it burned down in the silver boom years and they shipped the wreckage out to Austin, where they slapped together this new joint. It was an amazing place — one side was a saloon, with this ornate carved wooden bar that had been shipped “around the horn” all the way from London back in the day. The other side was a cafe, which is where we went for coffee.

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Help yourselves!

When we entered the cafe, the frazzle-haired old proprietor was sitting at a table pontificating on terrorism and Muslims and whatnot. I guess he didn’t feel like getting up, so he told us to help ourselves to coffee — “behind the bar; cups are over there.” Nice! The only other person working there was busy cooking breakfast for this group of Aussie roadtrippers, and I guess they’re looking to hire a waitress…so for the meantime, we had to serve ourselves. I even stepped in and refilled everyone’s coffee, at one point — far out; I always wanted to know what it’s like to be a truck-stop waitress!! It beats being a lot lizard, I’ll tell you that!

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With Vic

After a few cups of coffee, the grizzled proprietor, Vic, gave us a tour of the saloon and chatted with us for awhile, asking us where we were off to next. We told him we were going to check out Spencer Hot Springs, right outside town, and he said he’d try to come out there and join us…but alas, he never did. Boooo! He was an amazingly crusty old kook, and I would have loved nothing more than to have had a nice long soak and conversation with him. Oh, well….another time, for sure!!

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Spencer Hot Springs

So anyway, we left town and headed out to Spencer Hot Springs, just south of US 50 near the NV 376 junction. WHAT AN AMAZING PLACE!! Kinda like the hot springs off the 395 near Mammoth Mountain in CA, these hot springs are located in a huge meadow that is dotted with a bunch of all-natural hot soaks, with snow-capped mountains all around. GORGEOUS — and again, it’s all BLM land, so in better weather you could camp out there for FREE!! I definitely plan to go back there in the summertime — it’s amazing.

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Snow?! What snow?

There are three main tubs at Spencer, so we headed for the hottest one, where this lonely, hardy Canadian guy was camped out en route from a hockey tournament in Vegas to his home in the Bay Area. This guy was so hardcore, he hadn’t even bothered to put up his tent the night before — just slept in a sleeping bag with a woolen blanket inside, under the stars. Holy shit!! It was cold as FUCK out there — that guy was NUTS! We asked him if he minded us soaking with him — sometimes people just want to soak in solitude, ya know? — but I guess two naked chicks rolling in out of nowhere probably made his day. He turned out to be really cool, and we enjoyed a nice long soak with him, with some very pleasant conversation.

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It was COLD!!!

In the afternoon, we got out and dried off and headed on our way, driving a bit farther south to try and find this other soak in the area called Diana’s Punch Bowl, which is said to run out of the top of this cinder-cone type volcanic formation. It sounded badass…but alas, we ran low on gas before we could find it, and had to abort mission and head back down south to Tonopah icon sad Wanderhussy: NEVADA Edition!! I hate it when that happens! This is why I need a big, badass desert 4X4 rig, with jacked-up off-road tires and a 50-gallon gas can strapped to the back. Dangit!!!

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Clown Motel again

Since we were back in Tonopah anyway, we decided to do one more motel night at the fabulous Clown Motel — always a fun place to stop over. But first, we went back to the Tonopah Station to roll for a free room again, just in case…and we both lost again icon sad Wanderhussy: NEVADA Edition!! (You might think the dice are rigged, but I have a friend who swears he won a free room once.) So, Clown Motel it was — I stayed there back in September, in one of the beat-up old smoking rooms, and it was pretty gross…but this time we got a nonsmoking room, and it was fine — somewhere between the Sand-n-Sage and the Cozy Mountain Motel. See for yourself:

Because we had a nonsmoking room, we headed to the graveyard next door to smoke a joint before going to bed. While there, I decided to look for the legendary tombstone of this early pioneer who supposedly died eating library paste (!?!). My sis and I stumbled around that graveyard in the freezing cold dark for at least an hour, but never did find that tombstone (I later found out it’s actually in the Goldfield cemetery)….but, at least I got some fresh air and was able to make another one of my shitty practice videos:

The next morning it was still FREEZING as FUCK outside, so we decided to head south at once — but first, a brief detour north to the old ghost town of Belmont, where it is said the Manson Family hung out for awhile just before committing the murders in L.A., when they were cruising around the desert trying to find a hidey-hole. Apparently they left some graffiti on the courthouse wall in Belmont, and we thought that would be pretty cool to see, so we cruised up to check it out. Belmont itself was pretty cool, but deserted…and alas, there was no one around to let us into the courthouse so we could check out the Manson Family graffiti. (They are trying to restore the courthouse, so they keep it locked up tighter than a nun’s….well, you know.) Boooooooo icon sad Wanderhussy: NEVADA Edition!!

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Graffiti in the Belmont Courthouse

From Belmont, we headed back down south to U.S. 6, which goes all the way from Plymouth Rock, MA to Bishop, CA (it used to go all the way to Long Beach, and was the longest highway in America!). We took U.S. 6 east to where it meets up with NV 375, a/k/a the Extraterrestrial Highway, intending to head south from there to Rachel, NV – home of the Little A’Le’Inn and the closest outpost to the top-secret government base at Area 51.

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Middle of N O W H E R E

But before heading south on the Extraterrestrial Highway, we stopped at the junction with U.S. 6 because a friend had tipped me off to an amazing abandoned hot springs resort right there off the highway!!! This friend had in turn been tipped off by some locals in Rachel, who told him that the “KEEP OUT” signs could be safely ignored, and that it was a great place to soak. Boy, WAS IT EVER!!!!!!!!!

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Mud!

OMG, I have rarely (if ever) been to such an amazing place — right out in the open, in the middle of this vast, sunbaked desert valley, right at the intersection of two lonely, very infrequently traveled highways, this crumbling old hot springs resort sat fading in the winter sun. There was an abandoned old bar & grill, right down the way from a beautiful hot springs pool and changing rooms…all just sitting there, empty. I don’t understand how it ever got enough traffic to be profitable — when I say it’s in the middle of nowhere, I mean it’s in the middle of N O W H E R E ! ! ! ! See for yourself in this somewhat-less-shitty video I made:

I mean, holy shit!! That’s the kind of place roadtrippers dream about! And, as a bonus, there were all kinds of busted-up old buildings and shacks and shit around the area….a photographer’s paradise! Alas, however….the site is at least a 5 hour drive from Vegas, so it’s not really feasible as a nude photo shoot location. Although, if you really want to go there….email me icon smile Wanderhussy: NEVADA Edition!! I’m sure we can work something out!

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At the A’Le’Inn

Anyway, after soaking awhile and goofing around taking photos, we headed south down the Extraterrestrial Highway to Rachel, where we stopped in at the Little A’Le’Inn for lunch. We had originally planned to stay the night in one of their “motel rooms,” which are actually trailers with shared bathrooms for every two rooms, but you also get access to a free library of Alien Abduction VHS/DVDs….but the weather down south was much better, so we decided to save money and try camping out again. I had heard about this ghost town called Delamar down in a valley outside Vegas, so we thought we might try staying there.

But this redneck chick at the A’Le’Inn told us we were nuts — according to her, Delamar is haunted!! Apparently she used to do coyote-calling contests down there, so she knew what she was talking about….and besides being haunted, it’s also plagued by mountain lions. Yikes! Still, we forged ahead with our plan….because while I do believe in mountain lions, I don’t believe in ghosts.

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Crystal Springs

On our way down to Delamar, we stopped off at Crystal Springs, this beautiful little wooded soaking pond outside the town of Alamo, right at the intersection of the Extraterrestrial Highway and U.S. 93. Alas, it’s fenced off and marked “PRIVATE PROPERTY,” I think because it was a stop for the old Mormon wagon trains back in the day, and some Mormon asshole is trying to preserve it. We sneaked in anyway, and it was beautiful — but the water is only about 80 degrees or so, so it was too cold to soak in, anyway. Let the Mormons have it, I say!

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Delamar, NV

Then we continued on to Delamar. I can’t believe I’d never been to this ghost town — only about 2-3 hours from Vegas, but amazingly cool!!! The road in is pretty hardcore — for most of it, you’re just on a washboard dirt road through an amazingly dense and beautiful Joshua tree forest…but the last couple of miles or so, when you’re climbing up into the hills on the opposite side of the valley, are pretty hardcore. You’d need a 4×4 with offroad tires, for sure.

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Ruins of Delamar

But my sister’s 4Runner made it just fine, and we rolled in at sunset to find the most amazing, beautiful ruins of a lonely little ghost town — tons of crumbling stone ruins shining in the golden light of pre-sunset. FABULOUS!!!!!!! We set up camp on a bluff overlooking the entire valley, and it was absolutely amazing. No ghosts or mountain lions or anything bothered us the entire night — we didn’t see a soul until the next morning, when two camo-clad rednecks blew through on an ATV. Totally desolate — and totally awesome!!

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Old glass shards, soon to be embedded into my backyard wall!

In the morning, we walked around picking through the ruins of the old buildings, scavenging for bits of broken colored glass and other goodies, like rusted-out old Levis buttons and shards of old pottery. It was a bonanza!! I collected a bunch of beautiful glass and stuff to use in the mosaic I’m planning for the cinderblock wall in my backyard — that way it’ll be an authentic Nevada mural, ya know? There was some pretty cool stuff out there!

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Delamar cemetery

On the way out, we stopped at the lonely little cemetery…and when we finally got back into cell range, I Googled the history of the town to find out what had gone down there. Apparently it was a gold-mining town, but it was nicknamed “The Widowmaker” because the gold was embedded in some kind of rock that created a ton of silica dust when it was crushed, and a bunch of miners died from Miner’s Lung icon sad Wanderhussy: NEVADA Edition!! That little cemetery out there did seem like a pretty lonely place to be buried…especially when you consider the fact that some of these asshole miners came all the way from Ireland and shit to make their greedy-ass fortunes. Dying and being buried alone in the desert was a big fear…and a reality for many. But, at least they didn’t die from eating library paste!!!!!

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Abandoned warm springs in Moapa

After leaving Delamar, we continued back south through the town of Moapa, only about an hour outside Vegas, but home to some very curious things. There’s a wild animal sanctuary out there called Roos ‘N’ More, where you can go play with armadilloes and meerkats and cotatimundi and shit…but unfortunately it wasn’t open that day, so we just checked out this freaky old abandoned warm springs resort out there that used to be owned by Howard Hughes, and supposedly all the Vegas showgirls back in the day used to go out there to tan in the nude. After Howard Hughes died, some Mormon asshole bought it and turned it into a “family-friendly” warm spring pool…but there was some kinda fire in 2010, and now the ruins just stand there, drained of water and useless to anyone. Boooooo!

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Valley of Fire

From Moapa, we continued on through the freaky little Mormon town of Overton (we were on the Utah side of the state now, so everything was had a Mormon taint to it), stopping at a grocery store to stock up before heading into fabulous, incomparably beautiful Valley of Fire to camp for the night. Even though it’s only an hour from Vegas, I have always wanted to camp out at Valley of Fire, because it’s so astonishingly beautiful and otherworldly — it looks like Mars! The rocks out there are all red sandstone, with weird caves and holes and faces that would probably appear to you if you were shrooming…so it just always seemed like a fabulous place to camp out. And guess what — it was!!!

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Out campsite at Valley of Fire’s Arch Rock Campground

The only bummer about camping at Valley of Fire is, you can’t just throw down your tent anywhere — you’re limited to one of two or three designated campgrounds…and you have to pay for the privilege :/ Still, I ponied up the $18 Nevada residents’ fee…and it was worth it. We camped at Arch Rock Campground, the least developed campground there….and it was actually totally amazing. Each campsite is kind of tucked away into the red rocks, and feels very private and isolated…so even though we were pretty much back in civilization at that point, we could still pretend we were out in the wilderness. Fabulous!

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Boozing by the campfire

Alas, I guess I got pretty fucked up that night…because for the first time in my life, I actually blacked out, and couldn’t remember anything after about 9pm. I didn’t even drink that much — just a couple glasses of wine, and then about 3/4 of my hot cocoa and peppermint schnapps — and then the next thing I knew, I woke up at 4am in my tent!! For the life of me, I couldn’t remember getting to bed…but I guess I did OK, because I had HotHands in my socks and I had even taken the time to wash my face with a wet wipe. But I didn’t remember any of it!!! The worst part was, I was on my period, and I couldn’t for the life of me remember taking out my tampon — I guess I did, because it was nowhere in evidence the next morning….but where the fuck was it?!?!?!? Yikes! I still can’t explain what happened — I hadn’t drank that much, but I guess I was just tired from being on my period or whatever. Hmmmm!

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Ancient petroglyphs at Valley of Fire

Anyway, I felt fine when I woke up in the morning — a little hung over, and still some menstrual cramps…but I wasn’t about to let that stop me from enjoying a fabulous, beautiful day!! The weather down south was beautiful — warm and sunny and perfect for hiking, so that’s just what we did — cruise around Valley of Fire hiking up to all the popular spots. They have ancient petroglyphs carved into the rocks by Indians that are around 4,000 years old, so we checked those out…and then did some bouldering and scrambling on our own. That place is basically like a giant playground — the sandstone is easy to climb on, so you can romp around for hours like a kid on a jungle gym, not even noticing how many calories you’re burning. My kind of workout!!!

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HA!!!!!!!!!

Then, just to spite the asshole ranger out there (they don’t allow nude photography at Valley of Fire, and in fact I’ve been kicked out of there before, mid-shoot) I climbed alllllll the way to the top of one of the rock outcroppings, and stripped off all my clothes so my long-suffering sis could take a fabulous panoramic shot of me NAKED AS A JAYBIRD, with all of Valley of Fire spread out below me. SUCK IT, ASSHOLES! I mean, come on — it’s not like the original inhabitants (the Paiute Indians) didn’t run around there naked anyway, back in the day!! Get over it!!!!!

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Rogers Spring, a warm pond (about 80 degrees) by Lake Mead

After exacting my revenge thusly, I got dressed, climbed back down, and we headed out the back entrance toward Lake Mead, where we planned to get some food at the fabulously 1970s-nautical-themed Echo Bay Resort, and then find a place to camp out for the night. ALAS, I hadn’t been to Echo Bay since 2009, and come to find out the restaurant and motel are closed — the water level at Lake Mead has gone down so far that I guess business literally dried up, and the place had gone out of business years before icon sad Wanderhussy: NEVADA Edition!!

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THIS is the kind of rig I need!!!!!

So we had to keep going to the next outpost that had a restaurant, which was Callville Bay. But the bartender at the restaurant there told us the kitchen was already closed, and all they had was deep-fried bar food. Well, by this point we were starving from hiking and scrambling around Valley of Fire all day, so we went ahead and ordered one of everything — deep-fried chips and salsa, deep-fried chicken tenders, deep-fried popcorn shrimp, deep-fried fish-n-chips. Y U C K ! ! ! I’ve never had a worse meal in my life, I tell you!! It was horrifying. I stuffed my face, but then immediately wished I could vomit it all up. And to tell the truth, it was so greasy that I probably could have…with minimal effort :-/

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Goldstrike Canyon in spring

By now the sun was setting, and we were so exhausted and greasy that we totally pussed out on camping — we were only about a 45-minute drive from my house, so rather than unload all our camping shit and go through all that madness again, we cheated and went home to sleep in real beds at my place. But in the morning (well, afternoon), we got up for one final stop on our Southern Nevada roadtrip: the Goldstrike Canyon hotsprings, down by the Hoover Dam!

These hot springs are one of my all-time favorite hikes — you park at a trailhead just before crossing the Hoover Dam, then hike and scramble your way down a boulder-strewn canyon for about two hours until you reach the shore of the Colorado River. Along the way you pass several amazing, clear soaking pools full of piping hot water — it’s really a magical place! See for yourself:

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View of Hoover Dam bypass bridge from the river

After checking out the amazing view of the Hoover Dam bypass bridge down on the riverbank, we hiked back up the canyon to soak in the best of the hot spring pools for awhile, chatting with this awesome group of middle-aged redneck types who get together every year and kayak down the river, like my friends and I did last April, camping out at the Ringbolt Hot Spring beach for a few days. Talking to them really whetted my appetite to do that trip again — you put in below the Hoover Dam, then float downstream soaking at the various hot springs along the river, camping out at the most amazing of them all — Ringbolt, a/k/a White Rock Canyon hot springs. We had such an amazing time doing it last year….I think it’s time to organize another trip! If anyone wants to do it, hit me up! icon smile Wanderhussy: NEVADA Edition!!

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TEATIME!!!

After the rednecks got out and kayaked off on their way, this other amazing trio of kids got in to soak — a girl and two guys. One of the guys busted out a little camp stove, and set about brewing up a pot of artisanal tea — apparently, he runs some kind of super-hardcore artisanal tea shop in Seattle called the Bioluminescence Tea Lounge, and he offered to serve us all tea right there in the hot spring! It was amazing!!!! He even had a little teapot, and these little cups and everything, that he’d packed all the way down the canyon in his backpack. Fabulous!!! I guess his idea is to one day start an adventure-hiking-tea-tour-company….but in the meantime, he was headed on down to Flagstaff for a job as a lumberjack, for some ecologically-minded tree-cutting operation that only chops down invasive species like tamarisk, etc. FAR OUT!!!!!! Those kids were SO FREAKING COOL — like I said before, I just love the kinds of people you meet in hot springs icon smile Wanderhussy: NEVADA Edition!!

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Nevadaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!

Anyway, that little tea ceremony in the hot spring pool below the Hoover Dam was the perfect way to wrap up our fabulous Southern Nevada roadtrip. Like I said at the beginning of this blog — Nevada has a reputation as a barren, nuke-ridden shithole…but I’m here to tell you, if you just get off your fat ass and leave the slot machines and boring-ass Vegas suburbs behind, there is a wealth of fabulousness out there to discover!! I LOVE IT!!!!! I daresay I had an even better time on this trip than I did on my Arizona roadtrip — and that’s saying a lot!!!

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Old pic of the Goddess Collective by Perry Julien…just realized this pst doesn’t have much T&A, so here ya go

After hiking back up from Goldstrike Canyon, my sister and were super starving…but this time, instead of shitty deep-fried crap at Callville Bay, we headed to downtown Vegas to this amazing, blighted old shopping center near where I live called the Commercial Center. Back in the day, the Commercial Center was the place to shop for the Who’s Who of the Vegas Nouveau Riche…but nowadays, it’s this post-apocalyptic, bombed-out-looking ginormous half-empty strip mall that’s mostly home to swinger’s clubs, gay bathhouses and Korean karaoke joints. But it also happens to be home to this Thai restaurant that was once rated the #1 Thai restaurant in ALL of America by Gourmet magazine — so every wannabe foodie asshole and his mother goes there, thinking they’re being super clever and edgy by venturing into the “hood” to get “authentic” Thai food.

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pic by C. Jackson

The truth is, though, it really IS super badass food — it’s just that the wait is always at least 30 minutes, so you have to have a plan. Our plan was, we went out in the parking lot and smoked a joint, then walked over to this western-themed gay bar called the Badlands Saloon for a drink while we waited. We got totally baked and buzzed, then headed back just in time to beat the fuck out of an amazing Thai dinner that was about 1,000,000 times better than that shit we ate out at Callville Bay the night before. BOO-YA!!! It was the perfect celebratory meal to end our fabulous, incomparable Southern Nevada roadtrip. Long may it live in my memory!

 

 

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What does the future hold?
pic by C. Jackson

Now I’m back in Vegas, and alas, I don’t know exactly when my next adventure will be. My sister has been unemployed for about a year now, and she had originally given herself ONE YEAR to figure out what she wants to do with her life. Well, that year is about up…so I’m not sure what she’s gonna do. She still has a fat 401(k) and some savings she’s sitting on, but she’s a very responsible person, and it’s not in her character to stay unemployed for long. So, the future is uncertain: will she continue bumming around the Southwest with me? Or will she go back to work at some loathsome corporate gig? OR…..will she figure out a way to make money while traveling around with me on the road????

I’m gunning for option C!

 

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Weed and Wine and Ferrante & Teicher

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photo by Iancentric

Remember how I was bitching about about feeling like I’m stuck on a treadmill set to max speed? Well, guess what — the fucker wasn’t even AT max speed; I found that out when shit really got cranking these past couple of weeks. Come to find out, I didn’t know what “max speed” even meant….apparently, my life goes to eleven!!!

The minute I returned from rambling around Arizona with my sis, it was on. After unpacking, doing laundry and cleaning my house,etc., I got back to the business of hustling for gigs….and holy living Christ on a horse, what an avalanche!! 

 

 

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Go Team!

It all started innocuously enough, with my annual Super Bowl gig as a showgirl at my neighbor’s party — she works for a local Italian restaurant (casadiamore.com), and they throw this HUGE party every year at one of the hotels. It’s a fun and easy gig — just walk around and schmooze with the patrons, taking photos and whatnot, then leave at the end of halftime, by which time everyone is so wasted they don’t even notice if I’m there or not.

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Seahawks FTW!

But this year, I had an idea — I had just returned from 10 days camping in the Arizona desert, so my armpits were pretty gnarly. I happened to have a can of green hairspray around the house, so before I left for the gig, I sprayed my armpit hair green and posted a “Go, Seahawks!” photo on Instagram (the Seahawks’ colors are green and blue). Of course, I shaved them before actually leaving for the party (because, you know…society)….but what a shame; it would have been super funny if I’d had one armpit green and the other red, so that depending on the allegiance of the patron I was posing with, I could raise that arm into the air: “Gooooo New England!!”

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Reading backstage

Speaking of showgirls, if you had told me 10 years ago that I would one day find work as a showgirl in Vegas, I would have laughed my ass off. Me? A showgirl?!? I’m short, flat-chested and I can’t dance to save my life!!!! But astonishingly, I did two other turns as a showgirl recently. First, a magician friend who has an events production company hired me to work as a sort of ring girl at the World Finals of Indoor Archery!

This is one of the things I love about Vegas — all the weird little niche events going on here, all the time. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as indoor archery, let alone a fiercely competitive world final…but here were all these people from all over the world, who had spent tons of time and money getting to this level, duking it out for the title (and the cash prize). It was intense!!

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Yikes!

All we really had to do was walk around schmoozing and then going out with a sign at the start of each round — like at a boxing match, only here I was walking a gauntlet of international archers armed to the teeth with pointy fiberglass arrows. YIKES!

To make matters worse, I’ve been having a tough time sleeping lately, so one night I ate a half a pot cookie to help conk me out….and as much as I love edibles for their sleep-enhancing qualities, the devil with them is not knowing when they’ll wear off. So one of the days I worked, I was still in a sort of fog, strutting around in my feathers and sequins and whatnot like I was floating on a cloud. A cloud made of pointy sharp fiberglass. Talk about surreal!

 

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3D!!

Meanwhile, everyone was baked at another gig I did — the CHAMPS tradeshow (a/k/a the stoner expo). CHAMPS is a show for anyone in the smokeshop industry — pipe makers, glass blowers, fake-pee-kit-manufacturers and odor-eliminating candlemakers…you know what I’m talking about. I was working for a repeat client, this company called SunshineJoy that makes trippy 3-D psychedelic tapestries. Last time I worked for them, I ended up buying half their inventory and taking it to Burning Man, where it was a huge hit…they really are bad-ass tapestries. All I really had to do was stand around all day exhorting people to come into the booth and put on a pair of 3D glasses, so it was pretty chill….but let me tell you, I’m pretty sure I was the only sober person there!!

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Mary Jane

Being surrounded by all those stoners was actually depressing, in a way — the vendors had their shit together (for the most part), but so many of the attendees were baked out of their gourds that it was pretty sad. I’m a huge fan of smoking weed myself, but I only do it as a reward at the end of a hard day’s work (Burning Man aside, LOL)…I can’t imagine walking around all day trying to function in that state. Also, I noted that most stoner models are pretty tore up — like any trade show, the exhibitors at CHAMPS hire booth babes to help promoted their products, and some of the girls I saw walking around were busted as fuck!!! Cellulite-y asses, shitty tattoos, fucked-up makeup…..ugh!!!! Meanwhile, no one would hire me in my Mary Jane showgirl outfit. Whatever!!!

 

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Pyptek FTW!!!

But on the whole it was a fun show, and I ran into many of my industry pals like my buddy Jeffrey Peterson the 420 comic, who was down from Denver and gave me a copy of his new stoner comic book…and my friends at Pyptek, who hooked me up with a super-sweet new pink Prometheus piece. Let me tell you, I hit that fuckin’ piece with a vengeance when that show was over. Like I said, a reward for a hard day’s work well done icon smile Weed and Wine and Ferrante & Teicher

Aside from hum-drum gigs as a showgirl and a stoner booth babe, I also spent one fabulous day out in the wonderful desert sunshine doing one of my all-day photo excursions (see my Modeling tab for more info). This time, I was hired by a Canadian photographer who ended up bringing another model and several other photographers, all from Calgary, along for the day. It was really fun! We all piled into their rented minivan and we took off for three of my favorite locations, shooting for an hour or two at each.  Everyone got great shots, and a great time was had by all.

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Photo by Iancentric

Incidentally, a photographer recently told me that I have a “very good reputation up in Calgary.” I’m not sure how that happened, but I do know that I’ve been getting quite a few bookings from Candians lately. Someday I hope to be able to travel up to Canada myself for some shoots…but I have this pesky DUI on my record, so you fuckers won’t let me into your country :-/ So in the meanwhile, you’ll just have to come down here to shoot icon smile Weed and Wine and Ferrante & Teicher

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poster for my upcoming movie directed by Gary Ayers a/k/a Dr. Kildare!

Anyway, after all that I was getting pretty worn out. I had already pretty much made my nut for the month, so I planned to just take a few days off and spend some time around the house, working on the various craft projects I always have brewing: a fabulous mermaid-queen headdress, the caftan I bought in Bisbee that needs embellishing, the cinderblock wall in my backyard that needs muraling/mosaic-ing. As I was putting on my showgirl makeup one day, I had discovered this amazing Pandora station based around 60s piano kings Ferrante & Teicher — all swanky piano music and instrumental 101-Strings-type Valium-drenched fabulousness of the highest order. So I wanted nothing more than to be able to lounge around the house all day in my caftan, boozing and crafting with this fabulous soundtrack playing in the background. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

I’ve always had a hard time saying NO, especially when it comes to paid gigs — you never know when work is gonna dry up, ya know, so I feel like I have to accept every booking that comes down the pike — as long as it meets my minimum hourly pay rate. So, even though I was really looking forward to a few days off, I found myself unable to say no when a girlfriend from Arizona called with an offer to work a loathsome 3-day corporate gig at a hotel out in the suburbs.

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ugh

The gig sounded super easy, so I said yes…and so the next three days of my life were swallowed up by a hideous royal-blue polyester long-sleeved polo shirt bearing the logo of a certain consumer electronics giant, which was having its national sales conference at the J.W. Mariott in Summerlin. They had hired a dozen or so staff to assist with directions and event facilitation and whatnot, and it was really a very easy gig…but exhausting nonetheless, as I was on my feet all day, every day. Also, the girl who got me the gig asked me if she could stay at my place for the duration of the event — since she lives in Arizona, she couldn’t really drive back and forth every day. Of course I said yes, and honestly I didn’t mind…but it was still tough having to be “on” even when work was over, and I just wanted to go home and get baked in solitude.

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d’oh!!

To make matters even worse, the weather that week happened to be amazingly gorgeous – in the upper 70s, sunny, fabulous. But I had to spend all day, every day cooped up in that hideous polyester shirt in the bowels of the J.W. Mariott. Oh, well. At least it was only for three days — the miserably henpecked, harried-looking salespeople at the event were in it for life. SHUDDER!!!!!!!

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Mmmm!!!

After the sales conference ended, I still had a few days off to enjoy — but guess what happened?? Yep, someone else called with a job offer — this time, just a couple days’ worth of quickie little in-store liquor sampling events for one of my all-time favorite liqueurs. Hang out in a liquor store for 3 hours and pour free samples of delicious booze? How could I say no to that?!?!? So again, on my days “off” I found myself suiting up in a fluorescent branded crop-top, pouring shots of RumChata and this amazing new liqueur called TippyCow, which is a delicious rum-based cream with flavors like orange creamsicle and shamrock mint. YUM!!! At one of the stores I worked at, there was another chick pouring samples of this horrifying new drink called Viniq that is made of grape vodka and moscato…and has shimmery flakes in it, so when you shake the bottle it starts sparkling like a hideous sparkly purple lava lamp. OMG…..how gross is that?!?!?!? But astonishingly, she sold a shit ton of it…just going to show, you can never trust peoples’ taste.

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Vegas Bimbo
pic by Shutterbug-Studio

So anyway, by this time I was getting really stressed out from all the work and commitments — I mean to tell you, I have been going balls out the past 12 days!! Aside from the above-mentioned gigs, I also found time to record an interview with these cool people who are making a sort of Vegas-based “This American Life”-type podcast….plus another day I did a Vegas Bimbo shoot with my friend Randy, and then another day I did a shoot as a mermaid out on one of the dry lake beds. I didn’t even get paid for the mermaid shoot — I did it “TFT,” as in…”Trade For Tail,” as the photographer bought me this amazing mermaid tail in exchange for shooting in it, LOL! So, once I FINALLY get around to finishing my amazing mermaid headdress, I’ll have a bad-ass new costume to add to my arsenal icon smile Weed and Wine and Ferrante & Teicher

See, I’m not all about making a buck — aside from the TFT shoot, I also did a pro bono gig as a showgirl for my magician friend — the guy who had hired me for the world finals of indoor archery event. I felt I owed him a favor after that well-paid assignment, so when he asked if I could come hang around his booth at this women’s expo at Bally’s one night in my showgirl costume, of course I said yes.

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Suck ‘er in and stick ‘em out!

It ended up being totally fun — free booze was flowing, the Cointreau babes were handing out free shots as well, and there were all kind of local kooks and nut-jobs hanging out schmoozing. My partner at the magician’s booth was this amazing miniature Elvis impersonator — a lecherous, swarthy Greek Little Person who is married to a mini Marilyn Monroe impersonator. How fabulous is that?!?!?  The only bad part of the gig was, I had come directly from the corporate sales conference thing I’d been working at the J.W. Mariott, which had the most amazing, abundant catered breakfasts, lunches and snacks…so I was bloated like a zeppelin from all the French toast, sausage, scrambled eggs, tortellini, prosciutto slices, mini-cheesecakes and Rice Krispie Treats I had been snarfing down all day (and indeed for the past three days of the entire event). Thank dog I do all those ab exercises at the gym, so I was able to suck ‘er in with a modicum of success, and somehow pass myself off as a showgirl…not a blimp.

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I try

Anyhoo, as mentioned this 12-day marathon of merriment, money, free food & booze was fun, but the constant whirlwind activity left me totally stressed out, and unable to sleep. No matter how much weed I smoked, wine I drank or Ferrante & Teicher I listened to, nothing could calm my racing thoughts down at night, and I found myself lying in bed, toes twitching and tapping as I thought of all the millions of things I had to to the next day, and tried to figure out a way to squeeze them all in while still making time for the gym and my daily hygienic ablutions.

So finally, sadly, I admitted to myself that I simply cannot say YES to everything anymore. Saying YES has been my policy ever since 2010, when a fortune cookie at TAO told me “Those Who Say Yes Have More Fun…” but I should have known not to take the advice of a doucher-ass place like TAO, anyway! Ever since adopting that policy, I’ve had a TON of fun and amazing adventures…but I’ve also become an insomniac basketcase!!!!

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mermaid

Now, I certainly don’t plan to stop having adventures — that goes without saying! But my new policy is to only say YES to exceptionally amazing things. And when it comes to work, I plan to only accept bookings of a certain total pay rate. I’m just one frail human body….I can’t be everything to everyone, everywhere, at all times. Even though I really wish I could!

And speaking of exceptionally amazing adventures…in T-minus 48 hours I’ll be off on another one: it is finally time for my long-anticipated road trip around the state of Nevada, in which I plan to definitively answer the age-old question: “Is there anything between Vegas and Reno?” I’ve driven up and down U.S. 95 many times, but the time has finally come to stray from the beaten path and get all up in the barren wastelands of central and northern NV. No secret government bunker, no Hills-Have-Eyes meth lab, no dusty, sun-baked brothel will escape my scrutiny…..WATCH OUT YOU INBRED FREAKS, WONDERHUSSY IS ON THE WAY!!!

But in the meantime, I’m going to lounge around the house in my caftan listening to Ferrante & Teicher…and relax!!!!

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Wanderhussy: Arizona Edition!

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that’s what’s up

Have you ever wondered what my life is really like? Well, I’ll tell you: there is so much shit going on all around me, all the time, that it’s like being trapped on a broken treadmill that’s stuck on the fastest speed, and it’s all I can do to keep up with the breakneck pace. If I let go and zone out for one second, the treadmill will send me flying across the room, to land on the floor in a broken heap…so I have to stay constantly vigilant, checking Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and Tumblr and my blog and my email and my text messages every hour so that I don’t miss out on the next gig…or the next big adventure!

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I don’t “chill”

Between work, hustling for work, cleaning and maintaining my house, cleaning and maintaining my car, cleaning and maintaining my face and body, and squeezing in adventures here and there and then finding time to blog about it…there isn’t much room for error. I never spend an evening sitting around “just chilling” — and why would I want to? If I have free time, I’m going to use it working on one of the bazillion projects I have percolating in back of my mind. I have a caftan than needs embellishing, a cinderblock wall that needs muraling and/or mosaic-ing, and a million ideas for cool photos I need to make props for. But some people don’t understand this, and get offended when I don’t have time to come over to get high and “just chill.” Sorry everyone, but I’m not that kind of gal!!

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What’s this?? Read on…

In fact, there are times when I want to just tell everyone to leave me alone — Wonderhussy is closed for business! And in fact it would probably actually behoove me mentally to set “business” hours for myself — like, I can be Wonderhussy from 10am-8pm, but after that I am closing shop and will not be available. I need ME time, to just chill in bed with my pipe and read…or to look at pictures of baby animals on Twitter, or play Words With Friends. (It’s my way of relaxing…don’t judge!)

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way because there is always something amazing going on that lures me from my retreat. Like for instance, I was supposed to head out of town on a ten-day road trip to Arizona with my sister on the 20th, but it turned out that the porno movie I was in the week before, Titty Heist, was filming Part II on the morning of the 20th…and how could I say no to being in Part II of Titty Heist?!?! So I made my poor sis wait around while I hustled over to the studio and shot until 2pm, playing a bank teller who was taken hostage by a sex-crazed big-titted bank robber whose only demands were a helicopter and a pilot with a big dick who would fuck her up the ass — NOW. Thankfully, her demands were met by a donut-munching, well-hung Latino hostage negotiator who sent a bottle of lube rolling into the bank just in time for me to run out the door, jump in my truck, and get the fuck out of there before anything else exciting could happen to distract me from my long-anticipated road trip. Whew!!!!!!!

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on set

Meanwhile, I hadn’t even had time to pack for this roadtrip, because I was booked solid the prior four days, working on a movie with my friend Dr. Kildare. You might remember Dr. Kildare as the doctor who accompanied my sis and I to Saline Valley Hot Springs back in October — a retired oncologist, desert enthusiast and super nice man, who come to find out has also long harbored a secret desire to be a filmmaker. All this time he was just looking for the right story to turn into a film, and guess what? My fucked-up life inspired him!! After our Saline Valley trip, he went straight home and wrote up a fairly in-depth script for a sort of surrealist art-house type movie loosely based on my wacky adventures, and then hired me to work on it with him for four solid days in January. Awesome!!!

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Whaaaaaat?!

Now, I really didn’t know what to expect — all I knew was he was paying me to be in this movie, but beyond that I had no idea what kind of movie (well, I knew it wasn’t going to be Titty Heist III…but other than that, no idea). But meanwhile, in the days leading up to our shoot, all these awesome props started arriving on my doorstep: a giant multicolored fuzzy bathrobe, a ventriloquist’s dummy, a French-existentialist-style black beret. WTF?!

But when I finally went over to his hotel room for the first day of our shoot, I was completely bowled over by his level of professionalism. Not only had he cultivated an extremely directorly beard since I’d last seen him, but he had also gone out and bought all this amazing professional-grade audio and video gear, and had mapped out fairly precisely what we were going to shoot, and when, and where. I’m here to tell you, this man has an extremely arty vision for this film (working title: Wonderhussy), and it’s not just going to be some kind of two-bit YouTube bullshit hack job. Hell, no — he plans to submit this shit to Sundance, motherfuckers!! I’m not kidding!!!!!

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Still from Wonderhussy: the movie

So for four days, we worked together morning to night, shooting footage all over the Vegas valley and the surrounding desert — from the trap shooting range on the edge of town all the way down to Fremont Street (I’m telling you, this movie is gonna be far out!!). The stuff we shot down on Fremont Street was particularly inspired: the script called for me to ride my beat-up old Burning Man bike downtown, in my showgirl costume, with the ventriloquist dummy (who happens to be an existentialist named Jean-Paul, hence the black beret) strapped to my back, looking for my alcoholic ventriloquist philosophy-school-dropout boyfriend, with whom I’m supposed to go busking.

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While filming, we ran into another ventriloquist busking on Fremont Street!

I thought for sure we’d get hassled by the dumb-ass security guards down on Fremont Street, since you can’t even fart without getting a permit down there first….but Dr. Kildare is sly as fuck, and was able to sneak footage using a Go Pro and a second camera on a discreet knee-level handheld mount, so none of those assholes were the wiser, and we got all the shots we needed without any problems at all. Better yet, I even made about $10 posing for photos with tourists just while standing around between takes — even though it was a Monday night, and right after a holiday weekend, and I had on a pretty amateurish costume with a ventriloquist dummy strapped to my back…it didn’t seem to matter to anyone! People down there just don’t give a fuck!!!

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Shooting another scene at the trap shooting range outside town

It was kind of inconvenient, though — we were trying to discreetly shoot a scene, but people kept coming up to me and asking for photos, ruining take after take. Finally the scene cleared out and we were just getting ready to roll…when out of nowhere an entire busload of Korean tourists came along, and every single one of them wanted a photo!! It was straight surrealism of the highest order. 

But even better was this drunken white trash couple who came stumbling along. I posed for a photo with the guy, and they gave me a few bucks…but then they came stumbling back a moment later with another request: “Hey, can we take some sexy pics for our homeys doing life in federal prison?” Who am I to say no to that?! Again, I don’t think they even noticed the fact that I had an existentialist-beret-wearing ventriloquist dummy strapped to my back…they just snapped away as I stuck my ass out and winked over my shoulder, Betty Grable-style. For the Boys!!! And I must say…I am oddly touched by the notion that someday soon, in some federal prison somewhere in America, a lifer may be jerking off to a photo of me in my showgirl costume, with an existentialist ventriloquist dummy strapped to my back. Talk about surreal!!

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Dr. Kildare takes his medicine

Anyway, we celebrated wrapping the first part of filming (he’s coming back in March to shoot part 2) with a meal at the Heart Attack Grill…where the nurse-waitresses paddle you if you don’t finish your meal. Poor Dr. Kildare didn’t eat his whole chili dog, so guess who got a severe spanking?!?! It was comedy gold!!! Meanwhile, I sat back and sipped on my Captain Morgan and Coke, which they serve to you in a prescription bottle full of rum, alongside a glass-bottled Mexican Coke made with real sugar. It’s that kind of place!

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A Captain & Coke, Heart Attack Grill-style

So anyway, look for this amazing masterpiece of a movie coming soon — I’m telling you, it’s gonna be great! Dr. Kildare said he was inspired to write this movie about me because he has always been a big reader and fan of literary writers (!), and when he stumbled upon this blog he was taken not only with the quality of my writing, but with the picaresque nature of my story. I had to look up the term “picaresque,” and I have to say — he really hit the fuckin’ nail on the head!! If my life ain’t picaresque, I don’t know what is. Good looking out, Dr. Kildare!! Check out this scene from the movie where I explain what “picaresque” means.

So, aaaanyway….I spent four days shooting the movie, and I kept meaning to go home afterward one night and start packing for my roadtrip, but shit kept coming up — the treadmill never stops!!  One night, my girlfriends from Arkansas were all in town for the gun show, so I had to go meet up with them for dinner — and they were all in a tizzy because one of them had gotten arrested that morning at the Little Rock airport for forgetting that she had her pistol in her handbag when she went thru the security checkpoint. D’oh!!!! They booked her into jail, but brought her back to the airport just in time for her to catch the next flight to Vegas, so everything worked out OK, and we were able to enjoy a fabulous meal at Casa di Amore, a cool old-timey Italian restaurant off-Strip on the east side.

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Wandering the desert after a rain, enjoying the smell

Then another night, these producers were in town from L.A., scouting around Vegas looking for the next big reality show subject. Several people they talked to referred them to me, so I went downtown and met them for a quick drink to see what was up. Boy, were they amazing — kinda like the Pet Shop Boys! The main guy was super-enthusiastic and super-effusive, in a tweedy blazer and a dramatically draped scarf, and his cadaverous sidekick hung around in the background in a pair of David Lynch-type tortoiseshell sunglasses and a sort of Eraserhead hairstyle. WOW!!! They seemed to dig me and my shtick, but when they asked me what I do, I had no real answer: “Uhhhh…..I just kinda roll around, having adventures,” I answered lamely. I don’t think that squares very well with reality TV — they want a barbershop or a ghost-hunting service or a hooker who rescues abused animals, or something middle America can get behind…ya know?? A picaresque drifter — even a nude piacaresque drifter — is a little hard for most people to identify with. 

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In a bookstore

Anyway, they seemed to enjoy meeting me, and left me with the exhortation to start shooting more YouTube videos — so from now on, my 2015 resolution is to upload more videos to my YouTube channel. Alas, I have already failed miserably in this endeavor, as I intended to film all kinds of fun stuff on my Arizona roadtrip…but didn’t end up shooting a damn thing :/ For some reason, it’s a lot easier for me to write about my experiences, and to take still photos. But making videos or vlogs is something I really do want to get into, so for February I swear I will make it my mission to shoot more videos. I swear!!!

So anyhoo, about this roadtrip. My sis and I had planned to take ten or eleven days and just cruise around the entire state of Arizona, starting with the fabulous Quartzsite swap meet and then heading south from there in search of warmer climes. But like I said, I hadn’t had any time to pack or get ready…so after wrapping Titty Heist II, I ran home, threw a few shirts and a couple caftans in a bag, grabbed my sleeping bag and tent, a few extra blankets and some firewood, and then jumped in her car and headed out around 4pm. A late start for a roadtrip, but whatever…I do what I can!

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T-shirts for sale at a truck stop off I-40

Since we’re both on a shoestring budget, our mission on this trip was to be cheap as fuck and camp out for free as often as possible — my sis sleeping in the back of her 4 Runner, with me in my little $20 WalMart boy scout tent beside her. Fortunately, there is a ton of BLM (Bureau of Land Management, a/k/a Federal Gov’t-owned public-use land) in Arizona, so finding free campsites was pretty easy — you’re allowed to camp out on BLM land for FREE for up to 14 days, and even longer in some places! I used this awesome website called Freecampsites.net to find all our overnight spots, and it worked out amazingly well.

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At Redneck’s BBQ in Kingman, AZ

The first night, we rolled into Kingman, AZ around dark and stopped for dinner at this shitty little BBQ joint. Since gas is so cheap these days, the main expense of our trip was meals — we could have been super-cheap and subsisted on camp-stove ramen, but I feel like half the fun of exploring new places is checking out little hole-in-the-wall diners and shit. So we budgeted about $30/day for food, and hit up one restaurant per day based on whatever good Yelp reviews we could find that only had a one-dollar-sign rating. We had a lot of Mexican food, let me tell you!!!

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Camping at Craggy Wash

Anyway, the first night we camped in the desert north of Lake Havasu, at a BLM site called Craggy Wash. It was awesome!!! Because the winters are so mild in southern AZ, thousands and thousands of Canadian and northern U.S. retirees (a/k/a snowbirds) come down every year and camp out in the desert all season long, most of them in ginormous, swanky RVs…but a good number of them also in crazy bugged-out rigs that appear to be held together by little more than Social Security and Fixodent. Particularly in Quartzsite, the desert is so choked with RVs that it looks like a geriatric Burning Man — this is a town whose population swells from just over 3,000 to over a MILLION in January/February. It’s FAR OUT!!!

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The Olde English shtick is thick at Lake Havasu

Before rolling on to fabulous Quartzsite, we began our Great American Looky-Lou Extravaganza in Lake Havasu City, a dusty little desert burg on the shores of a giant blue lake that is inexplicably spanned by a chunk of the original London Bridge, imported by some crafty real-estate developer in the hopes of luring tourists and retirees to this quiet Mormon town. The Olde English shtick is pretty thick down there — it’s surreal! I guess Havasu is also a real Spring Break paradise, as there are a ton of waterfront bars and nightclubs, but at the time of our visit it was pretty quiet. We stopped in for a pleasant visit at the home studio of a photographer I had shot with once back around 2009, and then headed south to find our next BLM campsite.

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Geriatric Disneyland

Now, I had been to Quartzsite once, back in 2010, on the advice of a crusty old camp host up on Mt. Charleston…and I had such an amazing time back then that I’d been wanting to return ever since! Basically, the whole town becomes one giant swap meet during the winter months, with tents and tables and sheds erected in every parking lot, full of dusty, musty, fusty weird old crap for sale — for cheap! If you’re into gems, they also have a big gem and jewelry show…but I was mostly there to look at random crap — that’s my bag!

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Camping on Plomosa Rd.

Moreover, the town is basically surrounded by acres of BLM land, which is the main reason all these shoestring gypsies hang out here selling their wares all winter. My sis and I set up camp out off Plomosa Rd., on the banks of a beautiful little wash, surrounded by the comforting hum of RV generators, and then headed to town to see what was up.

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Quartzsite….ever the same

Nothing had changed in Quartzsite since my last visit — it was still basically Disneyland for shoestring gypsies! My recommendation is to cruise into town, get yourself a bottle of Captain Morgan at the Roadrunner Market and a fountain soda at the gas station, add lime and mix well, and then wander the acres and acres of tablesful of crap, enjoying a gentle buzz and the gentle winter desert sunshine. It’s amazing — you never know what you’ll find!

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Tom Clancy?!

My only complaint this year was that the weather was too cold and windy to rock my fabulous psychedelic caftan, so I had to cobble together a new look: ’80s Midwestern trucker chic. This look involves jeans, plaid shirts, boots, aviators and of course, a trucker cap…on which I splurged $10 for a custom-embroidered Wonder Hussy version of at one of the swap meet booths. To really complete the look, I needed a puffy blue nylon vest…but no matter how many thrift shops I scoured up and down the entire state of Arizona, this magical item eluded me. Damn!! Without it, I ended up just looking like Tom Clancy. Oh well!

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Awwww! I love Paul Winer so much!!

Besides the swap meet, the other really cool thing in Quartzsite is this amazing used bookstore called Reader’s Oasis. It’s chock-full of fabulous dusty old paperbacks, meticulously organized and categorized by the owner, a wonderful retired nudist named Paul Winer who used to tour the country as a nude boogie-woogie pianist, but now lives out his days selling books in the warm desert sun, in the nude, posing for photos with nosy tourists icon smile Wanderhussy: Arizona Edition! His only concession to winter’s chill was a sweater and socks, and his only concession to modesty was a crocheted cock-sock. That’s my kind of guy!!

Meanwhile, still performs on occasion, and in fact one night we went and caught his show at the Senior Center and he was amazing — even though he wore

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Miserable old crowd watching Paul Winer

a brown corduroy suit for the occasion. Back in the day when he was touring the country, he performed under the name Sweet Pie, and I can’t think of a better name for him — he has this gentle, sweet quality to him that is just wonderful. The other old farts in the room seemed to tolerate him OK — he did pack the house, but no one in the audience looked too excited about it. Old folk are weird that way — in my experience they came across as pretty grumpy a lot of the time, as though my sis and I were invading their turf or something :/

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McDonald’s in Quartzsite

Aside from that, Quartzsite doesn’t have a whole lot to offer, especially food-wise. One night we had burgers at the Quartzsite Yacht Club, an ironically-named nautically-themed but overall-meh little joint on the main drag, and then another night we had some sub-par Mexican food across town. The only really good meal we had was, astonishingly, at this pizza joint called Silly Al’s — I don’t even like pizza, but it was really good!

Moreover, their wine was cheap, so one night we met up with this girlfriend of mine who happened to be in town working one of the swap meet booths, and partied with a bunch of her swap meet colleagues. Oh my god, what a crazy crew of fucked-up freaks THAT was!

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Partying at Silly Al’s

These were all carny-type hucksters from the big tent on the Tyson Wells lot — the Main Event, as they call it, which unlike the rest of the swap meet is made up of booth after booth of brand-new, As-Seen-On-TV, made-in-China crap being hawked by a brigade of traveling three-card-Monte-eqsue shysters who travel from fairground to fairground, following the swap meet circuit across the USA. But while the merchandise they sell over there might be boring, the people selling it are fascinating — and really fun to party with! There was this amazing leathery, bosomy, tatted blonde biker lady who sold magnetic healing bracelets (“Put this on your wrist, honey. Now, watch what happens when I try to press your arm down!”), a baby-faced, candle-shilling Marine-corps stud who was the self-proclaimed “King of Scentsy;” and then this creepy mulleted Englishman named François who entertained us all with sleight-of-hand card tricks as we boozed and danced the night away. It was like partying with the Muppets, if they were alcoholic carnies. GOOD TIMES!!!!!!!!

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Lipstick lesbian truckers!

Anyway, after three days in Quartzsite it was time to get the fuck out of there and see the rest of the state. On our way out, we stopped at the local Pilot truck stop to charge our phones and primp, as had become our custom — we would cruise to the truck stop in the morning, get some delicious Pilot house blend coffee and then hang out in the dining area by the showers, putting on our makeup while our phones charged up. Shockingly, they charge $12 for a shower at Pilot (!!) so we never did splurge on that (although we did consider sharing one)…but that didn’t mean we had to be total slobs, and many’s the morning we sat there tweezing our eyebrows under the bemused gaze of a trucker or two: “What?? You’ve never seen someone curl their eyelashes at a truck stop before?!” All this truck-stop primping gave us the idea for this awesome B-movie, in fact: two lipstick lesbian truckers on the lam from the law! Maybe I’ll see if Dr. Kildare wants to make that movie next, LOL!!!

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the beautiful Sonoran Desert at sunrise

From Quartzsite, we headed on south down to Yuma, where I scored a couple more plaid shirts for my trucker look for 50 cents apiece, and then on to the U.S.-Mexico border down near the town of Why, Arizona, where there was a BLM camping area just outside Organ Pipe National Monument. It was a beautiful desert — the Sonoran Desert is totally different from my beloved Mojave, with all kinds of wacky cacti and animal life that you just don’t see up here, like saguaros (the iconic cactus you see in cartoons) and javelinas (little wild pigs).

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Yikes!!

The only buzzkill was all the travel warning signs about illegal smuggling in the area — you really have to keep your wits about you, down there. Even in Organ Pipe National Monument, they warn you to stay away from any individuals you encounter carrying black water bottles — apparently, drug smugglers have taken to painting their life-sustaining water bottles black, to avoid being detected when a light reflects off it as they’re sneaking across the border. FAR OUT! This one poor park ranger down there was even murdered about ten years ago, when he challenged a group of them. It’s no joke!

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In a hater-ass coffee shop in Ajo, AZ

Anyway, we survived the javelinas and smugglers and whatnot and headed on our way the next morning, stopping for coffee/phone charging/primping at a cool-looking little coffee shop in the town of Ajo. The place looked cool — a freaky mural of some murderous rabbits on the wall, a framed painting of Willie Nelson inside — but I’m here to tell you, the atmosphere was frosty as fuck! The lady running the joint was extremely unfriendly, and the other old folk hanging out inside weren’t too chummy, either…this despite the fact that my sis and I were unfailingly polite. Whatever! We had two cups of their shitty house coffee and got the fuck out, headed for Tucson, where we had arranged to meet up with Dr. Kildare, who was on his own little roadtrip on his was back to Atlanta.

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Clean jeans in Tucson!

Alas, the weather turned shitty so Dr. Kildare bailed out, and my sis and I got a room in town so we could finally take a shower, then hit up a laundromat to wash our funky jeans and all the thrift-store plaid shirts we’d been accumulating. We checked out the little hipster area in downtown Tucson, and it was actually really cool — lots of cool art everywhere, and this amazing mosaic mural that gave me the idea to paint the cinderblock wall in my barren back yard here in Vegas. We had a drink at the amazing old Congress Hotel, and then had a FABULOUS lunch at this divey sandwich shop called Bison Witch…and then we headed north of town, where a friend of mine had offered to let us camp on a swath of desert he owns.

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Soggy camping outside Tucson

My friend’s property is waaaay out in the boonies, so the directions to get there were a little sketch: “Look for the anamorphic rock art; if you see my shipping container, you’ve gone too far.” But my sister’s 4Runner made it like a champ, and we set up camp and enjoyed some delicious peppermint-schnapps-laced hot cocoa by the campfire before the fucking rain started in, and we retreated to our sleeping quarters. Thanks to a spare rainfly my sis had brought along, I stayed cozy and dry all night…but in the morning, we had to hang out reading in bed awhile before the rain cleared and we could get out and pack up camp. But once it cleared, it was B E A U T I F U L !

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With a wacky busker in Tombstone

From Tucson, we cruised down south to the classic old-tyme tourist trap of Tombstone…which was actually amazing! I’m a sucker for tourist shtick anyway, so we wandered around the old town area listening to the 2pm gunfight at the O.K. Corral  — they charge $10 to go inside the Corral to watch it, so we just listened. Some dude in a cowboy costume tried to talk us into buying tickets, but I was honest with him: “We can’t afford it!” I find that honesty is the best way to deal with salespeople — I mean, technically I had the money to watch it, but then I wouldn’t have been able to buy a drink and a burger at Bignose Kate’s Saloon, ya know?! I have my priorities!

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With a fake cowboy in Tombstone

Bignose Kate’s was OK — as expected, thick with old-West shtick, waitresses in saloon-gal getups and some old fart singing lite country covers onstage — so we ate up, paid up and then headed on down to our next free campsite, down in this super-remote flat desert field outside Bisbee. There isn’t much BLM land in that part of the state, but freecampsites.net showed this place called Starshine Desert, which is technically private property, but the owners let people camp there for free, as long as they clean up after themselves and bury their poo and whatnot.

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The gates to Starshine Desert

Starshine Desert is kinda tricky to find, but once you do it’s a pretty legit place! There were a few other campers parked nearby, but I think they were all abandoned — we didn’t see anyone else the whole time we were there, and only heard a pack of dogs or coyotes of something yelping all night. Overall a great place to stop, and I wholeheartedly recommend it — and thank the owners for their hospitality!!

After that we headed into Bisbee to check

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Bisbee!!

out the scene — and OMG, what a scene!!!! That town is my new favorite place, ever! It’s basically a little old copper mining town that was taken over by hippies and artists, built up on a hillside made of mine-fill, with crazy crookedy little streets full of funky boutiques and amazing bars and restaurants. We had the BEST meal of our trip there, at a place called Whyld Ass Cafe, that features all kinds of delicious vegan food as well as drinking water enhanced with chlorophyll.

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Street bum kids in Bisbee

Because it’s built on hillsides, there are also all kinds of crazy winding staircases leading up everywhere, so we got quite a workout walking around exploring everything. Plus, many of the walls are decorated with amazing graffiti and murals (adding to my cinderblock wall inspiration), so it’s a really neat place to explore. I bought this amazing pink caftan in one of the secondhand shops there, and all it needs is a bunch of crazy beads or appliques to something to make it really amazing — I need to gussy it the fuck up in time for it to be my 2015 Summer Caftan!!

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A lifelong dream, fulfilled

Anyhoo, from Bisbee we headed back up north, to camp at the Hot Well Dunes outside Bowie. My hot springs guidebook showed them to be a great camp spot, and we were really looking forward to a nice hot soak under the desert stars that night. On the way, we stopped at the über-tourist-attraction of ALL über-tourist-attractions — The Thing?, just off I-10 near Willcox, AZ. My friend whose land we’d camped on had given me a bumper sticker from The Thing? back around 2002 or so, and ever since then I’ve been DYING of curiosity to go there myself and find out just what exactly The Thing? really is!! It’s one of those “curiosities” that you pay $1 to look at…and all I’ll say about it is, it’s totally worth the $1 to get it. DO IT!!!

After basking in the majesty of The Thing?, we cruised up to the Hot Well Dunes and and set up camp for the night. It’s on BLM land, but they charge $3/night to camp out there….so not technically free, but close. Basically, it’s a huge swatch of gently rolling sand dunes dotted with creosote and desert scrub, criss-crossed with dirtbike trails from all the rednecks who hang out there racing around on their gas-powered toys. Right in the middle there are two concrete soaking pools and a couple of bathrooms — a pretty nice spot for $3!

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Sunset soak at the Hot Well Dunes

My only quibble with the Hot Well Dunes is, the pump that fills the pools from the source is solar-powered….so you can only soak while the sun is up, and then once it sets the pools drain out until morning. BOGUS!!!!! I’m sure they did that on purpose, to discourage nighttime revelry and hijinks in the pools….but come on, how lame is THAT? Also, the water at the source is supposedly 106 degrees…but by the time it fills the pools, it only feels like 102 or so…so it’s not really optimal for winter soaking. THIRDLY, nudity is not allowed when soaking…so, overall, I can only give the Hot Well Dunes a 3/5 on the Wonderhusy Hot Spring Ratings Scale.

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Campsite at the Hot Well Dunes

Still, we got there in time to enjoy a sunset cocktail in one of the soaking pools, and it was pretty cool. The desert down there is beautiful – not the Sonoran anymore, so no saguaros or anything, just gently rolling dunes with beautiful mountains in the distance.

The only bummer was having to deal with our wet swimsuits once we got out — it

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The soaking area at the Hot Well Dunes

was too cold to even really dry them out anywhere! There was hardly anyone else camping at the time of our visit, so in the morning, after breaking camp and packing the car, we headed back for a morning soak, once the sun was up enough to fill the pools again — this time in the nude. But, wouldn’t ya know it…along came a retired couple, and they were so abashed by our nudity that the husband wouldn’t even soak in the same pool as us, but went to sit in a half-full lukewarm puddle in the other pool, which wasn’t even full yet! His wife hung out with us, but you could tell our nakedness made her nervous, so we finally just got the fuck out of there. I don’t like to make other people uncomfortable, but I mean…really?!?! It’s been my experience at hot springs that the custom is, whoever is there first sets the clothing policy — and I’ve never had a weird experience like that, in all my soaking days. Oh, well.

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Wigwams on old Route 66!

After that, we cruised into the little redneck town of Safford to primp and whatnot at a Starbucks, before planning our next move. The weather had turned shitty again, with rain forecasted basically everywhere in the fuckin’ state…so our options were limited. My new friend Johnny Rockett, whom I met on the set of Titty Heist, had offered to let us camp on some undeveloped land he owns near Joseph City…but because of the miserable rain, we bailed on that idea and just got a room in Flagstaff for the night, instead. It was only $36 (!!), so what the fuck.

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Standin’ on the corner

On the way there, we made the obligatory pit stop in dogforsaken, economically blighted Winslow, AZ — notable solely for its inclusion in the lyrics of the Eagles’ “Take it Easy” (“I’m standin’ on the corner in Winslow, AZ/ such a fine sight to see/ it’s a girl, my Lord, in a flatbed Ford/ slowin’ down to take a look at me”). The poor little town has tried to capitalize on that fact, building a monument to the song with a bronze statue of Glenn Frey or whoever standin’ on the corner, with a flatbed Ford parked nearby for photo ops….but overall it’s just overwhelmingly sad. We had planned to have a bite at the schlocky little Route 66 burger joint across the street, which is said to play Eagles music 24/7…but the damn place was closed!!! At 4pm on a Friday!!!! COME ON, WINSLOW — you have one thing going for you, and you fuck that up?????? Sad!

Anyhoo, by the time we rolled into Flagstaff it was pouring rain, so we just hit one last thrift store looking for a navy blue puffy vest, gave up, and met up with another photographer friend at his badass little studio in downtown Flagstaff, to discuss possibly setting up a daylong photography workshop sometime in the near future. Apparently, all the local models in Flag are totally square and won’t pose nude…so the plan is for me to come down from Vegas, shoot for the day, and split the proceeds with him. If you’re local to the area, or just plan on being in Flagstaff anytime soon, and want to shoot in his studio for an hour or two…hit me up! It should be a fun day icon smile Wanderhussy: Arizona Edition!

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Holy fuck!!!

The next morning it was still pissing rain, so we hung around the lobby of the Travelodge taking advantage of their free breakfast as long as possible. As far as free breakfasts go it was pretty piss-poor — just toast and English muffins and Nescafe, etc. — but they DID have an absolutely AMAZING, futuristic automatic pancake-making machine, the likes of which I have never seen in my life!!! It was astonishing — like something from the Jetsons; you simply pressed the “OK” button, and the machine spit out two perfectly formed little pancakes. YUM!!!!! I could not stop pushing that fuckin’ button…and consequently I ate way too many pancakes :/ I have seen the future, people….and it is delicious!

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Soggy Sedona

Our original itinerary had called for us to drive down to Sedona that day, to hike around and soak up energy from the various vortices said to pepper the area. In Sedona, a/k/a FlakeLand USA, a vortex is defined as a swirling center of subtle energy coming out from the surface of the earth, which if you hang around long enough infuses you with uplifting positive energy…or some such alleged New Age bunkum. A bunch of them  supposedly naturally occur in the Sedona area, which is why it’s known as a spiritual Disneyland (per lovesedona.com, LOL). I had my severe doubts, but wanted to check one out anyway, just to see what was up.

But it was pissing rain so hard, it made it difficult to feel anything other than soggy irritation!! I suppose it would have been one thing if it had been a sunny day, and I had

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Soggy and pissed off

been able to wear one of my hippie-dippie caftans, and swan about soaking up sunshine and positive vibes. But as it was, my sis and I slogged around the Airport Mesa vortex in the mud…and didn’t feel a damn thing except pissed off. Oh, well — the area is physically beautiful, full of breathtaking redstone cliffs and mesas and whatnot, so we definitely plan to come back later this spring or summer, when we can get baked or otherwise drunk and better commune with the spiritual energy of the Earth. You how it is — you have to be in the right frame of mind for that kind of shit. Which is baked out of your gourd on weed and/or mushrooms!!!!!

 

 

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Tree supposedly twisted by a vortex in Sedona

After tromping around Sedona in a fruitless quest for enlightenment, we headed on down the highway to Jerome, this super-cool funky old mining town that’s like Bisbee’s little cousin — only haunted, too! I’d been to Jerome before, on a biker roadtrip with my friend Muscles Manischewitz, and I was totally stoked to show my sis around all its funky little shops and boutiques….but, alas, it was still pissing rain, and kinda ruined the vibe. We had a bite to eat at this converted old hospital up the hill called The Asylum, and then got the fuck out of Arizona, headed back home a day early icon sad Wanderhussy: Arizona Edition! Nothing is fun in the rain…except Woodstock. Booooooo!!!

So, anyway, that was our awesome Arizona roadtrip. Because of all the free camping and cheap gas, I only spent about $400 for a 10-day trip — so guess what?! We plan to do it all again next month (February), only this time, we’re taking on Nevada! There’s plenty of BLM free camping up here, too, and I’ve always wanted to cruise around and check out the weird little towns between Reno and Vegas — places like Elko, Battle Mountain, Caliente and Ely. There’s all kinds of fucked-up shit going on in Nevada — and I plan to uncover it all!! Or as much as I can in ten days, since I have a shoot on Feb. 18th and another on March 1st, so I can only go between those dates.

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Mystery of the Desert….IT’S A WONDER!

But I’m really looking forward to it. If only I could find some publication willing to pay me to write about/photograph my experiences….now, that would be amazing, and I might even be able to stay gone longer. Oh, well….either way, it’s gonna be a blast. YEEEEEE-HAW!!!

 

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Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night…

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photo by DespayreFX

2015 has barely begun, but so far….it’s looking a lot like last year. Unfortunately for my intellectual development (but fortunately for this blog), I haven’t matured much at all — though it’s barely two weeks into the new year, I’ve already been up to my same old tricks: boozing, smoking…and running around the desert naked. That’s right; though it’s only mid-January, with temps FAR below optimal…I already have two desert photo shoots in the can. So to speak!

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I don’t LOOK cold!
pic by DespayreFX

You might think that January is a bit early in the season for that kind of thing, and guess what… you’d be right! Though Vegas is in the middle of the Mojave Desert, and gets something like 364 days of nuclear-grade sunshine a year, I’m here to tell you that it gets cold as fuck here in the winter — and even rains on occasion. But sometimes you just have to sack up and be miserable in the name of art….or in the name of paying the electric bill :/ Nude models can’t call in sick because of weather — it just doesn’t work that way. If someone hires you to recline seductively on a cactus….by god, you recline seductively on a cactus, weather be damned. We’re like the post office: neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays us from the swift completion of our appointed rounds.

The first shoot of the year wasn’t bad, actually — a genial sci-fi enthusiast from Southern California hired me to go out to the desert with him and pose in the Princess Leia slave bikini costume one of my readers bought me awhile back. I had never gotten around to shooting any photos in that costume, because it was one of those cheapie deals where it looked way better on the website, but when it arrived, the plastic was all warped and fucked up…so I had sort of given up on it.

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A long time ago, in a galaxy far away…

But this Star Wars fanboy had two lady friends with him, both of whom had brought their slave Leia bikini costumes as well…and he wanted all of us to pose together, like a sort of Charlie’s Angels of Slave Leias. So I had no choice — I busted out my trusty heat gun, which I had originally bought to make my electric vagina codpiece, and set about de-warping the plastic on my slave bikini. Guess what? It actually worked pretty well!

So I cruised out to the desert and met this jolly trio at one of my favorite locations, out near Lake Mead. They turned out to be super cool people — a group of backcountry hot springs enthusiasts from the Inland Empire who enjoy adventuring around the desert in their free time, stopping to pose for artsy nude photos here and there. My kind of people!

The only difference between us was, the three of them apparently have some kind of actual careers going on…so the two women were unable/unwilling to pose nude anywhere with even the slightest chance of being seen by passers-by, for fear of risking their livelihoods (I didn’t ask what they do, but it must be pretty important). Which is why I proposed shooting at this particular location, which is waaaaaaaaaay out in the desert at a spot that normally sees little traffic.

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the cheesy costume bikini

Alas, the day of our shoot was a Saturday, and it happened to be a warm, sunny day to boot — so there were quite a few tourists and hikers out there wandering around, which made the other two women pretty nervous. We had to poke around for quite a while before we found a spot secluded enough to meet their standards — they didn’t even want to pose in the slave bikinis anywhere within eyesight of anyone. But we finally did find a hidden spot, and commenced to pose for a number of artsy Triple Slave Leia photos. Talk about a jackpot!! It was enough to make Bitcoin spew from the meatus of nerds and geeks across the land…especially when we took off our bras and did topless shots! We must have looked like some whacked-out intergalactic 1960s Phil Spector-produced girl group, chained up in some dive titty cantina on Tatooine, forced to sing Brill building schlock to aliens and wookiees 24/7. Far out!!!

DOUBLEPLUS ALAS, however…though the shoot went well, and everyone was happy, because the others have actual careers and reputations to protect, none of these photos will ever see the light of day. I know — as titillating the sight of three topless Slave Leias cavorting around the desert sounds, you’ll just have to use your imagination, because I will never be able to post anything here. D’OH!!!!! A great disservice to geeks and fanboys the world over…so sorry!!! 

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Nothing stops the Huss!
photo by DespayreFX

Anyway, that was a great, fun shoot, and the very next day I was back out in the desert again — at the exact same location, in fact, shooting with this crazy Canadian who had hired me for a full day. He’d booked the shoot quite a while back, and at the time I’d acknowledged the fact that it would likely be freezing fucking c-c-cold…but I agreed to sack up and do it anyway, because a little thing like frostbite doesn’t stop Wonderhussy! And it certainly doesn’t stop a crazed artist from Canada!!

Either way, at first I thought I was gonna be lucky — the weather at the Leia shoot had been really nice and sunny, and almost balmy. But of course the morning of the all-day shoot dawned overcast, drizzly and miserable…perfect shooting weather icon sad Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night... Again, it’s not like I can call in sick on account of weather; this poor guy had flown thousands of miles to come shoot in the desert, so it was now or never. Still….he did have a really nice 2-story suite booked at the Vdara, so more than a small part of me was hoping he would decide to bail on the desert and just shoot indoors.

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photo by DespayreFX

No such luck! You know these fucking Canadians — they have pure alcohol in their veins keeping them warm, and this guy in particular also had the fire of Art burning in his gut…so when I cruised over to pick him up Sunday morning, he was raring to go– inclement weather or no. D’OH!!!! We drove through increasingly heavy rain to the first location, where he was kind enough to allow me to curl up in caves and alcoves for the most part, staying semi-dry and semi-thawed…and I thought for a minute that I might actually survive intact.

But then we headed over to the second location, and I’m here to tell you, I have rarely been so cold in all my life!! The rain let up, but in its place, a biting cold wind came sweeping in, chilling me to the bone. I’m here to tell you, it is NO FUN AT ALL trying to look serene and elegant while a freezing desert wind blow straight up your ass — it’s all you can do to stop your teeth from chattering and your knees from knocking together! Let me tell you, I questioned my life choices more than a few times on that shoot.

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trying not to look cold!
pic by DespayreFX

It wasn’t all bad, though; the photographer himself was a super cool guy, and while en route to the second location, he had me stop on the highway to do one of those lonely desert highway shots, where I would stand at the side of the road, hitchhiking in the nude. I pulled over to the shoulder and parked, and stayed in the truck keeping warm while he got out and set up the shot, placing a little rock on the asphalt where he wanted me to stand. When he was ready, he gave the signal, so all I had to do was pull off my clothes, jump out, run over to the rock in my high heels and stand there “hitchhiking” with viciously clattering teeth for a few seconds while he blasted away as cars passed me by. All in all, I was only out on the highway for maybe 12 seconds tops…but guess what?!!? When I checked my Facebook later, I had a message from one of my friends: “Hey, were you hitchhiking naked at the side of U.S. 95 earlier today?!”

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Hi-Yo!!!
pic by DespayreFX

LOLOLOLOL!!!!!! Talk about a small world — you never know who is out there at any given moment! So I can actually understand the other two Leias’ reticence in posing nude the day before — you really never know who’s going to see you! Fortunately for me….I don’t give a fuck anyway, so bring it on. I don’t care who sees me naked!

Anyway, after that we ended up going back to his hotel to finish the shoot indoors…and we got some really, really cool shots! The Vdara is an exceptionally nice hotel for photo shoots — the decor is modern and really elegant, and the rooms have lots of windows, allowing for tons of natural light. I wholeheartedly recommend it to photographers…as do I wholeheartedly recommend shooting with this particular photographer to models — he goes by the photography name DespayreFX, and is a super nice guy, overall very considerate of my needs, plying me with coffee & Baileys and even treating me to a delicious steak dinner at the Circus Circus steakhouse (one of the best in town, actually!). Models, I personally vouch for him!

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mmmmm…cotton candy!

Now speaking of photographers, my New Year’s resolution was to up my game, photographically speaking, and start doing more technically complex, elaborate shoots with better production values. So with that in mind, I accepted the invitation of a well-known local Vegas showbiz figure who also dabbles in photography on the side; he messaged me one day after seeing my New Year’s Eve cotton candy photos, saying he had his own cotton candy spinning machine, and we should do a shoot where I was wearing a dress made of cotton candy.

HELLO! As mentioned last time, I have long been obsessed with cotton candy, so of course I said yes — plus, I had just finished crafting this amazing candyland-style showgirl headdress out of odds & ends from the Christmas clearance aisle at WalMart, and I figured it would fit the theme perfectly. I spackled on some makeup and hightailed it over to his McMansion, where his idea was to remove the housing from the machine so I could just spin my naked body around it as it flung hot, molten sugar into the air…using my body as a sort of cone, as it were, catching the flying sugar strands as I twirled around.

I had my doubts; it didn’t sound like it was going to work, to me — I figured the housing was necessary to properly form the candy floss strands. Well, imagine my surprise when I realized he was RIGHT — it worked!! I spun my naked body around the machine as it flung sugary strands onto me, and they really did stick and start to build up into a sort of dress-like mass. WOW!!! As soon as the candy had built up enough, we headed into the house where he had set up his lights and backdrop, and blasted away.

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mmmmm…transfats
pic by Randy Fosth

ALAS (another huge alas…that’s two in one blog :/), he messaged me later in the week saying the photos didn’t come out as he wanted…so I have nothing to show for my efforts. Thankfully, however, I had thought ahead and arranged to go over to my friend Randy Fosth/Shutterbug Studio’s house that same night, after the cotton candy shoot, to do a second set in my new headdress over there….so that I didn’t waste a good makeup job, in case the first set didn’t come out. Since I didn’t want to steal the first guy’s cotton candy idea, I hit the dollar store beforehand and bought a bunch of those colored jimmies they put s on donuts and ice cream and stuff…then covered my entire chest in them icon smile Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night... See for yourself — they came out fabulous!!! Good times!!! (Incidentally, models…I also vouch for Shutterbug-Studio. He shot my first nudes back in 2008, and we’ve been friends ever since.)

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Our Lady of Perpetual Wantonness
photo by Keri Pettit

Then another day, I did a shoot with this awesome local female photographer, Keri Pettit, for an online fashion magazine called Avant. The theme this month was flowers, so I came up with the idea of shooting me like a Catholic saint, surrounded by flowers, with a long Virgin-of-Guadalupe-style shroud around me…and to shake things up, a big red dildo in my hand. Sacrilicious!!! In line with my “better production values” vow, we spent quite a bit of time building the set and getting everything ready, but the photos came out killer, so it was totally worth it. I plan to print them out as labels, and stick them to those jar candles and give them out to people I meet as gifts. Our Lady of Sacred Wantonness — Patron Saint of Hussies Everywhere! You better pray, bitches!!!

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It’s hard to wear a pocket protector when you have no pockets!

We also did an amazing set with my new favorite prop — this über-cool pair of 1960s-engineering geek glasses I picked up at one of those cheapie clothing stores on the eastside. I have long been a huge fan of physicists (Richard Feynman is my #1 crush of all time….if you’re reading this from beyond the grave, Dick…call me!) so I decided to do a sort of tribute to them by posing for some geeky physics cheesecake photos — I went to the library and checked out pretty much every physics book they had, then hit up a thrift store for a short-sleeve button-down shirt and a tie. The end results were nothing short of fabulous, and I can’t wait to share them with you!!!

Now meanwhile, it wasn’t all fun and games, romping around the desert nude — I also had some boring-ass corporate gigs in there, too. It’s convention season again already, so that means I had to drag my ass down to the convention center for the annual torture-fest tradition known as CES, for three days of hell hob-nobbing with dorks and assholes (the kind of physics geeks who turn me on don’t go to CES, alas…although I did see a few hot nerds) (I like nerds).

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I’d rather be flexing my abs in the desert!
pic by DespayreFX

Worse, I had the same exact gig as last year, which you might recall turned out to be sooooo odious that I ended up taking mushrooms on the job the last day (read about it here). Well, this year was just as odious, but I somehow muddled through and made it out alive…barely. But it was a truly torturous three days, let me tell you. How the fuck do I get a FUN client for next year????

To make things even more boring, it just seemed like an especially dull CES this year — there weren’t even any really cool new gadgets being debuted. Most years there’s some hot new product that blows everyone away and steals the show, but this year it was just a bunch of novelty crap like quadcopter drones and this dumb dress made of robotic tentacles that would poke out at you if you threatened the wearer’s personal space. The most interesting thing on display was this hyper-realistic Asian android babe at the Toshiba booth, which I’m certain was built with a hyper-realistic super-tight vagina and anus…but that was really just about it. The rest of the show was just exceptionally lame this year!

The only thing I saw that really was cool (android anus aside) was at the Nikon booth. There, they had this amazing interactive photo booth set up with 48 Nikon D750s arranged in a circle, and when it was your turn you got to go in, stand in the center, and then on the count of three you would jump up in the air. A booth babe threw a handful of glitter on you at the exact moment the shutters all clicked, and then all the 48 photos were stitched together to capture you sort of floating in the air all Matrix-style, 360 degrees around. It was FAR FUCKING OUT…check it out by clicking on the photo (there are two different photos; be sure to scroll down):

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Those are without a doubt the coolest photos I have *EVER* taken, bar none!! But they were the only cool thing about the entire dumbass trade show, in my opinion…and I’m glad to put it all behind me. I hate working that fuckin’ show!

To make matters worse, I wrote a really funny piece about shrooming as a booth babe at CES, and submitted it to like 5 different editors at Vice.com….and none of them ever responded, so I didn’t even get any intellectual validation for my suffering icon sad Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night... I’m starting to freak out, people — ever since the paper I used to write for shut down last year, I haven’t written one single thing for pay, anywhere. You tell me — am I an engaging writer?? Or am I doomed to be a naked hack forever?!?! Time will tell…….

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driving to the porn set

Speaking of naked hacks, the following week I got a call to be a background extra in another porno movie that was being filmed here in town, at the studios of this one company that shoots a lot of stuff here. This was my third time as a porn extra, and it was just as much fun as the other times: this new production is a big-tit fetish movie, so the lead actress is this beautiful blonde with ginormous all-natural tits, who works as a loan officer at a bank. She gets into trouble with the bank manager over her low-cut outfits, and ends up conspiring with a wannabe robber who happens onto the scene just as she’s getting fired. Together, they end up robbing the bank and I guess he titty-fucks her somewhere along the way, as the working title of this masterpiece is “Titty Heist.”

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Too big to fail

Anyway, we shot part one the other day, and I have to go back next week to do part two — this movie has a lot of action and dialogue for a porno, LOL. I’m playing a bank teller, so I busted out my CES suit and my new engineer glasses again, and all in all I think it made for a very professional look…don’t you? icon smile Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night...

By now, I’ve worked with this crew a few times, and I have to say…they’re all amazing people. Super fucking nice, down to earth and totally unpretentious, one and all. My favorite is the director, this handsome, no-nonsense Gen-X type who makes up amazing dialogue on the fly, calls all the female talent “babygirl” and all the males “bro,” and who has an amazing screensaver made of selfies of him and his beloved bulldog, who he brings to the studio with him but keeps locked up in a special room, away from the riff-raff. Awwwww! It’s the details in life that get to me…how can I ever despair for humankind when there’s people like this running around?!?

Aside from the awesomeness of the crew, this time there were also some amazing background extras onset, as well. There was this one kid in particular who was straight out of some kind of soap opera — we’ll call him Johnny Rockett (his legal name was similar, but astonishingly even more awesome than that). Handsome in a sort of disheveled, dissolute John Taylor way, he ended up in Vegas by way of Iran, Russia and a Swiss boarding school from which he was kicked out for reasons unknown, but probably involving some sort of uppercrust shenanigans. A fellow Burning Man habitué, we had plenty to chat about between takes, and he turned out to be a pretty cool guy. Then after we wrapped for the day, he rode off on a shining Harley. L M F A O ! ! ! ! ! ! ! You can’t make this shit up!!!

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The one and only!

Now speaking of shit that can’t be made up…I’m pleased to announce here that I have begun a fabulous collaboration with another colorful local character, this guy who goes by Mister Tony. I first met Mister Tony a few years back down on Fremont Street, where he was strutting around in a chartreuse satin suit emblazoned with “MR. TONY” on the back…so of course I had to approach him and ask him what it was all about. Come to find out, he was once a German transplant in North Carolina, stuck in a humdrum engineering gig that was killing his soul…until one day he quit his job, moved to Vegas, branded himself as Mister Tony and set about making a living as an entertainer/personality/happy-maker. He even recorded a fabulous CD of amazing Dieter’s-Dance-Party-type tunes, which he gave me once when I was working at The Act nightclub. Check it out!!

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Mister Tony’s sick Audi

Anyway, to promote his new line of colorful women’s clothes, Mister Tony and his producer have decided to make a short film about the whole thing…and they asked me if I would star as the villainess!! We met up at a local Starbucks to discuss, and of course I said absolutely! We haven’t started shooting anything yet, but needless to say I am giddy with excitement over this opportunity. It’s going to be amazing!

So anyway, in between all this fabulousness, the year has gotten off to a great start. I even had time for a hike one day down to the Arizona Hot Springs, a/k/a Ringbolt Hot springs — the ones down by the Hoover Dam with the two-story metal ladder you have to climb up to access them. The springs and the ladder were totally destroyed in a monsoonal flash flood last September…but I am pleased to report that the pools have been beautifully rebuilt, and the ladder was even securely reattached to the rock face, although the handles at the top were broken off…so it’s kinda sketchy getting on and off. But still an amazing place, and the water was clean and hot icon smile Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night...

Now….looking back at everything I’ve done in just the past two weeks, you might be wondering when or if I actually find time to cook and eat food (aside from the steak dinner at Circus Circus, that is). Well, the answer is — I don’t!! And now I don’t even have to worry about it, because….I am supremely pleased to announce that my shipment of Soylent finally arrived!!!

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This represents a week’s nutrition (at 2,000 calories a day…for me, more like 9 days’ worth)

All corny dystopian sci-fi jokes aside, Soylent is this new food-replacement drink that was formulated by some crazy busy young hacker who never had time to cook/money to eat out, so he formulated this nutritionally complete beverage that you can just drink whenever you get hungry, and it fills you up without having to mess with flesh and leaves and shit. How progressive!! It’s sort of like gassing up your body with high-octane fuel, as needed — when you feel hungry, you drink a few hundred calories until the next time you feel hungry, at which time you top off your tank again. And because the drink contains nothing but nutrients, there isn’t much waste for your body to process…so you save even more time and money in the bathroom! A win-win, if I ever heard of one.

I ordered it back in like September or so, but because it got so much media buzz there’s a huge backlog of orders…so my order just finally arrived last week. Boy, was I excited!! This was right during my hellish experience at CES, so I was able to mix some up and bring it with me for lunch, saving me from having to shell out money on overpriced, unhealthy schlock at the convention center. It worked great!!! About 500 calories’ worth sustained me all day until around 7pm, at which time I ate normal food for dinner — I don’t intend to replace all my meals with it, just maybe 2 out of 3.

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mmmmm….breakfast

For those interested, here is my review: the taste and consistency is something like cake batter (this is version 1.3; earlier versions had taste issues, I hear)…only less sweet. Overall pleasant, and fairly thick. Easy to mix up and store, and so far I haven’t had any digestive issues — other users report gross flatulence, but I’ve been eating a high-fiber diet for years, so I guess my system is used to it, as it hasn’t been a problem. The cost breaks down to around $11 for 2,000 calories — so for me, about $9/day (if I were to eat nothing else).

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No more of this nonsense!!
pic by DespayreFX

So, what’s my overall take? I do find it useful and convenient, and will continue to use Soylent as a meal replacement when working trade shows, or hiking, or in other situations in which food is inconvenient. But to be perfectly honest, I feel like I would get bored if I ate it too often…and I also find that it’s frighteningly easy to consume too many calories. A few hundred here, a few hundred there…it adds up fast, unless you were to really ration it out and limit your intake. But in that case, I’d rather just stick to intermittent fasting, and save time and money that way — in a way, I’d rather not eat at all than drink something that is not really 100% satisfying, but has a significant amount of calories. For me, it’s more rewarding to eat something I really enjoy, less often. But that being said, I do find Soylent to be a useful addition to any busy nude model’s pantry!!

Til next time….see you in the desert!

 

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