Well friends, I’ve officially been sober for three days now. My last puff of weed was around 9am Saturday, and my last alcoholic drink was a Bloody Mary on Saturday evening. And let me tell you something….the sober life SUCKS ASS!!!
I’m on the wagon, of course, because I’m undergoing this bullshit neurofeedback program to try and beat my insomnia. I started it Sunday morning, and while I only have two more days of the treatment itself, I still have twenty-three more days of sobriety ahead of me (they recommend not drinking/smoking for three weeks afterward). Boosauce!!!!!
Now, since I knew well ahead of time that I’d be going thru this little dry spell, I made sure to get an extra two tons of partying out of my system beforehand, to tide me over on those lonely nights at sea, so to speak. Lucky for me, I had some out of town visitors who saw to it that I was kept fully immersed in the sauce for the ten days or so before I started my neurofeedback.
First, a friend we’ll call Dr. Zhivago came to town. I met Dr. Z in the unlikeliest of places…What’sYourPrice.com, that cheesy dating site where you charge people to go out with you (as previously discussed, my profile states clearly that I am only hiring myself out as a dinner companion, so there’s no hanky-panky). Anyhoo, Dr. Z hired me back in March or April, and we really hit it off. He is a super cool guy, and we share many interests — boozing poolside at the Wynn among them! The Wynn hotel is his happy place, you see — Dr. Z comes from a central California cow town with little cultural refinement, so when he comes to Vegas he likes to stay at the swankiest, most refined hotbed of douchebaggery on the Strip. Wouldn’t you?!
Anyhoo, Dr. Z rolled into town and I buckled up for a week of boozing. Poolside lounging, fine dining and karaoke were all
on the agenda…and we managed to fit them all in, despite the fact that Vegas was in the midst of a serious heat wave where daytime temps went up to 117!!! Lounging by the pool was particularly strenuous in that kind of heat, especially since I was growing out my bush for a 1960s pinup photo shoot, and its sprawling bramble necessitated my wearing the biggest high-waisted old-timey bikini bottoms I could find. Talk about swamp ass!!!
Now, one thing about Dr. Z is that he’s generous to a fault. Since our friendship has long transcended the What’sYourPrice rigamarole, he doesn’t pay me for my time anymore…but he still enjoys lavishing gifts on me. Aside from taking me to some amazing dinners, and plying me with Vegas’s finest overpriced booze, he also brought me a bag full of gifts — just like Santa Claus, LOL!
I had to draw the line, however, when he tried to bestow upon me a check for $1,000, to be used toward my neurofeedback. Come on, man! It was very generous of him, but I didn’t feel comfortable accepting it, and rather rudely (I fear) refused to take it.
Now, as you can imagine I was feeling pretty full of myself after that, like, “Oooh look at me, chock full o’ moral fortitude!” I swaggered out to the parking lot and drove home feeling like a boss…and then when I got home, I found that one of the water heaters in my house had sprung a leak and flooded the attic and walls of my home office!!! (For some reason the idiot who built this place had a water heater installed in the attic, above my guest bathroom…WTF?!)
So now I was faced with a terrible mess to clean up, and after all was said and done I ended up having to pony up almost exactly $1,000. D’OH!!!!!!!!!! That’ll teach me to act self-sufficient!
Anyhoo, once the whole water heater fiasco was cleaned up and repaired, Dr. Z was on his way back to California, and another long-time good friend was on his way in. This is another man of means who is generous to a fault, so I was in for more good times — plenty of booze, plenty of food, and plenty of fun. Only, this person was in a real funk, and not his normal fun-loving self…so times were somewhat uncertain.
We hung around in Vegas for a few days, and then flew out to Florida for the rest of the week, where he has a beautiful luxury condo on the beach. We had planned this about a month ago, but in the interim I guess he had second thoughts, as he seemed really nervous and out of sorts the whole trip. I think what happened was, his best friend and business partner, who owns a condo in the same high-rise, happened to be in Florida at the same time, with his wife. MY friend is recently divorced from his own wife, and I guess the two wives used to be friendly…and now my friend was afraid of what would happen if we ran into the other couple in the elevator. Basically, he was embarrassed to be seen with me!!!
This was a super-awkward position to be in, and I kinda wished I hadn’t gone with him at all. I felt like a homewrecker, which is ironic because a) he’s already divorced, and b) we don’t have a romantic relationship, anyway! We’re just friends…but I know everyone who sees us together automatically assumes he’s my sugar daddy and I’m his ho.
I understood his funk, for the most part — he’s a moody type of guy anyway, so I’m somewhat used to his melancholia…but it was still a pretty big buzzkill. We flew first-class out of Vegas, but no amount of free booze and ass-kissing was able to mask the tension. We still had fun, but you could really see the whole thing weighing on my friend’s mind.
Then, when we landed, shit got even worse! We landed at this little podunk airport in Daytona, right next to the
NASCAR track, late Tuesday night. Ours was the last flight in, so while my friend waited for our luggage, I went to use the ladies’ room. When I came back out, his driver was waiting for us, and we headed out toward New Smyrna Beach, where his condo is (about 25 minutes away). But when we got to his building and started unloading our bags, I realized one of my carry-on bags was missing — the one with my laptop and iPad!!
I had given it to my friend while I went to the ladies’ room, and he had accidentally left it on a bench near the baggage carousel. D’OH!!! He immediately sent his driver back to see if it was still there, and while we waited I drank about a gallon of wine and tried to think positive thoughts about this being the Bible belt and all. Surely people were honest down here, and someone had turned it in! I mean, we were the last flight in of the night, so surely security had found it when they were closing up the airport…right???
Right….well, sort of. We got a call from his driver informing us that the bag was indeed there (whew!!), but I had to come down in person to pick it up. And also, he advised us that the bag had been cut open. Apparently, when they find an unattended bag in an airport, they have to call in the bomb squad and cut it open with the Jaws of Life or some such — so my bag had been destroyed.
Whatever! It was an old bag anyway, I didn’t care — I was just glad to hear my laptop and iPad were OK! So the poor driver had to come back and pick us up. We grabbed a bottle of wine and headed back to the airport again, where I was let in by a very stern pair of Volusia County Sheriff’s deputies. One of them seemed to see the humor in the situation, so I cracked a smile and tried to joke about it.
The other deputy did not see the humor at all, and proceeded to tear me a new asshole: “Young lady, this is a very serious offense. We had to call in the bomb squad from clear across the county, and you could potentially be fined $15,000 for this!!! NEVER leave a bag unattended in an airport!!!!!!!!!” Well, gee, motherfucker, it’s not like I wanted to leave my laptop and iPad in your shit-ass podunk airport — you really think I did it on purpose?!?!?!
But I just bit my tongue and nodded like “Yassir, yassir!” until they finally signed the bag over to me, and I was able to get the hell out of there, go back to the condo and get high as a kite. But then when I opened the bag the next morning I saw that not only had they cut open the bag, but they had somehow scratched the screens of both my laptop and my iPad, and had completely severed the cord to my iPad charger!!
I have to ask, what kind of dumb-ass bomb squad cuts through a wire when dismantling a bomb?! If it had been a bomb, the whole place would have been blown sky-high!!! I think they must have done it out of spite — the scratches on the screens, too. How else to explain a scratch on a closed laptop screen? Thankfully, my iPad had a screen protector on it that saved the day completely…and the scratch on my laptop isn’t very big — sort of a fun souvenir from my trip down South. I’m looking at it as I type this, in fact!
Aaaaaanyhoo, after all that excitement, we didn’t get to bed til around 4am, and didn’t get up til noon. That’s Eastern time, mind you — back in Vegas it was pretty much my regular hours. We kept to that schedule the whole week, too. Honestly, between our sleeping in and my friend’s foul mood, we didn’t really do much of anything down there. We did climb to the top of a lighthouse, and go for a drive on the beach (in Daytona, you can drive on the beach — it’s the weirdest thing). And we tried to go to a nearby nude beach, but got there too late and the gate was closed.
But other than that, we mostly sat around drinking. We spent the 4th of July on one of his balconies, watching all the various firework displays that were going off up and down the coast. Despite this being Florida in July, it was actually very temperate, and I had to wrap myself in a blanket, LOL!
It was also really nice the following night at the racetrack, when we went over to watch this qualifying round for the big NASCAR race on Saturday. My friend
always gets tickets to this giant hospitality tent out front, where it’s free food and unlimited booze, so we spent about 3 hours boozing in there before the race started. I even got to meet Jared, the ex-fatass spokesman for Subway…since Subway was one of the sponsors of the race, he was there toeing the corporate line, doing his masters’ bidding. Aren’t we all???
Then, we went out to the stands to drink more booze and watch the race. Unfortunately, unlike my trip to the Daytona 500 last February, there were no spectacular crashes…but it was still a nice night, balmy and breezy and ever so much more comfortable than Vegas. My friend bought me this awesome Miss NASCAR tee shirt, which is my #1 new favorite shirt, and we ended up having a pretty good time.
After the race, my friend rallied a bit and had his driver take us down to one of his all-time favorite titty bars, Lollipops, where we had more drinks and watched this poor stripper with a black eye try and schmooze some poor old redneck. But you could tell the shroud of melancholia was still heavy upon my friend, so we didn’t stay long. Instead, we all went over to Waffle House for a big old late-nite breakfast. Of course I had my hash browns “all the way:” scattered, smothered, covered, chunked, diced,
peppered, capped and topped — hold the gravy (I’m not a swine, you know!!). YUM!!!
The next day, we all went back to the racetrack and headed straight for the hospitality tent for more free booze. Alas, I couldn’t stay more than 15 minutes, as I had to fly back to Vegas — so I chugged a Bloody Mary and then said my goodbyes. My friend’s driver took me to the Orlando airport (thank dog I didnt have to face those assholes at the Daytona airport
again), and O…M…G. I thought I’d been to some shitty airports before, but the Orlando one takes the cake!! Hordes and throngs of squalling tots in asinine mouse-ear hats…oy, vey. What with all the diaper bags, strollers and parental broken dreams, it took forever to get through security. Remind me never to fly out of that airport again!!!!!!!!!
So I flew back to Vegas, had one last Bloody Mary on the plane, and then it was Sobriety Time I got up bright and early the next morning to begin my course of neurofeedback, or Brain Training as they call it in this particular program.
Every day this week, I’ve headed out to this woman’s McMansion in the far southwestern suburbs of Vegas at 10am, where I proceed to lay in a recliner with electrodes stuck to my scalp with goo, while a software program measures my brainwaves and plays these weird musical tones back at me, to “re-train” my brain into performing correctly. Sometimes I have to visualize certain things like a bouncing ball or glimmering lights, but sometimes I just get to lay there and doze off. I do this from 10am-noon, then I get a one-hour break to go eat some protein (you’re supposed to eat a lot of protein while doing this), and then another two hours from 1-3pm. Then I pay her $350 and go home.
So far, I haven’t noticed any changes in my sleep patterns at all…but I still have two more days, plus the three week recovery period, so I’m reserving judgment til then. Since I haven’t been able to smoke weed, my sleep is pretty fractured…but not as bad as when I was in Ireland, at least. I’ve been able to get about 5 hours of “deep” sleep each night, so I don’t feel too bad. My only worry is that if this is how I sleep at home, in my own bed…how shitty is my sleep gonna be when I’m in Sturgis, sleeping on the floor of some random guy’s condo with five other models????? Yikes!!!!!!!!!!!
Now, my insomnia could have been caused by many different things — LSD, ecstasy, excessive breath-holding…but a long-held hunch of mine is that it might also be at least partially due to FOMO. FOMO is this marvelous new acronym I just read about which stands for Fear Of Missing Out — in other words, I’m afraid to lose consciousness for fear that I’ll miss out on some awesome new opportunity or adventure. I mean, I do turn off my ringer while sleeping, but I’m one of those annoying people who checks their phone every 5 seconds to see what’s going on. Between Facebook and Twitter and Model Mayhem and all the various meetup.com groups I belong to, plus all the junk mail lists I’m on, I get an email or text about every few minutes, all day long…and I check them all, in case one of them turns out to be my big break!!!
Now, that can be somewhat nerve-wracking….so lately I’ve been trying not to check so often. I mean, WTF could I really be missing out on??? Plenty, it turns out
You remember a couple of months ago when I auditioned for Wheel of Fortune out here? Well, I felt like I aced that initial test, and they said they would contact those of us they were interested in via mail or email within the next couple of months. Since then, I’ve checked my mail and email every day, but never got anything. I figured they must have not liked me after all….until the other day, it occurred to me to check my spam mail folder.
Come to find out, they had emailed me – back on June 10th!! I was supposed to have gone in for my formal audition on June 25th…which means that I was boozing by the Wynn pool, blissfully unaware I missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime to win fabulous cash and prizes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
:-( :-( :-( :-( :-( :-( :-( :-( :-( :-( :-( :-( :-( :-( :-( :-( :-( :-( :-( :-( :-(
Of course, I called the hotline right away and left a message…and I emailed them, letting them know what happened and that I was still interested. But I haven’t heard back, so I guess this will have to go in my ever-growing file of unrequited ambitions. Damn!
This was especially painful for me because I had very little work lined up for the month of July. What with being sober all month, I really needed some work to keep me busy and keep my mind off my miserable sobriety — plus, I need to make some cash for my adventure fund, since I’ll be traveling most of August. And what with this Brain Training bleeding my bank account dry $350 at a time, I really could have used some fabulous cash and prizes.
But just when things were looking really bleak, I ended up booking a fabulous role as an Elvis impersonator in a national TV commercial!! It shoots next Tuesday, so hopefully sometime soon you’ll see Wonderhussy on a TV near you. I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes. It doesn’t pay much, but it should be a ton o’ fun, at least!
After that, some kind of supernatural floodgates seemed to open, and I suddenly got a ton of work. Not only did I have a very pleasant What’sYourPrice date with a young software engineer from Canada the other night, but I am also playing Tony the Tiger at a 7-Eleven convention next week, plus doing an Axe body spray demo (LOL!) and some wrestling fetish videos later in the month. I think I’m also working some kind of NBA event later this week, too. Whew!!!!
Finally, you may be wondering what I’ve been up to modeling-wise of late. I did that ’60s pinup shoot I was growing my bush out for, and supposedly the pics were good enough that they’re going to be published in some British pinup magazine soon! I’ll be sure to post the info here when I get it. We did the shoot in this amazing retro furniture store, but the day of the shoot was super fucking hot and humid (it was one of those 117-degree days, dammit) and the place isn’t air-conditioned, only swamp-cooled. To make matters worse, I couldn’t really blast the a/c in my truck on the way there for fear of fucking up my beehive hairdo, so I was so freaking hot when I got there that the second I walked in the store I ripped off my dress and stood there buck-ass naked, fanning myself madly with my appointment
book!! I didn’t realize that the store was still open to the public during the shoot — d’oh!!! I think I made a bad impression on the store staff :-/
Also, a couple weeks ago I did a shoot with a guy who was in town for the World Series of Poker. I went up to his room thinking, “Another day, another perv…” but to my immense delight he turned out to be a true artiste, and the pics are actually classy. Shockeroo!!!!! It’s shoots like these that reaffirm my decision to be a mode– ah hell, who am I kidding???! The pervy ones are much more fun to write about!!!!
But one of the best shoots I did lately wasn’t even really a shoot — my friend Suzanne Lugano asked if I was interested in being body-painted at this tattoo expo, and then going to a benefit party and walking around naked in some art gallery. Does a bear shit in the woods?! Come to find out, at the benefit I’d be handing out samples of lickable wallapaper — like in the old Willy Wonka movie, where a strawberry tastes like a strawberry and a schnozzberry tastes like a schnozzberry — so she asked if I could do my hair like an “Oompa Loompa geisha.” !!!! Could I?!?!
I hit up Party City for some orange hairspray and then the dollar store for some oversized novelty lollipops, and headed down to the tattoo expo, where Suzanne painted me in front of a crowd of lusty blue-
collar greaser-types. When she’d finished, this random photographer came over and asked if he could take some pics of me while she broke down her booth — and boy am I glad he did! These pics are fabulous!!
After that, we headed back downtown to this schwanky art gallery on the ground floor of the classy hi-rise where my friend Fabian lives, and I handed out lickable wallpaper and edible cherry blossoms while mingling naked with the crowd of self-important art aficionados. I won’t say too much about it because it’s the subject of my next CityLife column, but suffice it to say it was hilarious. I drank about 5 gallons of hi-class wine, both at the gallery reception and upstairs in an uber-schwanky loft belonging to some local design bigwig…but for once in my life, I didn’t make an ass of myself. Well,
one of my pasties did pop off…and my ginormous 60s bush was peeking out the corner of my stick-on thong panty…arrrrrrgh, what the hell. I guess I did make an ass of myself, after all.
But, isn’t that what life is all about? The well-lived life, anyway…
Incoming search terms:
- Sarah Jane Woodall