Desperate Toe-Sucking Freak

Halloween is tomorrow!!! Being that this is Vegas, and knowing me and my penchant for booze, parties and costumes, you’d think I’d be running around dressed as a slutty so-and-so, a drink in each hand and a joint in my mouth.

Sadly, this has not been the case.

For some reason, I have been absolutely DELUGED with work the past few weeks. I mean, DELUGED! As in, I’ve been working two or three gigs a day…EVERY DAY. It’s great for my pocketbook (that $9000 I need to make is now down to $6800)…but it’s terrible for my social life 🙁 Why, just last Saturday alone I had to turn down THREE fabulous parties, so that I could hustle for a buck instead 🙁

The first party I had to decline was a Burning Man-style light-up bicycle pub crawl around downtown Vegas, where everyone was dressed as Superheroes. DAMN! I can’t imagine anything more fun than getting blotto and cruising around the ghetto in my Wonder Woman costume…unless it was going to a marijuana-themed HalloWEED party at a 4-acre kooky fake castle estate in East Las Vegas…which also happened to fall on the same night. Could ANYTHING be more fun than that?

Why, yes — on the very same night, some 45 miles northwest of town, out in the middle of the desert (across the highway from the air force base where Captain Crunch, Sgt. Peanut & co. fly predator drones, coincidentally) the local Wiccan crew held their annual Bonedance celebration! You might remember this fabulous ceremony from when I crashed it last year — basically, it’s a bunch of bearded people in cloaks and tribal gypsy wear dancing around a huge bonfire to the beat of a massive drum circle, as priestesses chant and wizards cast spells, banishing the spirits of the past and ushering in a new dawn. This goes on all night long, until the sun rises above the mountains — at which time everyone hushes dead silent, and a lone violinist warbles a tune of rebirth. As mentioned, I went last year…but I kinda half-assed it, since I didn’t know what to expect. This year, I was actually officially invited by one of the head wizards, and had planned to go balls-out and dance til sunrise in a cloak of my own….

But alas, work got in the way. Other parties I missed due to work this past week included: a costume party/screening of The Big Lebowski in the park down the street from my house (D’oh!!! I *LOVE* that movie!); local photographer Shane O’Neal’s fabulous annual Halloween party (double D’oh!!); and the annual Fetish & Fantasy Ball at the Hard Rock Hotel, to which a friend had hooked me up with a free ticket (TRIPLE D’OH!!!). Fabulous parties, one and all…but I had to decline them all, in the interest of making money to repay my debts.

Fortunately for me, my various odd gigs are usually fairly interesting…and I’m  mostly able to have a good time no matter what I’m doing. Even my dumb-ass souvenir photographer gig was kind of interesting this week, with distinguished luminaries such as Larry King, Shania Twain and Morgan Freeman making appearances in the showroom where I work. I’m notoriously terrible at celebrity-spotting — I didn’t even recognize Larry King at first; I just thought to myself, “Oh my God, that poor old man looks just like Larry King.” Ha!!! Turns out he was there as part of some rich old 1-Percenter’s birthday party — dig this: to celebrate his 80th birthday, some tycoon bought show tickets for 300 of his closest friends! With tickets at around $250 each, can you IMAGINE??! AND he also threw in dinner at Spago! Allowing for $100 a head for dinner, that’s a total tab of around $105,000!!!!!! Holy cannoli!! And here I am beating myself up to make $9,000!!!!!!! I am DEFINITELY doing something wrong. I guess I should be blowing some tycoon!

Instead, I made my money $100 at a time, doing my usual assortment of random gigs. First I worked a specialty graphics tradeshow — I haven’t worked a tradeshow in AGES, as I find it mind-numbingly tedious work, and besides, I never get booked by any of the agencies around town, due to my not having any tits. But this show was different — these super-cool Canadian dudes hired to me wear a  bright green morphsuit printed to look like an alien, and basically just fuck with the attendees at the expo. It was a blast! If you don’t know what a morphsuit is, it’s basically a full-body stocking with a hood that covers your face and head as well. You can see through it a little, but people can’t see your features at all. Bwahahahahaha!!!!! I had a pretty good time messing with people at the show, and it was great not having to wear high heels or any of that standard tradeshow booth babe crap. The only downside was, the hood/face covering was pretty tight, and mashed my nose flat every day. When I took off the suit, it took a few minutes for my features to pop back out to normal. Also, it made my face break out. But other than that, it was good times.

The best time of all was when this big, fat Italian guy in the booth next door started in bashing the Canadian healthcare system. He was from Miami, so all he knew from the Canadian healthcare system was probably from watching FOX News — but that didn’t stop him from going on and on about how “in CANADA, you have to WAIT for treatment.” The guys I was working for stepped in to correct him, since they actually live in Canada and use the healthcare system…but the Italian guy would not be dissuaded. He knew better, and there was no arguing with him…so in the interests of peace, love and harmony, the Canadians let it drop. But, seriously! Why is there such hostility on the part of so many when it comes to socialized medicine??? Come on people — Jesus would have TOTALLY supported it!

Anyhoo, aside from the tradeshow, I also did a number of photo shoots. I spent one afternoon out in Red Rock Canyon with two guys from New York, another afternoon in the same area with a guy from Connecticut and my good friend and fellow model Jill V., and another afternoon at a nude photography seminar for the new website This last one was a real hoot, as there were about 15 photographers and only 3 models…so it was like a feeding frenzy. The guys were all supposed to have booked specific times with specific models, but it ended up being sort of a free-for-all, with guys literally elbowing each other out of the way so they could get a better angle of my crotch. One guy even locked himself in the bedroom with me, to keep the other photographers at bay!!! It was NUTS! Even nuttier, some of the guys made disparaging remarks about each other in private — not one but TWO photographers informing me they were the only real professionals in attendance. Honestly, I thought they were all pretty cool guys, and I wish we could all just get along. It’s funny; they talk about WOMEN being catty — but I have NEVER heard models sit around dissing each other the way I OFTEN hear photographers make snide remarks about one another!!!!! My FAVORITE is when they try to do it all sly and back-handed, like, “So-and-so has really come a long way in the past year.”  HAH!!!

Anyhoo, speaking of snide remarks… I was hustling so hardcore this past week that I even stooped to the unbelieveable depths of movie extradom!!! Back in the day, i used to think it was fun and glamorous to be a movie and TV extra — I did a few episodes of CSI, as well as a bunch of lame-ass forgettable Hollywood productions ranging from the miserable (21, starring Kevin Spacey) to the barely tolerable (Intolerable Cruelty, with George Clooney). I quit doing it after awhile, because I got sick of sitting around all day earning minimum wage…and besides, EVERY SINGLE TIME I did a scene, it either got cut out, or you couldn’t see me in it anyway. I remember one time, I was in this godawful movie with Drew Barrymore, and they put me in the scene RIGHT NEXT TO HER. I thought to myself, “Score!! There’s no way in hell they can crop me out of THIS shot!” But alas, they ended up axing the entire scene.

But this time, a friend of mine convinced me to go down and “audition” (i.e. prove that  I had a pulse), because supposedly they were paying union scale to legitimate street performers, for a scene they were shooting down on Fremont Street. He advised me to wear my showgirl costume, and tell the casting agent that I was one of those costumed hustlers who pose for photos in exchange for tips downtown. I had a feeling it wouldn’t pan out, but my friend was so insistent that  I went down anyway, and sure enough, they booked me as “background” (i.e. an extra), but told me to bring my costume anyway, because they “might” end up bumping me up. Even though I knew in my gut it was b.s., hope springs eternal….so SOMEHOW, I dragged my sorry ass out of bed at 4am and schlepped down to Binions for the ungodly 5:30 calltime. YIKES!

I figured what the hell — even if I did only make minimum wage for the day, I would at least meet a lot of freaks (you ought to SEE the FUCKING WEIRDOS who go out for these extra roles)…and it would be something interesting to blog about. WRONG! They made us sign a confidentiality agreement, so I can’t even tell you anything about the movie!!!!!! All I can say is, it’s a Baby Boomer take on a popular frat-boy-comedy franchise, starring a bunch of major A-list geezers (I mean actors)…and the premise actually sounds pretty funny. The scene we were in that particular morning involved a very famous and talented goombah-type actor, but he was so far away from me in the scene it could have been Wesley Snipes, for all I knew 🙁

This I blame on the wardrobe lady. We extras were instructed to dress as “Fremont Street pedestrians…” which if you’ve ever been to Fremont Street, basically means piss- or vomit-stained jeans for the guys, stretchy mini-dresses and bruised legs for the ladies. But this was Fremont Street as conceived by Hollywood — so we were told to dress like tourists in the fall: sweaters, jackets, cowboys, bikers, etc. Colors were repeatedly encouraged, as well — so I showed up wearing my pink cowboy hat, along with a denim ensemble. I figured the hat was too bright to pass muster, so as instructed I also brought a suitcase full of alternative outfits — dull, drab sweaters and the like (as well as my g.d. showgirl costume…just in case). But the wardrobe lady took one look at me and said “PERFECT!”, meaning I had spent all that time packing extra clothes for nothing….so I stumbled out onto the set, where my savvy friend placed me at a Michael Jackson slot machine, to pretend I was gambling, right in the line of sight of the camera. Honestly, I didn’t give a fuck — I’m not one of those extras desperate for “face time;” I know no-fucking-body even LOOKS at the extras in those movies, anyway, so who cares. But you’d be astonished at the amount of jockeying that goes on among the background, as they all try to elbow one another out of the way to get in the shot.

But of course, one of the P.A.s moved me in about two seconds, because my hat was too bright….so I spent the entire morning drinking Starbucks with my “Fuck You, I’m an Artist” koozie on it, grousing with some of the other weirdos onset about how shitty our lives are. Bah, humbug!! To make matters WORSE, for once in my life the shoot didn’t run over, and they actually let us go after only 6 hours — meaning I made a whopping $49.50 for getting up at 4am and wasting my entire morning!!!!!!!!!!!!! AARRRGHHHHHH!!!

That lamentable production was filming in Vegas the entire week, and my friend tried to get me to do more scenes… but one day was PLENTY enough for me — and besides, I had tons of other, better-paying work lined up anyway. I did a couple of foot fetish shoots, which are always fun and easy………… well, USUALLY fun and easy! This time, one of the male “subs” (submissives, i.e. the guy who licks your feet) cancelled out, so the director asked me if I wouldn’t mind stepping in and sucking a girl’s toes for a change.


Truthfully, I TOTALLY minded — I have ZERO interest in feet, and sucking on a girl’s toes for 2 hours at $50/hour sounds about as much fun as being a movie extra for minimum wage. But, I was really in the money-making groove….and besides, the girl was a personal friend of mine whose feet I *KNOW* to be super clean and well-cared for. Problem was, the house where we shot the videos was home to three long-haired dogs and apparently no vacuum cleaner whatsoever….so we had to keep cutting so I could stop and spit out hairs. BLEEEECCHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! As if sucking on toes wasn’t bad enough!!! And even WORSE, it was for a stockings & boots fetish site — so I had to suck/lick/kiss shoes and boots and woolly tights for TWO SOLID HOURS!! I’m here to tell you, I had the worst case of cottonmouth EVER after that — my tongue and lips were swollen twice their freaking size for HOURS!!!!

After that, I swore I’d never do THAT nastiness EVER AGAIN……but then the director asked if I might just consider doing it just one more time the very next day???  By now I was in a sort of money-making trance, so I said “Well, okayyyyyy….” and went back the following evening for more punishment. Arrrrghhhhh!!!

Now, in the meantime, this fabulous new nightclub had just opened — in fact, their opening night gala party was the night of my first toe-licking session. Normally I despise nightclubs, but this one was said to be super cool — sort of a sick & twisted perverted circus burlesque kind of theater thingy, with an almost incidental nightclub attached. It sounded badass to me, so when my friend Phil Connors invited me, I jumped at the chance. The invitation said costumes were encouraged, so I rigged up a super cool burlesque-style getup, and invited another street-performer friend of mine who just happens to have size KKK tits (I know, I know….WHY didn’t she stop at JJJ or go on to LLL??!!!).

Anyhoo, we all three headed over there for a night of perverted Cabaret-style hijinks……but alas, the opening night crowd was TOTALLY lame; all local nightclub industry people in all-black, with skinny jeans, Louis Vuitton bags and Christian Louboutain stilettoes and the like. LAME!!!! There was nary a costume in sight, and my KKK-tits friend and I stuck out like sore thumbs. I’ve never felt so self-conscious in all my LIFE! Worse, the place was SO PACKED that when the bizarre show started, you couldn’t even see the stage! I climbed up on a bench to watch, but some snooty priss next to me made me get down because it was “her” table that she “paid” for (if you call sucking dick paying, well then OK). I got so mad that I shoved a champagne glass up her ass and got the fuck out of there, vowing never, ever to return. I bawled my eyes out on the way home, due to exhaustion, PMS and that annoying high-school feeling of not being one of the cool people (the local Vegas nightlife scene is TOTALLY like high school…which is why I LOATHE it and avoid it like the plague).

So I went home and bawled all night…but then the very next day, one of my wacky Burning Man friends who works as an atmosphere model at that very same club told me they REALLY needed people in crazy-ass costumes to come down and work as “atmosphere” (i.e. basically hang around in a freaky costume and fuck with people) at the club for opening week…and could I do it??! They were supposedly paying $200 for 3 hours, so I was allllll about it.

The only problem was, I had just arrived at my second toe-sucking shoot — and it was scheduled to go til 7pm. Meanwhile, the club thing started AT 7pm. I figured I could suck the other chick’s toes extra fast, get done early, haul ass home, put on a costume, and be there in time…..but then of course the other girl was THIRTY MINUTES LATE!!! ARRRRGHHHH!!! I ***HATE*** it when people are late! When she finally got there, I rushed through the shoot as fast as possible, licking and sucking and kissing like a fiend, rubbing my tongue raw in the process but not giving a fuck. Then I busted my ass home as quick as possible, threw on a costume (my friend said they wanted “dark cabaret”-type stuff, so I repurposed my Marie Antoinette shtick from that stupid Midsummer’s Lingerie Ball, adding a few dark elements like black lipstick and a veil, and headed over.

WHAT AN AWESOME BLAST!!!!!!!! I can’t believe I hated that club so much the previous night — it was definitely due to the crowd in attendance; with a normal crowd, the place was FABULOUS. I ended up working there three nights in a row — each night going into the little closet-sized dressing area shared by all the atmosphere kooks and freaks, putting on my heavy freakish makeup, and dressing my ginormous wig…then going out to skulk about the hallways of the club, messing with people in an artsy, Cirque-du-Soleil-type way (the guy in charge of the “atmosphere” said he wanted me to be “non-verbal,” LOL. *F*U*N*!!!!!!!! First of all, that club is decorated in a MOST awesome manner — like an old-timey opera house, with ornate banisters and balconies and weird artwork everywhere, like a giant golden statue of a man with a clinically detailed vagina in the entry vestibule.  Second of all, I was able to actually watch the show…and it is FREEEEEAKY! I guess this club has other locations in London and New York that are legendary for their obscene acts of lewdness and freakiness (including a transsexual who sticks a wine bottle up her ass, and another transsexual who does a  reverse strip tease — coming onstage nude, then pulling clothes from her ass, twat and mouth and getting dressed). But this being a casino, and the gaming board overseeing everything and all, they had to tame it down quite a bit. BOO! But it was still pretty freaky!

There are one or three acts in particular that I found absolutely AMAZING, and I have to say I highly recommend this place, if you want to go out to a nightclub that isn’t just the usual b.s. It’s very decadent/dissolute Weimar Republic freakshow, and would pair amazingly well with mushrooms….if I do say so myself. Aside from it being an absolutely beautiful atmosphere, it’s chock-a-block with freaks and artsy weirdos…and even the cocktail waitresses were red latex dresses with glow-in-the-dark hats! Also, it’s fairly small, so you won’t feel like a salmon swimming upstream to spawn in a sea of fist-pumping douchebags, like you do at “other” clubs. 😀 Check it OUT!!!

So anyhoo, for the past few days I’ve been non-stop working — photo shoot, then souvenir photo gig, then nightclub til 2am — and it is WEARING ME OUT!!!! Thank Dog the showroom where I work is going dark for an entire month, so I can just concentrate on the nightclub gig — I really want to enjoy this while it lasts! They haven’t paid us yet, just had us fill out Independent Contractor forms — so I’m kinda hesitant to get TOO excited about it until I actually see some ca$h. But I truly hope it works out, since I have a BAJILLION crazy costumes I want to try out, and it’s basically like being paid to go to Burning Man every night 😀

Alas, however, I got booked for this stupid car tradeshow this week, so for the next few days I have to stand around in high heels at the booth of an unnamed Korean auto parts manufacturer. Let me tell you, Gangnam Style it ain’t!! These poor Koreans don’t know quite WHAT to make of me — one of them asked me why I blinked one eye (I was doing a sort of flirty wink-y thing to some d-bag attendee, trying to get him to stop in the booth as per my job description). I tried to explain to him how in America, a wink is a flirtatious thing….but he was totally confused. It was amazingly endearing to watch him try to mimic me — he just couldn’t seem to do it, haha.

But even more endearingly, this beautiful young chick who works for them came over to chat with me toward the end of the day today, telling me in her broken English (she speaks like 4 languages, including fluent Spanish, for Chrissake!) how she has to be at work everyday at 7:30am, and works  til 7pm — often til midnight or later!! She said she feels like she has no life, and wants to quit while she’s young so she can rive her rife (sorry, I had to do it…no offense intended). I wholeheartedly endorsed her dreams, telling her she only has ONE life, and should LIVE it the way she wants to!! I felt bad for her, taking advice from a desperate toe-sucking freak like me….but what the hell. I guess to SOME people, my life is glamorous. Errrrrr……sometimes!!!

Anyhoo, the worst thing of all is that tomorrow is Halloween, so I’m supposed to get up at 6:30am, work the tradehow from 9-5, then go home, get dressed in my Halloween costume, go downtown to the fabulous 3rd Annual Las Vegas Halloween Parade, hang out and party til about 10pm or so, and then go back over to the nightclub til around 2am….and THEN get up at 6:30 and go back to the tradeshow for one more day!!! I could probably do it — but horror of horrors, I got ghastly ill this morning, and am running a fever and feel like SHIT! My plan is to drink this weird herbal ginseng concoction my kooky roommate made for me, then pass out early — and pray to Dog that I wake up feeling better. Because whatever I do………………….. AS DOG IS MY WITNESS….I AM ***NOT*** MISSING ANOTHER PARTY!!!!!!!!!

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Nude Model Ghost Town Takeover!

I’m a woman on a mission!! I need to make $9000 by Dec. 3rd, and I will stop at nothing in my pursuit of this goal!


Why $9,000 by Dec. 3rd? Well, after I lost my other house to the vultures at Chase/Seterus, a very kind friend offered me an opportunity to start anew: he basically gifted me a cheap shitbox of a house in downtown Vegas, with the understanding that I would buy it from him over time. (You’d be surprised at how little money it takes to buy a house in Vegas these days…even a schmuck like me can afford one.) My friend was kind enough not to charge me interest on it, so since then I’ve been paying him back incrementally, bit by bit….but as it happens, I need to come up with nine large by December.


So I’ve been hustling like a madwoman, trying to earn the money to pay my debt off. As usual, the pursuit of money has led me down some unsavory avenues….but lucky for me, this past week I finally scored a few totally SAVORY gigs for a change!

The most savory of all was this two-day photo shoot I was hired for, out in a ghost town at Gold Point, NV. These two photographers from back East had hired four models for a sort of road trip/photo shoot, and had rented out an entire ghost town for the purpose. They were going for a classic art-nude look, and said they had a devil of a time finding appropriate models in Vegas — apparently, most models here are of the giant-fake-titted, bleached-blonde-hair-extension variety…which was not what they were looking for. But after much searching of, they finally came up with four all-natural Vegas chicks (probably the ONLY four all-natural chicks in Vegas). And I’m pleased to report…ALL of us had a bush, in one form or another 🙂


Anyhoo, we all met up at the Hard Rock on Friday morning, and then piled in the car for the 3-hour drive up to Gold Point. Now, I’ve lived here for 12 years, and pride myself on my extensive knowledge of the surrounding desert…but I’d never heard of Gold Point. Whaaaaa?!!! HOW HAVE I MISSED OUT ON THIS FANTASTIC SPOT ALL THIS TIME?!!


Apparently, Gold Point was an old mining town near Lida, just off U.S. 95 North (I pass it every year on my way to Burning Man…D’OH!!) An old-West buff bought the town piece by piece, and after winning a $220,000 jackpot playing video poker at the Texas Station Casino, used the funds to fix up the old cabins and turn the place into a sort of rustic resort (best use of gambling winnings EVER!). Now the place is available for rent…whether you just want to stay in a cabin for the weekend, or overrun the entire place with naked chicks 🙂 For more information, check out their website.


Aaaaanyhoo, we all rolled into Gold Point around 4pm and were greeted by the caretaker/owner, an extremely genial, personable character named Sheriff Herb Stone. He showed us to the cabins where we’d be staying — all old-timey 1800s wooden shacks that had been completely remodeled in rustic-chic on the inside. Most of the cabins have RV-style toilets and no running water, but Sheriff Stone keeps his own bathroom open 24 hours, so you can just walk across the gravel courtyard and use his facilities when needed, day or night (just remember to keep the screen door latched, so the cat doesn’t get out :-).


Sheriff Stone informed us that dinner was at 8pm, so we all unpacked, got settled in, and then headed out to shoot some photos before then. As luck would have it, the weather had turned cold and nasty just the day before…so it was kinda challenging to run around naked looking carefree and blissful when your headlights were on painful hi-beam and your twat was an icicle. But, it’s all part of modeling…so I sucked it up and did my best! The photographers had brought a bunch of cool flowy white lace-type dresses and flannel shirts and stuff, so we weren’t TOTALLY nude, anyway 🙂


After shooting photos for a couple hours, we headed back to our cabins and changed into warmer clothes — one model even put on her Tinkerbell footie pajamas! Then we headed over to the saloon for dinner. THIS SALOON IS ONE OF THE MOST BAD ASS PLACES I HAVE EVER BEEN!!! Chock-a-block full of old-timey western paraphernalia and antiques, but also packed with a crowd of weekend warriors and rednecks, all of whom were there for a dirtbike trail ride the next day. What can I say…..


Roomful of rednecks + 4 nude models = HIJINKS!!!!


We stayed in the saloon for HOURS, eating, drinking, partying and boozing. The good Sheriff kept us well-plied with homebrewed Apple Pie schnapps, plus they have a fully-stocked bar with just about any liquor you can imagine (well, they probably don’t have my beloved, liberal-elitist Campari….but just about everything else). After a few drinks, the wood-burning stove got us gals kind of warm and toasty, so before you could say “wonderhussy” we were all nekkid, posing for photos with Sheriff Stone and Walt the bartender, as a million redneck cellphones captured the moment. GOOOOOOD TIMES!


Now, the photographers intended for us all to get up early and do some sunrise shooting, so I kinda kept an eye on the clock — I *HATE* getting up early, but if I’m being paid to do a job, well then by golly I’ll do it. So as the hour grew later and the party went on, I started getting antsy. I need my beauty sleep, ya know! Around 11pm or so we all finally said goodnight, and headed back to our cabins. Two of my fellow models professed an inability to sleep in late (?!?!?!), so it was agreed that those two would shoot first, at 7:30am. The other girl and I would meet everyone at breakfast, around 9am. Whew!


Thus relieved of our sunrise duty, my fellow late-sleeper and I decided to head back out to the campfire at one of the rednecks’ RV, where a few dirtbikers and fossil-hunters were hanging out, swapping stories and bullshitting. They were more than happy to see us amble over, and welcomed us into their circle, plying us with more apple pie booze and whatever else we wanted to drink! If there’s one thing I love in this world, it’s a campfire. If there’s another thing, it’s rednecks with booze. YAY!! We stayed up til all hours of the night, drinking and bullshitting and getting into political debates (I had to defend Obama to these right-wingers, don’t ya know). It was all in good spirit, and a really good time.



Around 2:30am I decided I better crawl into bed, so I bid adieu to the rednecks and headed for the cabin I was sharing with the other gal. I was sleeping in a loft bed, reached by a ladder over the main bed…but when I entered our cabin, I found that one of the other models had borrowed my pipe!!!!! You probably know that I have TERRIBLE insomnia, and cannot sleep without my legally prescribed medical marijuana — what to do?! I didn’t feel like traipsing outdoors over to the other cabin, and waking the other girls up in my search for my pipe. So I ripped a sheet of paper from my notebook, and rolled a half-assed joint. It didn’t work very well at ALL, and I spent a miserable night dozing fitfully in my loft as the other chick snoozed peacefully (with her naked boobs splayed out shamelessly, haha) below me.


Around 7am I couldn’t take it anymore, so I got up and climbed down the ladder, and went over to Sheriff Stone’s cabin to wash up. I had forgotten my toothbrush, so had to fake-brush my teeth with my finger (blecccchhh….I *HATE* doing that), but after I splashed a little cold water on my face I was good to go. I slapped on some makeup, and then ran into the two photographers out in the desert, shooting landscapes — they were too nice to bother the other models, who were still slumbering peacefully!! WTF! Have you ever heard of such nice photographers? These guys were AWESOME!


The other girls finally got up, and we all headed back to the saloon for a big old greasy breakfast…then went back out for more photos. That ghost town is like Disneyland for photographers!! Rusty old buildings everywhere, with antique cars and farm equipment and all kinds of fun stuff laying around — all of it free to shoot on! I’m telling you, it’s a photographer’s DREAM!


Luckily, one of the ghost town inhabitants (some people do live out there…it’s only 3 hours from Vegas and 1 hour from Tonopah) was more than willing to act as photo assistant, bringing us water and food and whatever we needed as we made our art. “Stranger” was a sunburned old ex-outlaw biker who had been “saved” by Jesus back in the day, and was now devoted to a life of good deeds and restoring one of the old cabins in Gold Point. Before his conversion, Stranger led a very full and colorful life, including stints as an interior designer and a model — he was even offered a gig as the Marlboro Man, but due to  “other projects” had to turn them down (!!). Now he bides his time restoring one of the old cabins in Gold Point, as well as doing construction jobs on buildings in nearby Tonopah and Goldfield…but despite his busy schedule, he somehow found the time to offer his assistance at every turn to a group of 4 naked models. Amazing!


After shooting til about 1 or 2pm, we packed up for the drive back to Vegas. I had to be at work by 6pm (BOOOO!), so I felt like the party pooper of the bunch, since we were all having so much fun that we probably could have shot for another week, at least. DAMN WORK! We packed all our bags, said our emotional farewells to Sheriff Stone, blonde saloon mistress Brenda, bartender Walt and of course Stranger, the solicitous biker — who told us in all seriousness that if any of us EVER, and I mean EVER, were in any trouble in our lives, we should find a way to get ahold of him, and he would help us. You see, he has an army of fellow ex-outlaw bikers at his beck and call…so if we ever felt like we were in trouble, we were to get ahold of him, and between him, his girlfriend and the army of outlaws, they would take care of it. Awww….good to know! Thanks, Stranger!! 😀


On the way back, we stopped just outside of Beatty, where a strip club/brothel called Bikinis squats in the desert south of town. The entire wall facing the highway is painted with 20-foot-tall letters spelling out “N U D E  G I R L S,” so we just had to stop for a photo op! There was only one woman on duty at the time, a leathery old blonde in a black evening gown and paste jewelry, with a squeaky icky-girly voice, but she and the club manager welcomed us in and even bandaged my toe for me, after I stubbed it viciously on some sharp evil deserty plant in my naked glee. D’OH!!!


We made it back to the Hard Rock in Vegas around 5:57 pm, and I was supposed to be in the photo lab at Caesars by 6pm. DOUBLE D’OH!!! I raced across town and got to work just in the nick of time, managing to shove my throbbing, bleeding toe into some crusty old flats I keep in my locker for just that reason 🙂 But I’m pleased to report, I did an EXCEPTIONAL job that night, selling an extraordinary dollar amount of photos! (That still didn’t keep me from getting a call from the boss…he bitched me out the next day for not collecting enough email addresses from my customers. You just can’t fuckin’ win!!!)

Aaaaaaaaaanyhoo, I was TOTALLY EXHAUSTED after that adventure, but had another photo shoot the very next day, with a genial Norwegian photographer from Trondheim, Norway…an ancient, frostbitten little burg north of the Arctic circle where I have actually been myself!!! (I went on a cruise up the Norwegian coastline once.)  So it was back out into the desert for me! My toe was still kinda bloody and crusty, but had mostly healed over until I foolishly BONKED it into an old pipe that was half-hidden in the sand. TRIPLE D’OH!!!!!! Nevertheless, we had a great time and he was a very nice man. In addition to the usual artistic nudes, he had me pose with a bottle of this Norwegian orange soda called “Solo,” and said he plans to post the photo on their Facebook page. LOL!

I got a small break the next day (well, I had a gynecologist’s appointment…if you wanna call THAT a break), but then Tuesday it was back out to the desert AGAIN, this time with a photographer I met at, of ALL places, the Red Rooster swingers’ club!!!! LOL!!!!! It just goes to show, you never know who you’ll meet anywhere you go!!! I was there back in May or June with my friend Phil Connors and another girl, and I remember as I was sitting by the porno mag racks, flipping thru Hustler, I struck up a conversation with a man who professed to be a photographer. At the time, I thought he was just some perv blowing smoke up my ass…but come to find out, he’s actually an accomplished photographer, and a very cool dude. We had a great conversation about the Sex Pistols and the early NYC punk scene, all while shooting fabulous art nudes out in the desert by Lake Mead. FANTASTIC!


Aside from kooky conceptual costumed stuff, art nudes are my favorites types of photos to shoot. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll shoot whatever pays my bills — “Playboy” style, fetish, cheesecake, whatever. But classical art nudes are my favorite. I like the funky, athletic poses and the chance to show off my fabulous muscle tone. I spend all that fuckin’ time in the gym…might as well show it off!


Now, speaking of photo shoots…you may remember me mentioning a month or so ago how I shot with a “revolutionary new product” that was “sure to take the foot fetish world by storm.” Well, I am pleased to announce that the inventor has FINALLY given me the okay to tell you what this fabulous product is! It’s a stripper shoe — you know, one of those 7-inch heels with the giant platform — that has a POCKET PUSSY embedded in the sole!!!!! Yes that’s right — now you can take your love of shoes to a whole new level, with your very own removable Fleshlight embedded in the sole of a sexxxy 7-inch platform heel. Even better, the pocket pussy VIBRATES…and the vibration speed is controlled by the wearer pressing her big toe on a hidden control button on the insole! F*A*B*U*L*O*U*S, no?!!!!! The shoe retails for a shockingly affordable $250, so if you like shoes, check it out: The inventor got the idea while hanging out in a San Antonio strip club one night, and noticed one of the strippers grinding her foot into some poor shlub’s crotch (at his request). After the guy left, the inventor asked the stripper what all that was about….and thus learned about shoe fetish, and then came up with the idea for the shoe (or so he says). Hah!!!! I *love* shit like that!!


Now, finally…I’ve been working so much lately I haven’t had much time to cultivate any wants or needs, but I DID fixate on something recently that is now at the top of my “Must-Have ” list: a pair of customized leather cowboy boots!!! I’m not really much of a cowboy boot wearer in my day-to-day life (they make my legs look stumpy and short), but an acquaintance of mine happens to be a custom bootmaker in Idaho, and he and his wife recently pitched me on the idea of making me a FABULOUS custom pair of WonderHussy cowboy boots!!!! His wife says she even drew up a design for me, on pink and white leather, with dice and showgirls and “WONDER HUSSY” hand-tooled in fabulous leather. O…M…G!!!!! I have never been seized with lust for a material object so much in my LIFE! I have never owned any article of clothing, shoes or purse that cost more than $100, so I feel really bad about wanting $900 boots… but what the fuck?! He normally charges even more! And I just LOVE the idea of stomping into the saloon at Gold Point, NV one fine day…clad in absolutely nothing but a bush and my Wonderhussy boots…sidling up to the bar, plopping my naked ass on a barstool, kicking my hand-tooled heels up on the bar and ordering a tall, frosty Apple Pie shooter from Walt the bartender. What do you say, pardner?!!!! Let’s do it!!!




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From OMG! to WTF?!

Thanks for my friend Adam Sternberg ( for helping me redesign my blog template…I figured it was time to jazz it up a little. I still have a LOT of work to do, but at least I finally got started.


Anyway, I’ll cut right to the chase — I did a lot o’ crazy stuff the last several days. SURPRISE!!!!


As usual, my paid gigs ran the gamut from “OMG!” to “WTF?!” On the milder side, I did a scavenger hunt for as Secret Agent Hotpants, over at the Bellagio. For this character, the script calls for me to dress sexy and post up at a bar for 2-3 hours, and when the teams of players find me, they have to kick me their best pick-up line to try and score my phone number. Depending on how lame their lines are, I give them a number that doubles as a score. In this particular game I actually got some pretty good ones — one guy reached back and fiddled with the tag on my shirt, which I thought must have been sticking out or something…but then he said, “Oh, I was just checking to see if you were Made in Heaven.” ACK!!! That was a top scorer.I got another clever one involving a packet of sugar, but I can’t remember what the line was, alas. Anyway, it was a fun game, and I always enjoy playing Secret Agent Hotpants…even though you run the risk of being confronted by security for being a hooker, since who else puts on a sexy outfit to sit alone at a hotel bar for 2-3 hours talking to strange dudes??


More towards the “WTF” end of the spectrum, I also went in to be fitted for an Ass Wrap. You know how they “wrap” cars with advertisements — basically a big sticker/wallpaper that covers the car with a corporate logo? Well, now they can do that with asses, too — just check out!  I went down to the shop where they print the wraps, and they printed me out a pair of panties, then fitted them to my ass specifically, thus creating a pattern that can be used to print out endless future pairs of panties just for me, bearing the corporate logos of whatever fine company wants to assvertise — Disney? Focus on the Family? Romney/Ryan 2012??! Come on, guys, don’t be shy — there’s plenty of room on my keister for ALL of your messages!


Delving deeper into the “WTF” arena, I did some REALLY weird fetish videos for a new studio I just started working for –I’m not even sure what it’s called, to be honest 😮 The first one involved me playing a scrawny, frumpy housewife trying to make dinner for my husband, who was about to get home from work. Problem was, I was SOOOO scrawny and weak, I couldn’t even open the can of beans I was trying to cook! I whined and moaned about how weak I was, and then “prayed to the kitchen gods” to make me stronger. Next thing you know, this Wonder Woman costume magically appears underneath my frumpy housewife clothes!! I tear off my outer layer to reveal that I am now a superheroine, with bulging muscles and super powers — and not a moment too soon, as at THAT VERY MOMENT a giant masked intruder breaks into my house, thinking to steal all my stuff!!! (In a bit of lamentable typecasting, the guy who was filming this enlisted the help of his roommate, a big black guy, who was good-natured enough to step in and play along.) I proceeded to “kick his ass,” then threw him out onto the street: “…and STAY out!!!”


Then after that, we did a clip where I put on a giant pair of fake boobs and a giant fake ass, underneath some huge, baggy clothes. I rambled on about how “I just LOOOOVE my big juicy ass and my big, juicy tits! Those skinny bitches at the office are just jealous of me — especially that one cow who put a ‘curse’ on me. Hah! They’re just jealous ’cause I’m such a gorgeous BBW,” etc. etc. etc. (these fetish videos require a LOT of ad-libbing; you actually do have to be somewhat of an actress to do these, haha).


Well, next thing you know, the “curse” takes effect — first my ass disappears, then my tits. Now I’m flat as a pancake on both sides!!! I cry and moan and attempt to eat a can of beans to maybe grow them back…but I just keep shrinking and shrinking until my clothes fall off, and I’m huddled there naked and tiny in a pile of fabric. LOL! I’m guessing there had to be some intensive post-production done on this one, because the special effects were pretty weak.



Then I did another shoot for, wherein I sat on and popped a bunch of balloons. It might sound like easy cash, but take a look at the welts I got on my inner thigh from doing this! OUCH!!! Thankfully, balloon-popping was only about 2/3 of the shoot — we also shot a tickling clip (I was tickled on my bed by a phantom tickler), and then a clip of me washing my hair in the shower (apparently hair-washing is a big fetish too). Whatever; I had to wash my hair anyway!!



So that was all the fetish stuff I did lately. Then one day, a Facebook friend messaged me about some French movie that was filming here in town, and needed a topless model for a minor role. I said I’d do it, and they told me to go downtown to the Beat coffee shop to “meet with the director.” I went down there, and what a clusterfuck!!!! First of all, I find that coffee shop a WEE bit on the pretentious side — I guess I do like it, but it tries so hard to be Portland-y that it can sometimes get on my nerves. Also, it’s a real BITCH to park at, and I didn’t have time to ride my bike, as I was having a really busy day. But the MAIN thing that pissed me off was that there was a line of 100 unemployed wannabe actors lined up to “meet the director” for this “French movie,” which turned out to be a music video, not even a movie. So I had to stand around and wait, which I didn’t really have time for! Not to sound like a diva — I understand the purpose of auditioning; I JUST DON’T BOTHER DOING IT — EVER!!! Why? Because out of the 100s of hours I’ve wasted auditioning for shit, I have VERY, VERY rarely ever been cast for anything. There are SO many other models /actresses in Vegas, with bigger tits and more ability, that I decided about 2 years ago not to even bother any more. It’s a total waste of my time! PLUS, while you’re waiting, you have to suffer the asinine company and conversation of all the other wannabe bozos in line — a fate worse than being buggered with a broken Coke bottle by Tim Tebow onstage at a Christian megachurch!!!!! ARRRRRRRGH!!!! ***NEVER**** ask me to audition for ANYTHING!!!!!!!


Anyhoo, I waited for about 10 minutes before crossing my name off the list and bailing the fuck out of there — I had SHIT to do, yo! (Interestingly, they didn’t even end up casting anyone that day…I saw them post a week later on Model Mayhem, still looking for someone. And it was NO FUCKIN’ WONDER, since I got a good look at the other people in line, and it was slim fuckin’ pickin’s!!! Maybe I should have stayed, after all…oh, well.)


As mentioned, I was in a real hurry that day — I had scheduled a fun photo shoot with my good friend Randy a/k/a Shutterbug-Studio, and I still needed to run around and collect a few items for the shoot. My friend Mat had given me this awesome pink Lady Elvis costume, so I wanted to try and find a blonde Elvis wig to go with it — so I could spray paint it pink! I also got a last-minute idea for a photo involving a watermelon, so I had to run around town looking for one of those, too — no easy feat at this time of year! Like I said — I was BUSY!!



I was able to find the watermelon (see below for the FABULOUS results), but alas, on the wig front all the costume stores in town came up dry. WTF!!! This is VEGAS, and a girl can’t find a blonde Elvis wig?!?!?! I guess I’ll have to order one online — but in the meantime, I ended up just sort of shaping my own massive hair into a pompadour, and spraying it pink. AND IT CAME OUT GREAT — don’t you think????!!! P.S. Yes that’s my trusty throne that I found at Burning Man, ha ha ha…I bet the asshole who left it laying on the playa is pretty bummed out right about now! I mean, just $10 of spray paint, and look how fabulous it is!!!


Anyhoos, the pics we shot that day are REALLY fabulous….but when I got home, I was inspired for an EVEN MORE FABULOUS shoot!! I won’t say what it is, but it’s gonna involve some intensive hair, makeup and prop-building — so watch out! I actually got inspired for about 5 or 6 new photos, which is great, because guess what??? Randy and I are collaborating on a FABULOUS BOOK OF OUR PHOTOS! Watch out; this is sure to take the art world by storm. We’ve been shooting together for about 4 years, on and off, and have amassed quite a collection of fantastic pix — so we’re going to publish the best of them in a sort of coffee table art book — photos by Randy, text by me! My idea is to write a short, witty

blurb about each photo — maybe about its origins, or something weird that happened during the shoot, etc. So you’ll get fantastic photos AS WELL AS scintillatingly witty writing! I will be sure to let everyone know when this book is ready — trust me, you’ll definitely want one!

I have long wanted to publish a book of my photos, but they are taken by so many different photographers that it would be a nightmare to get all the necessary permissions. The sad fucking truth is that, as a model, I do not own the copyright to ANY of my photos 🙁 Even the ones where it was MY concept, my hair/makeup/costuming, my location scouting, etc. — because the photographer clicked the shutter, he owns the image. I understand if it was a shoot for which the photographer PAID me…but this applies even if it was a Trade (i.e. unpaid) shoot! ARRRGH! I have so many awesome photos shot by so many awesome photographers, but it just isn’t feasible to get them all together in one book. But since I’ve shot the most with Randy, I decided to team up with him. I do have a lot of SUPER BAD ASS photos with Michael Maze, as well…so maybe I’ll team up with him on a second book 🙂 And another of my fave photographers, Barfing Rainbows, is also working on a book of his own in which some of my pics will appear…so look out for that!

So aside from all that, I also did a gig as a corporate mascot at a convention for convenience store owners. Picture a cavernous convention center, FILLED with displays of candy, chocolate, pizza, pretzels, beef jerky, CHEESE jerky (?!?!?!), potato chips, TastyKakes, cookies, deep fried taquitos, hot dogs….basically every NASTY-ASS “food” item that can be purchased at a convenience store (or, as they call them in the trade, “C-Stores…” LMFAO!). WORSE, all the vendors are offering free samples of everything! Luckily for me I was trapped inside a giant rabbit suit, and couldn’t do tooooo much damage…but I did get a few breaks, and I’m here to tell you it was ugly. I tried to eat a healthy breakfast before going over there, to try and fortify myself…but it was no use. Despite my better instincts — I work out and eat healthy — the smells of all that awful shit called to me. I swear, they add some kinda chemicals to that crap to make you crave it. D’OH!!!!!!! I ate SO. MUCH. CRAP. Fried mac-n-cheese wedges, tater tots, French toast stix, pizza, Slurpees, chocolate wine (!!! my new favorite thing!!!)…ugh, I want to puke just remembering it.



To get away from the temptation, on one of my breaks I went outside and sat there reading one of the trade journals they were passing out  — I always find it interesting to read these insider magazines, in this case to see what the fuck is going through the mind of someone who owns a C-store. It also happens to be election season, so a good bulk of this particular mag was devoted to stumping for Romney…but mostly AGAINST Obama. These c-store owners *DESPISE* Obama…mostly for Obamacare, which they say would force them to offer insurance to their employees, which they can’t afford!

OMG you poor souls…I understand you don’t turn a profit on gasoline, but how about the markups on that artery-clogging GARBAGE you’re pimping to your blue-collar patrons (and employees)?! Are you fucking serious?? If convenience stores only sold apples and pornography, you wouldn’t even NEED Obamacare — everyone would be hale and hearty! Arrgh! Seriously, I’m no nanny-stater…but “STUFFERS?” CHEESE JERKY??! This isn’t food, it’s tumors!!!  As mentioned, I am well-informed and try to eat well, but having that shit around is REALLY hard to resist. I’m not saying it should be illegal — everyone should be free to make their own bad choices — but it should be taxed to tell, so that the extra revenue can be used to PAY THE MEDICAL BILLS OF THE INDIGENT FOOLS WHO EAT THIS SHIT! Obesity is about to cost the U.S.A. **BILLIONS** of dollars in healthcare costs…and Dog knows the crooked fuckers in the insurance industry are salivating at the prospect. Wise up, America!


<—- (And if you didn’t believe me about the c-store industry being anti-Obama…check out THIS little bit of thinly-veiled racism. O………..M…………..G.)


 Now, I know a lot of Republicans “read” this blog (they’re the biggest fucking perverts of all, don’t you know??) and I’m sorry to kill your boner mid-jerk with all this political rhetoric, but seriously. How can you be all about letting people make their OWN decisions when it comes to worship, interpretation of science, and eating junk food….but at the same time be so VEHEMENTLY opposed to letting people make their own decisions when it comes to abortion, fucking people of the same sex, and eating/smoking drugs?? Abortion I can understand, because it can be argued that a life is being taken. But DRUGS?? HOMOSEXUALITY? How is that worse for the Nation than living off junk food and soda??? I smoke marijuana every single night of my life, and I GUARANTEE you the side effects are less than that of eating junk food and soda. So either shut the fuck up and let me smoke my weed legally, or else let us liberals make junk food a Schedule I drug. End of rant!

In other news, a fabulous local bar/bowling alley/nightclub called Drink & Drag just rolled out a new Lesbian Night on Wednesdays, called Dollhaus…and they have Drag King competitions every other week! I went out there last Wednesday as my male alter-ego, Johnny Areola, and had a grand old time groping the tits and asses of every woman in the house. I LOVE BEING A MAN! Seriously, it’s very liberating walking around without a fucking purse hanging off your shoulder — as Johnny Areola, I roll around with just my keys, money and ID tucked in my front pocket — easy peasy! No makeup to fuss with, no bullshit. Love it!

I met up with my friend Mistress Mizery, who was co-hostessing the event, and then I performed in the Drag King competition, which was just like a Drag Queen thing where they lip-sync Whitney Houston songs or whatever…only now it’s Drag KINGS lip-syncing manly-man songs, haha! I wanted to do George Michael’s “Faith,” but the DJ didn’t have it…so I settled for “YMCA” instead. The contest was judged by audience applause, and since none of my friends were there except Mistress Mizery, I came in 2nd place 🙁 Fuck that shit! I decided never to go again….but then the next Wednesday, Mistress Mizery texted me begging me to come down and perform! She said they would even pay me a small stipend this time, so I got back into my Man Suit and went back down there for another round.


This time it wasn’t a competition — just performances, and they finally had “Faith,” so I lip-synced that and made a few tips from the audience. Nice!!! I never did get paid for going down there, but I didn’t feel like waiting around all night so I kinda just bailed right after the performance, anyway. But before I left, the badass lesbian promoter who runs these events took me aside and told me she’s starting a Drag King Revue, and I can be in it!!! She’s going to cast five Drag Kings, then teach us choreographed routines and shit, just like the Backstreet Boys, LMFAO!!!!! How fucking fun is THAT going to be??? Watch out, Vegas!!!!



Now speaking of things to watch out for, I spent last Friday night hanging out with this local magician friend of mine, and he has a REALLY cool idea for an attraction:! Basically, it’s like one of those roadside attractions that charge you $1 to see the “Thing…” you know, the classic P.T. Barnum shtick!! I *LOVE* stuff like that! Well, I happen to have some inside info on this “Thing” my friend has acquired, and I’m here to tell you…IT IS FREAKY! I’m sure sure *quite* what the fuck it is, but it is BIZARRE! All he’ll say about it is that it was “Purportedly found on the Banks of Lake Mead, Very close to the Hoover Dam… Never Before Seen By The Public!… What is it?” So anyway, look out for that coming to a spot near you in the near future!!!

Anyway, my magician friend and I went to the Renaissance Faire for a couple hours, which was the same old, same old…and then we hit up the 10th Anniversary of the First Friday Arts Festival in downtown Vegas for a couple of hours, where I helped some friends of mine pass out flyers for the 3rd Annual Las Vegas Halloween Parade, a **FANTASTICALLY FUN** parade/party that will be held in downtown Vegas on Halloween night. Seriously people, if you have no plans for Oct. 31st (a Wednesday), be SURE to come to this party — it’s gonna be SICK! I went last year, and I had one of the best times of my LIFE (and that’s saying a LOT!). This parade grows every year, and will soon be on par with Mardi Gras or the Love Parade…I’m telling you, it is SICK. They roll out all these Burning Man art cars, which drive the parade route as floats, and there are fire spinners and stilt walkers and all kinds of amazing costumes (this is a city known for costumes; of COURSE we have the baddest ass costumes in the USA!). The parade will end at a block party just off Fremont Street, where the Dancetronauts will perform and all kinds of merriment will take place. If you’re not from here, Vegas usually has fantastic weather at that time of year, so what better place to spend the holiday than here?? COME ONE, COME ALL…SEE YOU THERE!!!

Incidentally, if you’re wondering about the random-ass photo I posted to the left…I just the other day discovered the “Other” folder in my Facebook messages. I didn’t realize that if someone sends you a message and they are not already your “friend,” it gets filed in this weird sub-folder and you never even know you got it!!! I went in there and it was like a time capsule — I had ALL KINDS of fan mail, party invites (including one to party with the real Dos Equiz Most Interesting Man in the World, supposedly) and other assorted offers (including one to shrink and eat some guy, haha)…all dating back as far as 2010!!! WTF, if you emailed me and I never answered you, I apologize — I just didn’t know this folder EXISTED! Fuck, one more thing to check every day, I guess…but meanwhile, someone had sent me the above photo, from a gig I did back in June as the Pool Diva at the Tropicana pool.


Now lastly, I also FINALLY got around to converting my guest bedroom in to a walk-in closet. Ever since I moved into this new house, I’ve been dissatisfied with the teeny-tiny 1943-era closets…so I finally just took the plunge and jettisoned my guest bed (on loan to my roommate) and put a futon in my office, for any visitors to sleep on. Then I turned the entire room into a sort of boudoir, with allllll my wigs, hats, shoes, costumes and makeup all in one place. NICE! I wanted one of those old-school Hollywood vanity mirrors, with the lights all around it, but I was trying to do this on the cheap, yo. So I got a $14 mirror at Savers, and strung an $8 string of giant white Christmas lights around it!! It works GREAT!!! Total cost of this project to date:

  • $100 vanity desk, purchased on craigslist
  • $90 futon, purchased on craigslist
  • $50 freestanding closet device, from (it arrived badly damaged, so they refunded me 50% of the $100 original price)
  • $14 mirror
  • $8 lights

total spent: $262. Not bad! I’m still not quite finished organizing it, but when it’s all done, I will post a video tour online, so you can see it for yourself! I also need to make a video of my playing my autoharp, which an awesome friend of mine finally tuned for me, and which sounds BEAUTIFUL! Any song requests??????