Death Valley Nut Kicker and Published Authoress!

In keeping with the work-adventure-work rotation I’ve established lately, ever since returning from my last trip I’ve been hustling non-stop. The minute my flight from Arkansas touched down, I went over to the MGM to do a gig…and I’ve been busting my ass ever since!!! Gotta sock away enough cash to cover my next jaunt, in late November ūüôā

Goddess Collective models me, Jill V and Jessica Dawn W

Goddess Collective models me, Jill V and Jessica Dawn W

Most of my work lately has been outdoor photo shoots, since the weather is PERFECT this time of year for rolling around naked in the desert. I’ve been driving out to remote corners of the valley with various and sundry photographers, twice with a fellow member of my nude modeling troupe, the Goddesss Collective. Us Goddess Collectivists look out for one another, and try to share the wealth when it comes to photo shoots…so if a photographer wants to shoot more than one model, we always refer them to another member of the group, since we all work well together and have what it takes when it comes to art nudes. I did a couple shoots with fellow Goddess Jessica recently, and it was great!

Tarantula!!

Tarantula!!

At one of our outdoor shoots, we were way out in the desert shooting in some old abandoned buildings. The photographer kept telling us to be careful of splinters and snakes and whatnot, and I stupidly bragged that in all my days of outdoor shooting, I was lucky enough to have never seen a rattlesnake or scorpion or anything like that. Well, wouldn’t you know it…not five seconds later, a GINORMOUS tarantula came lumbering along into the shot!!! EEEK!!! The photographer scooped it up with a piece of wood and threw it way out back into the desert, but after that I was a bit apprehensive. I mean, I know tarantulas aren’t poisonous or anything…but they’re still pretty creepy!!

Worse, I wasn’t the only model to see a tarantula lately — come to find out it’s migration season for tarantulas, and one photographer I know saw an entire FLOCK of them crossing the desert floor near Valley of Fire!! I looked them up on Wikipedia, and it’s actually really sad: the male tarantula spends its entire life in a burrow underground, only emerging at the very end to mate. He crawls out of his hole and methodically prowls across the desert in search of a female, and then after they mate, he dies. I feel like there’s some kind of metaphor there, LOL. In any event, I’m surprised I never saw any before this — I’ve been shooting in the desert for about 5 years now.

Me in action at a photo shoot, taken by my fellow Goddess Collective member Jessica

Me in action at a photo shoot, taken by my fellow Goddess Collective member Jessica

Thankfully, not ALL my recent shoots were outdoors — I did another shoot at the Paris hotel that was tarantula-free. Now, in the amateur modeling industry we have this term “GWC” which stands for “Guy With Camera;” it’s a derogatory term used to describe amateur photographers who don’t know their ass from their elbow, but have a camera and just want to photograph naked chicks. Many self-important models refuse to shoot with GWCs, but guess what? I’m no diva, and I have no illusions about what I do: I’m an amateur model, not Heidi Freaking Klum!!! So where the hell would I get off refusing to shoot with a GWC? Besides, their money is as green as anyone’s, and at the end of the day I’m modeling to pay my bills….not get famous. Get over yourselves, girls!!!

selfie from the same photo shoot as above. This was 2 days after I ate all that food at the Arkansas State Fair!

selfie from the same photo shoot as above. This was 2 days after I ate all that food at the Arkansas State Fair!

Anyhoo, I’m¬†so¬†unpretentious (some might say cavalier) about my modeling that last week, I even shot with a GWOC — that’s a Guy Without a Camera! This man I’ve known for years wanted to do a photo shoot, but doesn’t have decent equipment, so I let him use my Nikon D80. I shot with him a couple years ago and did the same thing. ¬†I don’t give a fuck!!! He’s a nice man and he pays my rate, so what’s the fuss?¬†He rented a really nice room at the Paris (I think it was called a Red Room or something, and I definitely recommend them for shooting, as it was really nice and fairly cheap), and we had a very pleasant, enjoyable shoot. And there were no tarantulas!

Dante's View, Death Valley National Park

Dante’s View, Death Valley National Park

Then it was on to the granddaddy of all photo shoots: a three day odyssey into the farthest reaches of Death Valley!! This was an amazing photo shoot because it allowed me to make money¬†while¬†having an adventure — although I’m here to tell you, I really earned every penny the photographer paid me. This was a guy I had shot with back in March, and at that shoot we clicked so well that he booked me waaaay ahead of time for this Death Valley excursion. The plan was for me to pick him up at the airport on Thursday, then drive us out to Stovepipe Wells in Death Valley so that we could begin our shooting at sunrise on Friday.

Sunrise?!?!?!?!?!

Sunrise?!?!?!?!?!

Well, with a life like mine nothing ever goes according to plan: Thursday turned out to be an¬†exceptionally busy day for me, so we had to sort of go with the flow. As it happened, that was the day of a Vegas Valley Book Festival event requiring my attendance — I wrote a piece for this anthology they just published, so I was supposed to do a live reading and book signing that night at the Clark County Library. So the photographer and I worked it out that I would pick him up at the airport, bring him with me to the book signing at 7pm, and then leave immediately thereafter at 9pm and head straight to Stovepipe Wells. It’s a three-hour drive, which meant we wouldn’t get in til after midnight….and then I had to be up at 5am to prepare for our sunrise shoot, so I was in for a world of hurt. But I was up to the challenge!

So here’s how my Thursday went: at 12am (midnight the night before) I did a podcast interview at a local rock radio station, then went straight home to bed so I could be up at 8am for a radio interview on the local NPR affiliate. There, I read an excerpt from my anthology contribution, all about my shitty experiences as a camera girl. The interview went well (much better than last time I was on that station, when I brought in two of my dominatrix pals who were terrible¬†on the air).

The City of Las Vegas BETTER thank me for all I do!!!

The City of Las Vegas BETTER thank me for all I do!!!

Then I went home, ran five miles, wrote my column for CityLife, and headed over to this park near my house for the dedication ceremony of this new playground they just built. I knew they were giving a plaque to my neighbor, who is the president of the neighborhood association…but I didn’t realize I’d be getting a certificate of thanks myself, from the City of Las Vegas, for my tireless work as secretary of the Huntridge Neighborhood Association!! LMFAO!!!! I rolled in wearing slutty pink hot shorts and a tank top, then ended up having to pose for photos with our City Councilman and Congresswoman Dina Titus. Yikes!! Fortunately for me, our neighborhood is RIFE with opportunists and publicity whores who literally elbowed me out of the way for the ribbon-cutting pic, so I was sort of shunted off to the side anyway, to lurk in the shadows in all my whorey glory. But still!

Blathering at the Vegas Valley Book Festival

Blathering at the Vegas Valley Book Festival

After receiving my accolades, I ran home to pack for my Death Valley trip, with barely enough time to grab a spinach wrap from Sunrise Coffee for dinner, stuffing it in my face while racing madly to the airport to pick up the photographer, before heading to the library for the book signing. The photographer sat in the audience taking photos while a panel of local authors all blathered on and on about “progress,” which was the theme of the anthology, and I sat there tapping my toe impatiently waiting for the green light so I could haul ass to Death Valley and maybe get a few hours sleep. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy the book signing and stuff — it was¬†really¬†cool to meet people who read my column, and they all had nothing but kind things to say about it. Plus, I met a few guys who are into the local literary scene, and they invited me to contribute to their literary ‘zine, so that was super cool. For so many years I sat around lamenting the lack of culture in Vegas — well, it has arrived ūüôā

Our motel room in Stovepipe Wells

Our motel room in Stovepipe Wells

Anyhoo, the second the last book was signed, I hightailed it out of there. But first, the photographer was hungry so we had to stop at In-N-Out Burger…and then, the traffic was¬†so fucking miserable¬†getting out of Vegas (it was Halloween weekend, plus there was a huge rodeo event in town and a giant music festival going on at the same time…so traffic was¬†horrendous). So by the time we got to our motel in Stovepipe Wells, it was well after midnight and I was freaking¬†exhausted.¬†I set my alarm for 5am, popped an Ambien, and passed the fuck out.

on location in Death Valley

on location in Death Valley

Now, I had never done a multi-day photo shoot for pay before, so I wasn’t sure how it worked. My usual rate for a full day shoot (8 hours) is $500, but I cut a deal with this photographer: $1,000 for three days. It seemed fair, but I ended up working¬†way¬†more than eight hours a day. The actual¬†shooting¬†time was well within 8 hours, but I also had to drive us around from location to location, so I was pretty much working in one capacity or another from 6am-8pm, which is a 14 hour day. Also, the photographer wanted to document “A Day in the Life of Wonderhussy,” so he was constantly shooting candids of me as I went about my business — even poking his camera in my face at 5am (!!!!!!!!!!) as I was brushing my teeth, looking like a total disaster. I let him do it, though, because I’m all about radical transparency…and the truth is, I don’t wake up looking so glamorous.

Watching the sunrise...a rare sight for a night owl like me!

Watching the sunrise…a rare sight for a night owl like me!

Anyway, I guess I’m not really complaining — the photographer was¬†really nice, and paid for gas, meals and lodging (we shared a motel room with two beds). It just made me realize, that in future, if I do a multi-day photo shoot like this, I should lay some ground rules so that I have plenty of time to rest. They call it “beauty sleep” for a reason, ya know!!!¬†Also, I’m not sure I’ll ever volunteer to do the driving again, either — that was a lot of wear and tear on my truck, especially considering the washboard dirt roads we had to travel on much of the time.

But all that being said….it was an¬†amazing¬†photo shoot, and I¬†definitely¬†recommend bringing a model out there! There is no shortage of¬†amazing¬†locations, and most of them are remote enough that you don’t have to worry too much about being spotted. We were there on a Friday/Saturday, so it was pretty crowded…but even still, were able to shoot virtually unmolested. Ideally, I’d recommend doing it during the week…but if you’re unable, you can still get good stuff if you just go off the beaten path a bit. Also, October appears to be the optimal time of year to shoot — daytime temps were in the 80s-90s, so it was fairly comfortable for both me and the photographer. November, February, March and April would also probably be good months to shoot there.

The Mesquite sand dunes stretch on forever

The Mesquite sand dunes stretch on forever

Our itinerary covered most of the popular areas: we started on the Mesquite sand dunes at sunrise, shooting until it started to get too hot, at which time we headed out to Ubehebe Crater and then the next location, the Racetrack Playa, which was a loooooong drive to get to — we purposely timed it so that we’d arrive by golden hour.

The Racetrack Playa is that famous dry lake bed you always see photos of, where these giant rocks mysteriously move on

What? Why? How?!

What? Why? How?!

their own somehow, leaving trails on the hard-packed lakebed surface. I’d always wanted to go there, but never had the right opportunity — they say the road is¬†terrible, 27 miles of washboardy dirt and gravel littered with¬†sharp rocks that will bust a tire in no time, and there’s no cell reception so you can’t even call for a tow. 4-wheel drive vehicles with high-clearance are strongly recommended…but I figured that if my Ford Ranger had been able to make the 50-mile dirt road to Saline Valley hot springs, it could handle this piddly Racetrack Road. I was packing two cans of Fix-A-Flat, plenty of water, and repair tools…so I figured I’d just drive slo-o-o-o-owly and surely, about 5-10mph the entire way, and it would be OK.

I left a Wonderhussy sticker on one of the teakettles to the left of the samovar!

I left a Wonderhussy sticker on one of the teakettles to the left of the samovar!

As it turned out, I was fine — but they aren’t kidding; that road really¬†is¬†intense! It took about 3 hours each way, and it was a real study in patience, since there’s no radio reception out there either, and the scenery is fairly monotonous. The only roadside attraction is Teakettle Junction, about 3/4 of the way there, which is another shitty dirt road leading off to nowhere that is inexplicably marked with a bunch of teakettles hung there by various passers-by. (I guess if you have a REALLY badass Jeep, you can take the Teakettle Junction road all the way to Saline Valley hot springs. Bucketlist!!!!!)

But once you get to the Racetrack, it’s¬†totally worth it — that place is¬†magical!!! I don’t know or really care what makes the rocks move, I just know that it’s the most photogenic playa I’ve ever seen, perfectly flat and honey-combed with crack marks, and the most beautiful golden color. We were there around 3-5pm, and it was perfect — gorgeous light, and virtually deserted. What few people were there didn’t bother us, as the playa is 2.5 miles long and plenty big enough for everyone to enjoy, naked or not. We shot there til sunset and had a great time!

Devil's Golf Course at sunrise

Devil’s Golf Course at sunrise

After that, it was another 3 hours back to the pavement, and then another hour back to Stovepipe Wells, where we had a surprisingly good dinner in the restaurant there and then I passed out around 9pm. I got the feeling the photographer was disappointed I passed out so early, but come on!!! I was¬†exhausted¬†from modeling and driving all day! Besides, I had to be up at 5am¬†again for another sunrise shoot, this time at Devil’s Golf Course.

 

Rhyolite, pic by Irisphoto

Rhyolite, pic by Irisphoto

So the next day, our itinerary was Devil’s Golf Course, Badwater Basin (lowest point in the Western Hemisphere), then Scotty’s Castle and Rhyolite. I don’t recommend Scotty’s Castle as a shooting location — there’s really nowhere private to shoot, but we were pretty much just killing time waiting for golden hour, which we wanted to spend at Rhyolite. As for Rhyolite itself, it’s a cool old ghost town near Beatty, but I definitely don’t recommend shooting there on a Saturday — there were¬†way too many people around to get many good shots. Still, we managed to sneak in a few. But if you’re looking to shoot in a ghost town, you can’t do better than Gold Point. Hands down, that’s the best ghost town for nude (or even clothed) photo shoots.

After Rhyolite, we headed back into Vegas. The plan was for me to drop the photographer off at Mandalay Bay, then pick him up at sunrise again for the 3rd day of the shoot, which was to be in the desert around Vegas. We also planned to have dinner at Mandalay…but due to the rodeo, Halloween and all the other shit going on in town that weekend, the traffic was¬†so miserable¬†that I was literally unable to find a parking spot! If you’ve ever seen the ginormous fucking parking garage at Mandalay Bay, you’ll know that’s a strong statement — the place was chock-a-fucking-block with rednecks and morons there for the bull riding finals. I circled around inside the garage for awhile before giving up, heading home and passing out…cursing Vegas the entire way. It was a real shocker to go from the quiet desolation of Death Valley to the madness of Vegas, let me tell you.

At El Dorado dry lake bed, pic by Irisphoto

At El Dorado dry lake bed, pic by Irisphoto

The next day I had to get up at 5am¬†one last time, picked up the photographer, and headed out to the desert outside town for a last day of shooting. We hit up the El Dorado dry lake bed, the Boulder City Railroad Museum, the Hoover Dam and Techatticup Junction at Nelson’s Landing. The latter is this amazing¬†little fake ghost town about an hour outside Vegas, with an astonishingly cool collection of junk on hand that is¬†perfect for photo shoots — there were several going on that day, in fact. Alas, they don’t allow nude photography out there — if they did, I’d have the Goddess Collective host an all-day seminar there, and it would be¬†awesome. There is so much cool stuff to shoot with out there, from rusted out old airplanes to gutted pianos and busted TV sets — it’s a photographer’s paradise!!

Roadside brothel photo op!!!

Roadside brothel photo op!!!

Lastly, right before I dropped him off at the airport, the photographer had one last shot he wanted to get: me in the aisle of a Wal-Mart, flashing my twat at him. So we stopped off at a Wal-Mart near the airport, went in through the side entrance by the automotive stuff, found a deserted aisle, and got the shot before hustling out of there. Let it never be said I’m not classy.

So anyhoo, after all that I was¬†exhausted¬†and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed for 3 days straight — but alas, that was the last night of the big Life Is Beautiful festival they were having in downtown Vegas…and how could I miss out on that?

In case you haven’t heard, downtown Vegas has undergone a real transformation over the last few years — a bevy of young hipster-types came in and took over, routing out all the gross crackheads, homeless people and unpretentious types so they could put in coffee houses and chi-chi lounges and whatnot. It’s taken awhile to get the whole scene together, but everything was readied in time for this weekend’s festival, which was like the debut of the New Downtown Vegas. Something like 20,000 people came to the festival each night, from all around the country, and it was a pretty legit party featuring performances by Beck, the Killers and Imagine Dragons among many others. In addition to that, all the old crack motels had been converted into art galleries, and gourmet food vendors lined the streets.

Crashing the Life is Beautiful festival

Crashing the Life is Beautiful festival

It was a pretty pretentious scene for me, and since tickets were upwards of $100 I had decided to skip it. Ironically, I had appeared in the commercial for the festival…but they only paid me $50, with no free ticket, so I was doubly sour about the whole affair. However…..I do love sneaking into events for free (like I did at the Electric Daisy Carnival), so in the back of my mind I was kind of wondering if I should try. So even though I was exhausted from my Death Valley trip… when a visiting photographer friend from Montreal called to invite me to meet him downtown for a drink…I couldn’t resist saddling up my bike and heading down to see if we could crash the festival.

It turned out to be astonishingly easy — we just stood by one of the exits, asking people as they left if they needed their wristbands. It wasn’t long before some kids offered us theirs, which I cut off their wrists using my trusty lipstick knife — and then, even better, some random passing venture capitalist gave my friend a free, unused VIP wristband!! After getting in, we milked that VIP wristband for free wine alllll night long in one of the VIP hospitality areas — sweet! We didn’t bother watching any of the lame-ass acts…we were more interested in just hanging out and soaking up the scene…for free!¬†We got high with some frat kids from Arizona, ate some shitty nachos, and just kinda bummed around looking at all the annoying festival chicks until we got bored and dipped out.

All in all, the festival was OK…but it did have a pretty elitist vibe to it, seeing as they had blocked off a bunch of city streets that were now impassable unless you spent $100+ on a ticket. The whole thing was encircled by a big cyclone fence, right in the middle of a blue-collar, blighted part of town…which seemed to be very symbolic of the whole New Downtown movement: crackheads on the outside, watching the kids frolic on the inside. Just like with the new Downtown scene, anyone is welcome to join in the party…if they can afford it. Hmm.

StoopidVegas.com

StoopidVegas.com

Speaking of downtown Vegas, I also spent a recent evening hanging out on the Fremont Street Experience, interviewing random crackheads and party whores for StoopidVegas.com, this new website I’m partnered with. StoopidVegas is basically a clearinghouse for photos and video of dumbass locals and tourists doing dumbass shit on the Vegas Strip and on Fremont Street, so my friend and I went down there one night to try and get some new footage, by interviewing random street performers and promoters and whatnot. Fun! As you can see with this tragic guy dressed as Elmo, it’s a really shitty scene…and must be shared!!!

Santa!!

Santa!!

Anyhoo, there’s not much I love more than talking to random Vegas freaks and street performers, so look for more coming soon. While I was down there, I also learned some astonishing news: one of my all-time favorite street freaks, this piss-stained old wino who dresses up as Santa Claus for beer money, has disappeared!! Word on the street is, he’s wanted for a felony, so he’s on the lam. WOW!!! I can’t think of many cooler things than a piss-stained wino Santa on the lam…can you???¬†Run, Santa — I hope they¬†never¬†find you!! Actually….I hope¬†I find you, on camera for StoopidVegas! That would totally be the scoop of the decade!

Then another night, I rode my bike down to Fremont Street again, for this pub crawl with a friend of mine, who is without a doubt one of the BIGGEST NERDS ON THE PLANET. He’s a math genius who sort of resembles a heavyset Steve Buscemi, if Steve Buscemi was an alcoholic who slept in a ditch, and he loves Dungeons & Dragons, video poker and Canadian prog-rock masters Rush. Enough said!!! This is the guy who roped me into helping me clean out his storage unit, because he supposedly had a photo of Ms. Cashman fucking a bulldog in there somewhere. Well, I helped him clean out the damn storage…but there was no bulldog pic to be found.

Icelandic geeks on the prowl. Lock up your calculators!!

Icelandic geeks on the prowl. Lock up your calculators!!

Anyhoo, apparently this guy is into playing an MMORPG (online role-playing game for superdorks) called EVE Online, and it just so happened that all the EVE bigwigs were in town for some kind of conference, and were having a pub crawl. My friend asked me to be his date, to get in good with the higher-ups and possibly score a job with them in their home country of Iceland. So it was that I found myself downtown at Commonwealth, making merry with 150 Icelandic superdorks and an open bar. NICE! I guess my hard work paid off, because my friend said he now has a standing offer to move to Iceland…which is cool for him, but a bummer for me, since I have two other SUPER ULTRA DORK-ASS pals that I have long wanted to get him in the same room with, just to see what would happen. Their combined nerdiness would be so intense, I bet the universe would implode!!! But now we may never know ūüôĀ

Why didn't anyone tell me my fly was down?! My furry pink dick is sticking out!

Why didn’t anyone tell me my fly was down?! My furry pink dick is sticking out!

But speaking of pub crawls, all of that was nothing compared to the big social event of the season: the semi-annual Blinking Man bicycle pub crawl!! For this event, something like 300 wackos strung flashing, blinking lights on their bikes and then rode around from bar to bar in downtown Vegas, drinking and carousing and generally just having an amazing time. I suited up in a costume and rode around all night with some of my neighbors, and it really was amazing.  As

The amazing Boris on his fire-breathing seahorse bike!

The amazing Boris on his fire-breathing seahorse bike!

big of an elitist hipster as it makes me, I really do love living downtown. There’s always¬†something¬†going on!

Anyhoo, on to the salacious shit you come here to read: I also did a lot of fetish work the last couple of weeks. One afternoon I did a ball-busting shoot at the MGM Grand, where I kicked this poor guy in the nuts repeatedly for around 90 minutes straight. Ouch!! They had me put on all these different outfits like the Farmer’s Daughter, Bitchy Schoolgirl and Dominatrix…but the scenario was always the same: me kicking him in the balls, over and over. The way this particular website pays was interesting: they offer $20 for a five-minute ball-busting clip; $25 if the guy’s balls are out in the open air. So I ended up making $165…which means yes, I kicked his bare sac for one of the clips. Ewwwww!

The guy himself was super cool, though. By day he’s a pilot for a major airline, but by night he gets off having his balls kicked by random women. He said it was something to do with the adrenaline rush he experiences after the pain subsides…idk. I asked him if he wasn’t afraid that someone would see his videos and then recognize him one day on one of his flights, but he said not really — and even if they did, he wouldn’t really get in trouble, since one of the other pilots at his airline also has a Clips4Sale fetish site featuring stewardesses getting jizzed on!!! Shit, I had¬†no idea¬†the airline industry was so rife with perverts!!! No wonder flying anywhere is such a hassle — they’re probably all in the cockpit blowing each other!!!!

the Cannigals script

the Cannigals script

Then another day I did a shoot for this¬†amazing¬†site, Cannigals.com. The Cannigals are just what they sound like: gals who are cannibals!!!! Their videos all feature beautiful young naked chicks being basted and roasted for the enjoyment of the Cannigals, and I was their latest victim. A friend of mine had shot with them a month or two ago, and she referred me. I went over to their house at the appointed hour, and sat around waiting for them to get their shit together. They had built this really elaborate set, purporting to be a witches’ den, and they even had a professional videographer and a lighting assistant and a script and everything.

It was pretty cool, except the videographer (being a professional) took everything¬†so¬†seriously that it took¬†freaking forever¬†to shoot the slightest scene!! We had to do multiple takes, from multiple angles…all for a freaking 15-minute fetish clip, LOL! I was told it would be a 2-hour shoot, but by the 2nd hour we hadn’t progressed much beyond the main witch looking me up and down, pinching my ass and saying how tasty I looked. Meanwhile, I had places to be later that night (this was the night of my podcast interview), so I had to give them a little goose to get them going.

After that, they hurried along with the rest of the scene, ripping off my dress, tying me up, and then covering me in oil and honey before stuffing an apple in my mouth and putting me in their “oven” to cook me. Yay!!! The second filming was finished, I jumped in the shower, rinsed off all the oil and honey, and got the fuck out of there. To their credit, they paid me an extra bonus for being there so long…and I gotta say, I would¬†definitely¬†shoot with them again, especially if I didn’t have anywhere else to be that night. Fun gals!

weird still life in a truckbed outside the studio

weird still life in a truckbed outside the studio

Finally, one last thing I did was help a friend find new on-air talent for his sex toy network — he basically runs a sort of QVC/HSN for dildos and dongs, so that “nice” suburban moms can buy sex toys from the privacy and comfort of their own home! I think it’s a genius idea, and would totally be on-air talent myself…except that he wants women with medical credentials, to lend an air of legitimacy to his show.

I met this guy randomly, in a very unorthodox way (regular readers of this blog may recall just how I met him, but I’m not repeating it here). He’s a real character, the stereotypical fast-talking Jewish Hollywood TV producer — he used to write for shows like “Diff’rent Strokes…” but now he’s selling some¬†really different strokes, LOL.¬†He just moved his base of operations from L.A. to Vegas, and he hired me as a sort of liaison/assistant to help him find talent. Well, with my massive database of wacky Facebook friends and acquaintances, I was able to hook him up with credentialed talent in no time…and I got to sit in on the interviews, watching the whole process.¬†Fascinating!!!

Ain't NOBODY got time for that! Pic by Larry Hoth

Ain’t NOBODY got time for that! Pic by Larry Hoth

He also has a warehouse full of dildos, dongs and whatnot in the back behind the studio, and offered to let me take whatever I wanted home with me…but the astonishing truth is that I have a very low libido, and don’t really have need for that shit. I’m too busy being roasted and basted and running around the desert naked, kicking pilots in the nuts, to have time to sit around and masturbate. My low libido makes me marvel all the more at all the weird, kinky fetish stuff I do…like, I can’t get over the lengths to which people (mainly men) will go to get their rocks off. I’d rather just drink a glass of wine and interview scuzzy street performers, personally…but whatever!! Diff’rent strokes for diff’rent folks……right?!?!¬†God love them and their insatiable sex drives — they pay my bills!

And finally, speaking of masturbation, it reminds me of this book I read, written by one of my Facebook friends, prominently featuring male masturbation: Gripped, by Jason Donnelly. It’s sort of a page-turner/thriller about a guy addicted to jerking off into socks, whose life is transformed by a strange DVD that shows up on his doorstep. I was oddly, grossly fascinated by its descriptions of compulsive male masturbatory habits, but I guess that’s just how it is with dudes: they have to empty their balls out a few times a day or they’ll explode, or something.¬†God, that would suck!!!!!!¬† Once again, I am reminded of¬†how¬†glad I am that I’m not a man.¬†Ain’t nobody got time for that!!!¬†Still, it’s a fascinating book and a real page turner, so here’s the Amazon link if you want to download it (I read it on my phone, LOL).

Oh, and FINALLY finally, I should mention that I’ll be serving as one of the celebrity judges at this year’s Las Vegas Halloween Parade on Thursday night!! As you may recall, I attended this parade the last couple of years, and it really is one of the best parties around — like Mardi Gras and Burning Man all rolled into one, with art cars and mutant vehicles from Burning Man all rolling down Fremont Street, with the Dancetronauts bringing up the rear in their spaceship with the 100,000-watt sound system. A huge block party/rave follows the parade, and if the last two years were any indication, it’s sure to be an amazing¬†party.¬†It’s THE best place to be on Halloween night, so come on down and by judged by me! I promise I’ll go easy on ya ūüôā

 

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About wonderhussy

I am a foul-mouthed, flat-chested bon vivant and adventuress who likes to curse, drink, smoke and run around nude, and I refuse to kow-tow to the bourgeois moral code of the day. I’ve lived in Vegas over ten years, and have a few stories to tell. I roll around town in a truck stocked with a Breathalyzer and a swizzle stick, a spare pair of panties and two stun guns. Don’t fuck with me!
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2 Responses to Death Valley Nut Kicker and Published Authoress!

  1. Wolynski says:

    Tooo funny, especially gate crashing LIB. Me, I took artistic photos of the chain link fence as a symbol of neighborly love.

  2. Tatiana says:

    Great read (as always)!
    Love the Dante’s View pic of you. Now I too must venture out to Racetrack Playa.

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