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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