Month: <span>April 2013</span>

Wandering the Seven Seas of Puss

I was doing a photo shoot at the Tuscany Hotel the other afternoon, when the photographer asked me, “Say, would you mind trying something a little….kinky??”

Uh-oh!!!

If you’d had the kind of week I’d just had, it would have given you pause, too. I mean, I have a pretty high tolerance for/interest in some fairly weird stuff…but some of my misadventures lately have been a bit rich, even for my blood!

It all started when an old acquaintance called me the other week, out of the blue. This is someone I’ve known for over ten years, but haven’t talked to since around 2010 — a 60-ish lounge singer/ladies’ man/aspiring photographer/gym rat I used to hang with way back in the day. Well, in the time since we’d last talked, “Dino” (not his real name) had gotten into the fringes of the porn industry. While singing at a corporate party, he met the president of some porn production company, and somehow ended up as their Vegas talent procurer.

Say what you will about this guy — he has an uncanny knack with the ladies, and he managed to scout a few astonishingly good-looking girls around town: one at the gym, one at Roberto’s taco stand, etc. Somehow, he was able to talk these everyday chicks into performing in porn movies…and now, every weekend he loads four at a time into his SUV and drives them all down to L.A. for shoots. Dino is basically a glorified babysitter — he drives them to the shoots, makes sure they’re not fucked up, makes sure they’re hair- and makeup-ready, and even directs them during the shoot (since the girls are comfortable with him, they allow Dino to direct a little, in the name of making things easier). He tries to book multiple shoots for the weekend, to make it worth everyone’s time, and the production companies pay him for his services, as well as taking care of his and his girls’ room and meals while in L.A. It’s a great gig!

Well, whenever he finds a new girl in Vegas, he shoots a little promo video of her, to show his bosses in L.A. He was using a male actor in some of the clips, but the guy flaked on him one too many times, so now Dino started standing in, instead. He films himself from the neck down only, so as to preserve his identity, and basically holds the camera with one hand while the girl gives him a blow job. When he showed the first clip to his bosses, and confided in them that it was his penis in the shot, they got all excited. Apparently, he has an exceptionally photogenic dick — they said it has a “silky” look to it, and they encouraged him to shoot more content of himself.

So now Dino needs someone to do the filming, because he can’t keep holding the camera out at an awkward angle — he wants to get creative, and shoot some fetish-type stuff…and he needs both hands for that. Remembering what an open-minded kind of person I am, he called me up out of the blue, to ask if I’d be interested in working for him, shooting footage of him and his girls. Why me? Well, aside from my being open-minded, he also knows that I won’t judge him, make fun of him, or reveal his identity — basically, he trusts me. Awwwww!

So I agreed to come over to his house for a (paid) introductory session, during which he showed me all the photos and videos he’d taken thus far. I was astonished at how beautiful this one chick in particular was — you know how porn chicks are usually pretty gnarly and hardened looking? Well, this girl is the classic “girl-next-door.” A very marketable look! And there she was, sucking Dino’s “silky” dick on camera. Wow!!

I accepted the job, so in the near future I guess I will become a pornographess. Yay!! I’ve been wanting to get on the other side of the camera, anyway — this should be an interesting way to get in on the action. The only bummer is, he asked me what I’d want to be paid, and I had no idea what to charge for my videography skills: “Uhhhh…I don’t know; $25/hour?” He accepted my bid right away, so I get the feeling I should have asked for WAY more…but what the hell do I know?? D’OH!!!! I’m a terrible businesswoman.

So while all of that was going on, I was still going about my business, doing all the other strange gigs that come my way. Most of my work was photo shoots — I’ve been doing a lot of them lately, both out in the desert and in various hotel rooms around town. I often tell people “I’ve been in more hotel rooms than a prostitute!” and it’s true. Most photographers I shoot with are business professionals in town for one trade show or another, and photography is just a hobby for them. To blow off steam after a long day at the convention center, they set up a shoot or two at their hotel rooms after hours. There’s not usually anything weird about it — hotel rooms make pretty good studios if you bring a few lights with you, and the furniture and decor is generally fairly nice. Plus, as a model I feel a bit safer at a hotel/casino, what with all the security around…as opposed to shooting way out in the desert, ya know?

Usually, like I said, the photographer is some fusty old corporate-type — which is fine with me; I don’t judge! But a couple weeks ago, I showed up for a shoot at Ballys (of all places, LOL)…and the photographer turned out to be a super hot rocker-type dude from a band I think I might have actually heard of! I can’t give many details, as his wife is extremely jealous, and supposedly would have a shit fit if she knew he was shooting a model. I mean, she knows he has a photography business on the side…but according to him, if she knew he was paying a model, she’d freak. So he asked me not to even credit the photos he’d taken of me!! A shame…because they are really good photos (all the ones in this post credited to “Anonymous” are by him)!

What’s ironic about all this is, the main reason they are going through such tough times in their relationship right now, is she cheated on him! I truly wish I could give you all the bizarre details, because they are worthy of a movie (or at least an episode of Jerry Springer), but I promised I wouldn’t write anything too detailed about him. Arrrgh! But suffice it to say, I spent a good half of the shoot acting as therapist for him, while he poured out all his troubles and marital woes to me. (Little known fact: I am a great listener.)

Anyway, that was a fantastic shoot, as were most of the others I’ve done lately. One day I went over to the always-glamorous Palace Station hotel for a shoot with these Canadian pornographers, who run some kinda website featuring girls stripping and talking about themselves. It was pretty basic stuff — pose for cutesy pics, then prance around for short video clips of the same. The interview part was much more fun — I ended up singing the “Ode to Joy” from Beethoven’s 9th Symphony (they had asked me what my favorite song was) while sucking on a lollipop they had given me as a prop. Whatever!!

Another day, I got up and ready by the insanely early hour of 9:30am for a shoot out at the Clark County Heritage Museum — an outdoor collection of rusty old mining equipment and old houses down on Boulder Highway, in Hendertucky. The photographer had me come out there early so as to avoid “crowds.” Crowds?! Who the fuck even knows about the Clark County Heritage Museum??! And even if you know about it…who the fuck goes out there on a windy, chilly Wednesday?

Apparently, every asshole and his Aunt Mae, that’s who! That fucking museum was slammed, even at 9:30am — retirees, travelers and busloads of excitable schoolchildren running around on field trips!!! It was awkward as hell — here I am, trying to pose in my cheesy “sexy pin-up” outfits on tractors and cabooses and whatnot, while hordes of snickering schoolkiddies look on. Awkward!!!!! To make matters worse, it was really windy that day — my false eyelashes kept blowing loose, and I was wearing this cheesy blue dress I got once from a Bud Light promo gig, which has a slit right up the middle. I almost flashed those poor, innocent schoolkids a time or two! A very trying shoot.

But if I thought that was trying, boy was I ever in for a surprise. I got booked for another shoot over at Harrah’s one night that turned out to be the perviest thing I’ve ever witnessed! It started out as usual: the photographer asked me to bring lingerie and cute little outfits, which I could strip out of as he blasted away with his state-of-the-art prosumer equipment. He was a nice enough guy — maybe a little sweaty-palmed/nervous, but we had a decent rapport going as we shot, chatting about this and that. I mentioned that I did a lot of fetish modeling, and what a coincidence, he happened to shoot fetish videos, too!

According to him, he had a gig shooting fetish clips for the private collection of an attorney in his hometown — this guy would pay him to shoot videos of guys jerking off, while models sat on the sofa nearby watching. No contact, no sexual behavior on the part of the model, nothing untoward — just sit on the sofa and watch the guy jerk off. “Would you be interested? It only takes 15 minutes, and pays $100.”

“Yeah, sure, if I’m ever in San Antonio I’ll let ya know.” I wasn’t really interested; I was just being polite. But then he goes, “Oh no, we could do one right here, at the end of our shoot!” Apparently, just like my friend Dino, he had been using male models off Craigslist to do the jerking off…but one too many had flaked on him, so now he just set his camera on a tripod, and filmed himself jerking it, from the neck down so as to preserve his identity. Hmmm.

“Weeeelll….OK,” I said. I mean, all I had to do was sit on the sofa, right? How bad could it be????

So now he was all excited, and finished up the rest of our shoot in record time — the two hour shoot only took 59 minutes, LOL. Then he sets up the camera on a tripod, and tells me what I have to do. And it’s not just sitting on the couch!!! Now it turns out I have to walk back and forth, then take off my clothes, kneel next to him, and then go sit on the sofa.

“Whaaaaat? No way, man! I am not kneeling naked next to you while you jerk off!! That sounds like prostitution to me — how do I know you’re not vice??!” We haggled back and forth, and to his credit he gave me plenty of opportunity to back out. But finally we agreed on a scenario where I would just sit on the sofa naked while he jerked off about 10 feet away. Still gross….but whatever.

If anyone ever sees this video, you will die laughing (or crying)…I must look soooo uncomfortable. I sat there staring at the camera while he whipped out his turkey-neck-looking dick and went to town. While he did his thing, I pondered the intricacies of prostitution laws: was this considered prostitution? Or did the fact that he was filming it somehow protect it as mere pornography? I am endlessly fascinated by what exactly constitutes prostitution — I feel like the laws are total bullshit. You can fuck a guy for free, or in exchange for a car…but if he gives you cash, you’re a prostitute. Huh?? Meanwhile, you can pay a girl cash to have sex on camera, and it’s totally legal — as long as someone is filming it. If you ask me, these laws are seriously fucked up and a total waste of time.

Anyhoo, after about 30 sec of ruminating, he shot his wad, washed his hands, and paid me. The 2-hour shoot he’d hired me for was over with in 75 minutes, and I had a $100 bonus to show for it. I felt kinda dirty, but what are ya gonna do? Now that I think about it, I bet there was no “attorney” paying him to shoot these “fetish videos;” I bet it was just a ruse, to get me to watch him jerk off. WHATEVER! Coming as it did on the heels of my thing with Dino, I had found it semi-believable…so please don’t laugh at me too hard!

Soooooo, after all that weirdness, you can see why I bristled when this guy at the Tuscany asked me if I minded doing something “kinky.” But all it turned out to be was, he wanted me to lay on the bed naked while he placed little plastic frogs, race cars and a dinosaur all over my body. LOL! You call that kinky, Mister????! It was a breeze — especially because the guy was a total professional about the shoot, and actually used a light meter and stuff, and gave me actual direction in my posing. And he finished shooting 30 minutes early — always a plus. Kudos to you, Mr. Legit Photographer! May there be many more of you in my future.

So that was all my photo shoots lately, but I did plenty of other borderline-skeezy gigs too — it was just that kind of week. Was it something in the air??? Ugh! First, I had a date with a guy from WhatsYourPrice.com, who had hired me to keep him company at the pool, at the hotel where he was staying. I showed up around 1pm and he was a nice enough, good-looking guy from Florida…but he was a total alkie!! He kept telling me I wasn’t drinking enough, but jeez! I didn’t want to get wasted in the afternoon, for Pete’s sake. As it was I had three Captain Morgan & Cokes…but even that didn’t satisfy him, as he was basically chain-chugging scotches.

We had a pleasant enough conversation for the first hour or so, but then he got drunker and drunker, and pretty annoying. The weather was kinda shitty, too — really windy and on the chilly side — so after a couple hours, we packed it in. He invited me up to his room, where he had bought me a bottle of Captain Morgan, and I think he basically expected me to fall into bed. But to his immense drunken dismay, I just mixed a drink and stood by the door until he followed me back downstairs. HELLO??! Here is what it says on my WhatsYourPrice profile, VERBATIM:

Continue reading Wandering the Seven Seas of Puss

What It’s Like to be on Jeopardy!

I was just reading an article about Ken Jennings, the über-nerd who had the all-time winningest streak on the TV game show Jeopardy! It seems that brainy fucker has successfully turned being a TV nerd into a career — WTF!! Why didn’t *I* think of that?!

Well, actually, I did. Back in 2004, I decided that I should go on Jeopardy! myself, to prove to the world how smart I was/am. In those days, no one knew me as anything more than an alcoholic bimbo…so I had a lot to prove.

Anyhoo, I passed all the tests and made it onto the show just fine….but UNFORTUNATELY, as luck would have it, my appearance coincided with the run of….wait for it…. none other than Ken Motherfucking Jennings! ARRRGH!! Talk about having the deck stacked against you. I think he was on his 14th show or something like that when they pitted my pathetic ass against him. Ugh!!

Rather that go through all that nonsense again, I’m just going to repost some excerpts from my old blog that I had back then…in which I documented the whole miserable process. If you’ve ever been curious about what it’s like to be on Jeopardy!, or if you’ve ever been curious what it’s like when an alkie bimbo from Vegas goes on Jeopardy!…you just might find it interesting. ENJOY!!!

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2-20-04

Everybody, you know how I’ve been saying for a long time how I want to try and get on Jeopardy! to win some money? Well, the only problem was that I never got my lazy ass around to going out to Burbank for an audition. But thank God the other day their crew came into Vegas for some local tryouts, and I was able to go over and take the test to see if I have what it takes!!!! Now this was a really big deal, because I had to get my ass out of bed at 8am to schlep over to the first audition, where the first 1,000 people in line got to take a 10-question pre-test, just to winnow out the chaff from the good stuff and see who was qualified to take the actual audition test.

What a bunch of freaks! You never saw such a bunch of Vegas morons, and yes, I was the biggest one of all! Actually, I was secretly stoked because for once in my life, I was the cutest, youngest person in the room. Yahoo! The rest of the crowd was nerdy shlumps and wannabes, so I really felt good about myself and my prospects. Especially when the TV channel started filming, and this lady from the newspaper interviewed me as to why I wanted to try out for Jeopardy!: “I want to prove to the world that I’m not a bimbo.” And that’s the sad truth! I figure that in today’s TV-opiated world, the best way to show all the schmucks and a**holes I know that I have a brain is by going on Jeopardy! That explains to them, in a language they can understand, that I’m a real smart cookie.

So I took the pre-test, and it was pretty tough! Only about 100 people passed, and thank Christ I was one of ‘em. Just to give you an idea, here are the questions they asked on the pre-test (not even the real test, mind you):

The star Betelgeuse is located in this hunter’s constellation
This 19th-century President’s middle name was Birchard
This Francis Ford Coppola film was based on Joseph Conrad’s The Heart of Darkness
This author wrote about the character Sam Spade
Bill Clinton was a Rhodes Scholar at this university
Celery, apples and walnuts are tossed with mayonnaise in this salad
Mike Meyers starred in this “un-fairy-tale”
Spider-Man’s alter ego
Santiago is the capital of this country.
I forgot #10. But those are tough questions, don’t you think?!!!!!!!

So then the next day I had to go take the real test, over at this one off-Strip casino, and I had to get up at 8am AGAIN! But now I was ready. See, right after I passed the test the day before, I had gone over to the library right away to bone up on my two weak areas, Shakespeare and Greek Mythology. Actually I have many weak areas, but those 2 are the ones they always seem to ask you about on the show (and happen to be 2 things that I find INSUFFERABLY BORING!!!!!!). Meanwhile, I studied all the State Capitals and State Nicknames, and then right before I took the test I ate a Balance bar to get my brain flowing. So I was ready to rock, and thank God I passed the test again! And this time it was REALLY hard! They asked us not to reveal what questions were asked, so I won’t tell you those details here, but suffice it to say they ranged from topics as diverse as Destiny’s Child to that motherf*cker himself, Shakespeare (my studying didn’t help me there, unfortunately).

But what was really amazing and worth getting up at 8am for was that they had told us to come dressed as we would for the actual show, so you can imagine what all the freaks and geeks were wearing. Tweed! Sweaters! Crummy suits and ties!!!!! Not me, though. I was cool as a cucumber in my plaid micro-miniskirt and my favorite go-go boots… plus I made sure to stick on my lucky decorative Bindi jewels (I’m back with the Bindis, and I’ve been getting a lot of compliments on them!). So not only did I blow ‘em away with my amazing range of knowledge, but I also stood out from the crowd. You could tell everyone thought I was a real bim with no chance in hell, but guess what, suckaz?

About 20 people ended up passing, so then we all had to take part in a practice game where we had to buzz in and answer in the form of a question and all that stuff. After that we had to do the little interview bit, just so they could discern who was interesting and comfortable in front of an audience. Hey, if that’s not me, then I don’t know who it is!

After that they just threw our applications in a big bag and said “We’ll call you when we need you.” They might never call, or they might not call for months. Or they might call tomorrow! That’s the magic of Jeopardy! You just never know. Meanwhile, I’m speed-reading Hamlet and Lysistrata. UGHHHHHHHHHH! I knew I should have paid better attention when I was at the palace of Knossos this past summer. Oh, well!

Actually, to be fair, it wasn’t all nerdy old men in sweaters and tweed who passed the audition – they only made up about 90%. There were also a few fat younger chicks, including this one in fishnet tights. She was pretty cool, I’ll admit. Then there was this one really canny Asian b*tch, who I’ll have to watch out for. Actually, I have to watch out, period – there are a lot of smart motherf*ckers out there, even in Vegas! I was shocked, but it’s really true. Hopefully, if I get picked to be on the show, it’ll be up against two dumbasses – but I don’t know how likely that is, considering that there were 20 really smart people even in friggin’ VEGAS! Actually, I don’t even expect to win at all. I know I’ll freeze up or get a bunch of whack physics questions or something, but hey – even the third-place “winner” walks with a cool $1,000. Not a bad price for your dignity! Besides, I’m not telling ANYONE – ANYONE! – when I get called to go on. I’ll just wait to see how well I do. If I bail, you’ll never need to know when the episode airs. On the other hand, if I do okay, I’ll let you all know right here when to watch.

The other amazing thing about all this was, I was stone-cold sober the entire time. Yikes! But hey, it was early morning, and I’m not quite that big an alkie yet. I wanted to sneak out while they were grading our tests and knock back a Bloody Mary or two, but I was like, “No, Sarah Jane! Prove to them that YOU CAN DO IT sober!” So I did it, and it sucked. You can bet your sweet bippy that if I get called out to LA for a real show, my flask is coming with me.

2-27-04

Hey everyone, you know how I successfully auditioned for Jeopardy! last week, but didn’t get my hopes up because they told me it might be months before they called me – IF they even called me at all?? Well, guess what? Those motherf*ckers barely waited for the weekend to be over before calling my slumbering ass first thing Monday morning! I have to go out there NEXT WEDNESDAY and be on the show!!!

Listen, I am really freaking out about this. Remember how shocked I was to see how smart the other people trying out at the audition were? Well, my plan was to use the intervening months before I appeared on the show to STUDY, STUDY, STUDY – classical mythology, Shakespeare, Oscar winners, world capitals, etc. etc. etc. Now it turns out I have less than ONE WEEK to cram all that bullsh*t into my head! It’s not going to happen, I fear… so I’ve abandoned that plan in favor of a new strategy: to NOT THINK ABOUT IT at ALL, then show up with a buzz on and hope all goes well. So far it’s working!

Seriously, I watched an episode of the show on TV the other night just to see what was going on, and I almost sh*t bricks. Maybe it was just the categories they had on that night, but I didn’t know ANYTHING! That’s the problem with Jeopardy!… it’s all the luck of the draw. If they end up having categories you know about, you’re in. If not… you end up looking like an ass and a bimbo in front of millions of people! I sincerely hope that doesn’t happen, but just in case… when the contestant coordinator asked me how many audience members I would be bringing, I said, “ZERO! I’m not letting anyone see me go down!!!”

Now hopefully I won’t “go down” at all. I don’t expect to win, but so long as I end up in 2nd place, or at least in the black, I’ll be OK. Like I said before, 3rd place walks with $1,000, so I figure it’ll be worth it – although when you think about it, after the g.d. government gets its share, I’ll be left with just enough to cover the cost of booze to sustain me through the whole ordeal. So I’ll be lucky to break even!

Meanwhile, like I said my strategy has been to not think about it at all, so that’s just what I’ve been doing….

3-5-04

Well, I know everyone’s just dying to know what happened to me when I appeared on a certain well-known game show the other day, so I’ll just let you know right up front: I LOST, just like I predicted!!! But the manner in which my loss went down is very amusing and interesting, so I’ll tell you all about it. Meanwhile, everyone get out your Weird Al Yankovic CDs: “I lost on Jeopardy, baby!” That motherf*ckin’ song has been stuck in my head ever since it happened!

As you know, I had very little time to study for the show, being as I had only passed the test to get on there a week ago. So my stated strategy was to just not think about it and then show up with a buzz on! Well, that didn’t work out too good. I flew out there on Tuesday night and started boozing as soon as the plane left the runway. My good friend DJ Spot picked me up and was good enough to ply me with a constant supply of extremely potent white Russians all night long as we rolled around Hollywood, picking up last-minute supplies for the Dick-n-Jayne [a sort of fake-band I used to be in…see video at the end of this paragraph] photo shoot which was to follow my appearance on the game show. Like for instance, we had to go to this one stripper store on Hollywood Blvd. to get a custom-made black vinyl bikini top in the smallest legal size, and Spot was cool enough not to mind that I wore it around the rest of the night over my pink sweater. I was trying to start a trend, so watch out for any stars or fashionistas wearing bikinis over sweaters in the near future! Anyhoo, after that we went over to the venerable Rainbow bar & grill, this old-time heavy metal hangout on the Sunset Strip where all the heavy metal stars used to hang out, but the only personages of note in there that night were David Spade and Slash, the guitarist for Guns ‘N’ Roses, both of whom I’ve already encountered in the course of my wanderings – Slash at the Sally Dingdong show, of all places, and David S. at the Rainbow on a different night. So that wasn’t too exciting… but let me tell you, they make their drinks with an extra kick out there. I’m used to these sh*tty Vegas cocktails, where everything is run by the casino and shot out of a gun, so having a real Cali-style cocktail was a special treat. I got nice and toasted, and forgot all my apprehensions about the next day. I was able to pass right out around midnight, in plenty of time to get up at 4:30 am (that’s normally my bedtime! No wonder I lost on the f*ckin’ show).

I'll take Potent Potables for $3, Alex — I’ll take Potent Potables for $3, Alex

Well anyhoo, I got all dolled up and ready to go, and here’s where Spot really had my back. Not only did he drive me all the way down to the studio (a long way from his house), but he devised an ingenious plan for me to sneak some Potent Potables onto the lot. I was afraid to bring my flask, because one time I went on the Warner Bros. lot and they searched **everything,** so what Spot came up with was getting some of those bottled Starbucks drinks from the supermarket, pouring out the coffee, and then re-filling the bottles with a Starbucks-colored mix of Kahlua, vodka and milk! In other words, a very strong white Russian. He even packed me up a fake decoy lunch, with a sandwich and stuff in a paper bag, just so the drinks would blend in. The only problem was, after all the previous nights’ white Russians, I hardly felt like drinking again already!!! So I just chilled out until I finally felt ready (around 9am!) to get the party started.

By then I was already up to my ass in official Jeopardy business like filling out forms, going over my amusing anecdotes for the chat portion, and sizing up the competition, which was really freaking me out! Now I don’t want to give too much away, but the returning champion from the last game was this unbelievable robo-Mormon dude from Utah who was on an unprecedented winning streak of many, many games. They used to have a 5-game limit, but now you just keep playing till you lose, and there was no end in sight for this guy. Believe me, everyone in the room crapped their pants when they heard the news. That’s where my “Starbucks” came in handy… since he was a Mormon, I figured he didn’t drink. Advantage: Sarah Jane! Actually, I didn’t know for sure he was a Mormon, but he was from Utah, he was blonde, and he looked like every single member of my friend Turquoise’s family [Turquoise was my Jack Mormon BFF back then]. But it turns out I was right. I figure that the reason he kept winning was that God was on his side – being as He is going to get 10% of his winnings (due to the tithe Mormons give to the Church). Of course He saw to it that Robo-man won!

The rest of the contestant pool was made up of all manner of squares, except this one freaky bald dude who is in a Bollywood cover band. That’s not to say they weren’t all nice people, but still. I really stood out like a sore thumb, which you may or may not see for yourself some day. I was wearing this hot pink tight-fitting sweater, a pink micro-mini schoolgirl skirt, and some go-go boots. The hot pink really contrasted nicely with the blue background of the set, let me tell you… especially since both my opponents were wearing this boring crummy khaki color. The makeup guy made me take off all my glitter, though. I tried to get him to at least paint on some fake cleavage, to distract and pysch out my opposition… but then I remembered that we were talking about an extremely single-minded Mormon, so what would be the point?!? Anyhoo, even though I totally sucked on the show, all the people on the set were like, “That’s OK! You did great… and you looked adorable!” Big f*ckin’ deal! Anyone can look adorable. I wanted to prove that I was smart!! Unfortunately, though, I did just the opposite. That Robot man was so motherf*ckin’ quick on the buzzer that I barely managed to get in 5 or 6 answers the whole entire game! In fact, he made both me and the other lady contestant look like ding-a-lings, which I really felt bad about. It seems like men always win on those shows, and I wanted to reprazent for my girlz. Oh well!

Now by the way, before you go blaming my loss on my “Starbucks” drinks, listen up, squares. You know I never drink to the point where I lose control… I am a Lady Alcoholist, as you no doubt remember, and alcohol is my friend… not my saboteur.

Besides that, the way it works is they tape 5 shows a day, and I had to sit through 2 other shows being taped before they got to me. By then my buzz was gone, and I was miserably, bone-chillingly sober. Yuck!

So anyhoo, after sitting around the studio watching this robo-Mormon tear everybody apart, it was my turn to get up there and lose. They kept on telling us, “Come on, guys… remember, ‘Everyone is beatable!’” But come on. This guy was not only really smart (I guess he used to write questions for some quiz kids-type thing) but he had many previous shows’ worth of experience on that f*ckin’ buzzer! Even when I knew the correct answer, that f*cker beat me to it 99% of the time. Oh well! Actually, I should have known it was going to be bad from the start. I spazzed out while writing my name on the screen like they do, so I looked like a freak from the get-go! Then we had to record these hokey messages to be played on our local affiliate stations at the time of our show’s airing. Basically it was supposed to be a shout-out to your hometown, so I freaked everyone out with a wigger-esque “Wazzup, Vegas!” and really sealed my fate.

But anyway, I’m not telling anyone here what the airdate of the show is until a later date – if EVER! You see, I feel it mis-represents me. I ended up looking like a total bim who only got on because of my wackiness. As an example, during the first segment of the show, EVERY SINGLE question was answered (correctly) by the Mormon. The other lady and I weren’t able to buzz in ONCE! Now to be honest, my timing wasn’t the only reason I didn’t get in – I also didn’t know many of the answers. They all happened to be about sh*t I don’t know. But I didn’t want to look stupid, so I kept on pretending to buzz in and get all “frustrated” when he beat me to it. Just a little insider info for you!

Well, during the commercial break the contestant coordinators came out to advise us on how to buzz in faster and stuff, so we were better prepared for the second segment. But first came the dreaded “chat” with the contestants… you know what I’m talking about. Where the host comes out like, “So, Cletus, I understand a hippopotamus was your wet nurse. That must have been quite an adventure!” Well, I wasn’t really freaking out about that, because if there’s one thing I can handle, it’s chit-chat with strange old men. But the host of the show (you know who… actually, he seemed like a very classy guy) seemed like he was really freaked out by me! I must admit I was pretty nervous, so I acted even weirder than normal, but still… come on. We chit-chatted about my hobby of sneaking into hotel pools, and then he moved right along to the normal contestants. Whew!

As I mentioned, me and the other lady got a few wussy jabs in on the second round, but by Final J.Party it was all over. Guess who was $20,000 ahead going into the final question???? There was no hope, so I wagered it all on “Famous Americans…” and got the motherf*ckin’ question wrong!!!! To make matters worse, the other lady got it right, which really made me look like a bim. But then, thank God, the robo-Mormon’s answer was the same as mine, so we went down together, at least. But incidentally, I have only read about 10 books on the “famous Americans” in question, so I really should have known the answer. But believe me, it’s hard to think when that corny music is playing!!!

Well, after we all shook hands with the host and stood around “chatting” over the credits, it was all over and I grabbed my $1000 and booked the hell out of there!!! But not before this one kid who works for the show tried to pick up on me via a message sent through one of his co-workers. I gave him the address of this website, just so he realizes what a freak I am. Hey, I just thought he should know what’s what, before he gets any ideas!

Now actually, I was supposed to hang around the set all day watching all the games and enjoying lunch in the studio cafeteria, because DJ Spot had a lot of errands to run and was pretty busy. But it’s a cold world, let me tell you – they booted my sorry ass off the lot as soon as I lost. They wouldn’t even let me go to lunch at the cafeteria! How glamorous would that have been, to eat sliced tomatoes in a cafeteria on a movie studio lot????? But instead, I had to schlep my “goody” bag of promotional items down the street to Starbucks, where I had a real coffee drink and then finished up my other fake one for good measure. Meanwhile, I was shouting and hollering on my cell phone about “@#$%^&!! Jeopardy!” and “@#$%^&! Mormons!!!” I was so loud that one of the baristas was like, “Hey, could you possibly be any louder?!” He said they get people in there all the time who have lost on that show, but they’re usually all quiet about it. Not me, though.

Well anyhoo, I didn’t have much time to worry over my embarrassing loss, because DJ Spot arrived within moments to get me for our big Dick-n-Jayne photo shoot, which we held in this horribly seedy, dumpy motel room down the street from his house. It was one of those motels where crank cookers live, just to give you an idea. We dirtied the place up even more with some porn I had picked up on the Strip in Vegas, plus a few other well-placed items like cigarettes and booze bottles, not to mention this freaky scented fog juice Spot had bought for his new fog machine. I didn’t even know they made scented fog juice (that is the correct industry term for it, by the way), but it turns out you can get Strawberry, Vanilla or Tropical, which helped mask the odor of the room somewhat. Then while we were waiting for the photographer to arrive, we went across the street to this diner to get some dinner. While we were grubbing, interestingly, Jeopardy happened to be on TV in the restaurant, and I saw how f*cked up the morning’s situation really had been. See, on the show they were broadcasting that night, it was 3 average nerds of above-average intelligence. They all buzzed in, they all got stuff right and wrong, and they all had between $6,000-$15,000. If I had been playing on that show, I would have done much better! Plus, they had questions about stuff like Tom Jones. Give me a break! It was all luck, I tell you.

The late, great Dick-n-Jayne (and DJ Spot)

So anyway, after dinner we went back to our motel room and I got made up in my rock-n-roll biker-hussy outfit. Dick went with a charming old-time rockabilly getup, with mirrored aviator shades, and DJ Spot slipped into his dog costume. We goofed around with several poses, playing with some old chewed-up Barbies Spot had picked up at a thrift store, and I have a feeling the photos are going to come out fabulously! I’ll let you know if I’m able to post any on this website, so keep your eyes open for that. Anyhoo, after that the busy day at last drew to an end, with Spot and me relaxing in front of some Rammstein videos on the TV. After that I passed out, woke up at 8am, and flew back to Vegas.

********************************************************************************

Well, there you have it. That was NINE YEARS AGO…and you can see, I really haven’t matured much at all :-/ I’m still a beglittered miniskirted alkie skeez slumming around Vegas…and meanwhile, that fucker Ken Jennings is living large off his winnings. D’OH!!! Oh, well….at least it makes a good story to tell!

Next time I’ll have to tell you all about the time I was on American Idol. Now that was a laff riot! And then some day I’ll tell you about when I went on “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” which was also gooooooood times. Not to come off like Forrest fuckin’ Gump here, but….I really have done all these things, and more!!!!!!!

I Need This

If you really wanna see me piss on a Swiss mook... — If you really wanna see me piss on a Swiss Mook…

People are always reading my blogs and status updates and going, “Where’s the VIDEO??”

Well, good new for those who really wanna see me fake-pissing on a Swiss mook, or infiltrating a swingers’ party, or dancing around naked in a hot springs cave while shrooming out of my mind. I added this GoPro camera to my Amazon Wishlist…so if any of you fuckers are feeling generous, check it out!

Imagine the possibilities………..

😀

Another Visit to the Heart Attack Grill

Click Here For More Photos From the Heart Attack Grill! — More Photos From the Heart Attack Grill!

I rode my bike downtown this morning, to visit a muckraking journalist friend who covers Downtown Vegas for one of the local papers. On the way back, I stopped in at one of my faaaavorite places — the Heart Attack Grill! The owner, Dr. Jon, is a good friend…but I hadn’t visited in quite a while, and was ASTONISHED at all the AMAZING new artwork this fucker had put up. It’s a RIOT — click the photo to see my Facebook album!

Pissing on a Mook

Finally, the weather is nice enough to get back to the business of running around the desert naked! I’ve been doing quite a few photo shoots lately, and I’m here to tell you: if you’ve never shot a model out in the wilderness around Vegas, you don’t know what you’re missing!! I dragged more than one poor old man around the desert over the past week or two, and guess what? They LOVED it!

I gave one guy the Deluxe Wonderhussy Tour: picked him up at the airport, drove him out to the dry lakebed, then stopped off at two other scenic locations before heading out to some red sandstone caves for sunset pics. Then we headed back into town for MORE shooting in his hotel room! It was something like a 10-hour day, and by the end of it I was exhausted…and then had to go to the nightclub afterward and dance til 3am!!!!!

The worst part of it was, I almost ran out of gas because of all that driving around! There is NO gas or cell phone service in many parts of the desert around Vegas, so on the way back from the sandstone caves, my gas light came on and I pretty much had to coast back into town on fumes. YIKES! Thankfully, I barely made it, coasting down the pass from Lake Mead into east Las Vegas and turning in at the first gas station I saw. Phew! No wonder I was so exhausted!!

Because of all that craziness, I got sick AGAIN :-/ I’ve been sick so often lately that I finally rallied my shitty insurance and went to see a doctor for some antibiotics, hoping that a Z-Pak would kill whatever’s ailing me, once and for all. I have a lot of summer adventures coming up, and I need to be in tip-top health!

The thing that really put me over the edge into illness was, I had scheduled another hike with the guy who hired me from WhatsYourPrice.com. As mentioned in my last blog, he didn’t want to pay me a second time because he only likes to pay for novel experiences… but he offered to pay one of my girlfriends, if I could convince one of them to come along.

My friend Trixie agreed to do it, so we all met up out at Red Rock and enjoyed a medium-intensity 2-hour hike…but because I already wasn’t feeling very well, that hike kicked my ass!!! I was really dragging toward the end of it, and I’m afraid I wasn’t very good company. But Trixie is a great conversationalist, so I think the guy was happy! In any event, he paid her in cash, right up front, and after the hike she and I drove over to Red Rock Casino to break the $100 bill up. And then I went home and passed the fuck out.

I had to dance at the nightclub until 3am that night as well, and let me tell you it was rough!! I was feeling so shitty that it was a real chore to smile and dance and look alive, and then to make matters worse one of the soles of my clodhopper Frankenstein stacks fell off during my second set, and I had to dance around with one leg half an inch shorter than the other :-/ Lame!

When that shift was finally over, I went home and collapsed into bed for around three days! Thankfully, I had no gigs or other fun stuff going on for a few days…so I mostly rested up. I say “mostly,” because while I was laying there I got a great idea for a new moneymaking venture, and spent a few hours each day driving around town and scouring the internet for supplies. It’s almost ready to be unveiled….and just wait till you see it! I’ll be RICH, I tells ya — RICH!!!! 🙂

Also while I was laid up, I got another amazing idea. I thought I was almost out of business cards (come to find out, I had a whole other box of them…d’oh)…so I decided to design a new card. And I had the devilishly clever idea of designing them to look like one of those hooker cards the porn-slappers hand out on the Strip!!! You know, those little cards advertising escort services, that the poor illegals flick together as you walk past them??! Many in Vegas despise the whole porn-slapping business, saying that it makes our town look terrible. Well, guess what?! Vegas is terrible — why deny it??! It’s a hotbed of sin and inequity, and that’s what people dig about it! Why not revel in it, I say? I love the porn slappers! They’re a vital part of our economy, dammit! If your’e too fucking highbrow to handle it, get your lily ass down to the Smith Center for a Yo Yo Ma circle jerk or something!!!!!!!

So I designed these fabulous cards on VistaPrint, and when they arrived I could not stop cackling with glee. I don’t know, maybe I’m immature (well, I’m definitely immature)… but I just think they’re the funniest thing ever!! I collected a bunch of the real cards to make my design extra-authentic, and I’d say I did a pretty damn good job. Hell, I’d hire me!! (And if you’re wondering what the “$150 Special” is…it’s a one-hour photo shoot. Or a kick in the balls — take your pick!)

Aaaaaaaaaanyhoo, I finally got well after taking all my antibiotics and coughing up about a gallon of sputum…and it was not a moment too soon, as my friend Fabian had a GREAT gig lined up for me. It was time for another prank!!!!

One thing about Fabian, he looooooooooves pranks more than just about anyone I’ve ever met. Last I talked to him, he was flying clear across the country, just to pie someone in the face!!! Must be nice to have that kind of pranking budget!! Anyhoo, now that he’s moved to Vegas, he has started hiring me to help execute some of his pranks…and it’s a beautiful relationship! Last month I did a fairly tame prank on some chick friend of his, where I pretended to be a flaky psychic hippie chick who kept running into her all night…but this time, he totally upped the ante.

For this latest prank, the victim was this Swiss mook he went to college with — one of those Eurotrash Ibiza-type party kids (I say “kid,” but the guy was in his early ’30s). This guy, we’ll call him “Bobby,” is your classic jet-setting party animal. He divides his time between Switzerland, France and California, and whenever he flies out to Cali, he stops over in Vegas for some hardcore clubbing.

Now meanwhile, here in Vegas pool season has officially started — which means that all those ultra-douchey daytime pool parties (they call them “dayclubs” — as in, the opposite of “nightclubs”) have fired up again. If you’ve never been to a dayclub/pool party in Vegas — CONSIDER YOURSELF LUCKY!! They are awful, insufferable affairs involving hundreds of sweaty, drunken morons packed into foul, cum-infested swimming pools…all to the incessant thudding “beats” of some half-witted European DJ or another. BEYOND lame, in other words. (For more of my scathingly witty impressions on dayclubs, see my Yelp review of TAO Beach.)

Aaaanyhoo, Bobby the Swiss Mook and his pals were all going to the douchiest pool party of them all — Wet Republic, at MGM Grand. Back in the day, ReHab at the Hard Rock was the pool party for nappy-extensioned, fake-titted, orange-skinned Vegas girls to be seen at…but after about eight or nine years of gross lewdness, that place has fallen out of favor with the In Crowd, and now Wet Republic is the place to be. I’d only been there once, back when it first opened, and in my memory it was pretty fucking bad. There was only ONE thing in this whole wide world that could get me to go back….and that’s a fabulous prank!

Fabian had the brilliant idea of having me show up at Bobby’s cabana and pretend to be a drunk, sloppy party girl…and then pretend to piss all over him!!!! We got together the day before to plan it all out: Fabian went to a medical supply store and got an IV bag with a long, clear plastic tube. We figured out a way that I could stuff the IV bag full of water into my WineRack bra flask (greatest invention ever; buy some today!), and then string the tube down the small of my back and down into my bikini bottoms, covering everything with an oversized beach t-shirt. There’s a small sort of clip/valve thing on the tube that I could easily manipulate behind my back, unleashing the torrent of “piss” onto an unsuspecting Bobby. BRILLIANT! It looked disturbingly realistic, I must say…even though Fabian didn’t want me to add any yellow food color to the water, for fear of staining Bobby’s clothing 🙁

So now I was faced with the task of going deep into enemy territory at Douche Republic. *Shudder!!!* I despise nightlife/daylife (in my opinion, they should just combine the two terms into one: DOUCHELIFE) and I hate having anything to do with the whole fucking rigamarole. Simply getting in to a place like that takes upwards of an hour, what with all the ass-kissing and name-checking and line-waiting. WHY people willingly do this, I have no idea. Future generations will look back in bewilderment, I have no doubt.

Besides all that, I was wearing an IV bag full of water in my bra — and I know how security can be at these things! They suspect (rightfully so) every halfwit coming into the party of being high on ecstasy, so they do an extra-thorough job of searching people’s bags, pockets, etc…even patting you down like at the airport, to make sure you’re not bringing any more contraband into the party with you. They checked every single pocket on this poor fool’s cargo pants in front of me — I mean, these guys are hardcore!

Fabian had arrived at the party earlier, with Bobby and his group, and he texted me every few minutes with information. It was Fabian who tipped me off to the extra-intensive security check…so I decided to dump the water out of my bra, and just fill it up once I got inside. But, where to hide the empty IV bag? I’m positive they wouldn’t allow that in — they made the poor chick in front of me surrender her umbrella (which she was using to protect herself from the searing desert sun during her hourlong wait in line, poor thing).

Thankfully, I was carrying a beat-up old canvas tote bag that had a hole in the lining…and I was able to stuff the empty IV bag in through that, so that it was totally hidden from security’s prying eyes. After a mere fifteen hours of line waiting, ass-kissing and name-checking, I was finally through the gate and into the party. I headed straight for the bathroom, so I could refill and reposition the bag…and guess what, there was an endless line for that, too!

While I was waiting, Fabian came over and brought me a drink and we discussed how I could best insinuate myself with the group. Saying I was a friend of Fabian’s would be too obvious, so it was decided that my “in” would be this one poor member of the group who had a broken arm. Just like with predators on the savannah, my best approach was to get to the wounded one first, haha!

This poor kid had been asking everyone for painkillers, but no one had any. Well, Fabian scored some oxycodone from his roommate, and had been able to smuggle that into Wet Republic with astonishing ease. HA!!!!! All that security rigamarole, for nothing. DUMBASSES!!!

Anyhoo, Fabian gave me two oxycodone pills, and it was decided I’d sort of dance over and start chatting with the broken arm guy: “Aw, man, that sucks! I broke my arm last summer…I feel your pain. Do you need any painkillers?” Once I’d won him over, it would be easy to infiltrate the group and zero in on Bobby. The idea was that I would start talking about being a fetish model, and he would be intrigued and end up befriending me. Then right before I left, I would ask Bobby to take a photo of me from a low angle, so that he was below me…and I would “piss” on him. Easy enough!

Well, it all started out pretty good: I danced over to their table, chatted up the broken-arm guy, gave him an oxycodone (which, astonishingly, he took right away — an unmarked pill from a total stranger!) and earned his everlasting appreciation. Now I was able to get into their area and start dancing around, trying to attract Bobby’s attention. But that was proving really hard to do, since a)I have no tits, and b)I’m not a skanky blonde!

Bobby was totally the Alpha Male of the group, and thus was swarmed by the aforementioned skanky blondes, making it difficult to approach him. I buzzed around him for an hour, but was unable to penetrate his fortress…until finally, one of the blondes got up to pee or have a miscarriage or something, and I gained a foothold. I rubbed my “tits” (really the IV bag full of water…probably felt pretty much the same as fake tits anyway) on his back, and he finally took notice and started dancing with me. Meanwhile, Fabian was watching from a few feet away, trying not to crack up laughing. The plan was, when I got ready to “piss,” I would rub my stomach, thus giving Fabian the signal to start filming with his iPhone.

But dammit, Bobby had the attention span of a flea, and his attention soon wandered. D’OH!! I looked at Fabian and he kind of shrugged. There was no way I was ever getting this Cock of the Walk to lay down and take a photo of me; what to do?!

Then I noticed there was a sort of chest-high clear Plexiglas counter/bar thingy for setting down your drinks, right next to where Bobby was dancing/fist-pumping…so I climbed up on top of it and started dancing near him. Now my crotch was right at his eyelevel — perfect! Before security could make me get down, I looked over at Fabian, who was trying not to die laughing, and we sort of nodded at each other: this is it!

So I released the clip on the tube running down my back, and water started trickling down my legs. It looked horrifyingly realistic! The trickle became a waterfall, and it REALLY looked like I was pissing all over the bar!!! So much so, that people all around jumped back, exclaiming, “That chick’s pissing on the bar!!!!!”

Bobby backed the fuck up two seconds before Security descended on me. By that time, my bag was empty anyway, so I hopped down to face the music, trying not to crack the fuck up. I could see Fabian behind the security guards, red-faced with suppressed laughter, and that made it all worse!!

“Let me see your ID!” one of the security guards barked at me, so I went over and got my bag and fished around in it while him and his partner stood over me, glaring. I handed over my ID and said, “Wait, guys…before you go getting all mad, check it out: it’s a prank! I had an IV bag of water in my bra; that’s all it was!” I showed them the rig, but they were still mad as hell. Now more security came over, and the one guy explained to his supervisor that it was just a prank. So now I showed him the IV rig, and the other guy handed my ID card back…and then Fabian came over and whispered in my ear “Make a run for it!!! They’re PISSED!!!!!!”

So I grabbed my bag and got the hell out of there — straight out the door, away from the mooks and douches and thudding oonce-oonce-oonce music, back to my car and blessed peace and quiet. But it wasn’t quiet for long — I could not stop cracking the fuck up, laughing!!! It was GREAT!!!!! Unquestionably one of the greatest pranks I’ve ever helped pull off. I may have to order NEW business cards now that say “prankster,” in fact!!!!

So anyhoo, I went home and kinda laid low after that. Fabian invited me to come out later and meet Bobby and the rest of them (Bobby had figured out it was a prank, since Fabian had already told him he was moving to Vegas to start a pranking company…duh!)…but alas, Bobby and his pals were the type of jet-set partiers who rage all day, then sleep til 2am and go out for afterhours. And there was no way I was staying up til 2am just to go meet up with them!!

Anyway, that prank was by far the highlight of my week…although a close second was a few days later, when I went out on my friend’s boat on Lake Mead with some of the crew from the Def Leppard show that’s here in town. (Does that not sound like a 1988 timewarp?) One of the guys said he’d hook a girlfriend and me up with tickets, so next week I’m gonna go rawwwwwk the fuck out at DEF LEPPARD, lol!!! Does the fun ever stop???? Hell, no!

*A note on photos: the pool party photos I used here are from ReHab back around May ’08…the last time I was unfortunate enough to set foot in that lamentable fucking mess. But you get the idea….Wet Republic 2013 is basically exactly the same shit.

Wonderhussy

exploring the desert around vegas

Month: April 2013