This week I had no strange in-room encounters — no ball-busting, no foot worship, and not even any regular nudie photo shoots. But for old times’ sake, I’m including this oldie-but-goodie from 2008, which was taken by a total perv GWC who managed to get himself into the shot!
For those not in the know, “GWC” is a modeling term for “Guy With Camera” — a half-assed amateur with nothing but a camera and a desire to take pix of naked chicks. It is mainly used derisively…but I don’t discriminate. Pros, amateurs, GWCs…all are welcome to photograph me nude! I’ve even shot with a GWOC — a Guy WithOUT a Camera! Yes, it’s true — one guy wanted to photograph me nude but had no equipment, so I had to let him borrow my Nikon D80 for the shoot! I had to show him how to use it and everything — he was totally clueless. But guess what? His money was green. So, GWCs…don’t hesitate to book me!
My gigs this week were an especially nutty assortment. It all started when a girlfriend referred me to a guy who was looking for promo models for his medical marijuana grow school here in town. If you don’t know, a promo (promotional) model is a sort of half-assed model who whores herself out to various corporate masters for pay — passing out flyers at an event, handing out free samples at a trade show, pouring free samples of booze at a liquor store. Most chicks in Vegas who call themselves “models” mean they do this kind of work…which is why you have so many skanky, nappy-extensioned, fat, pimply “models” in town. Most companies book off heavily-Photoshopped photos, and the actual chick is a trainwreck. Still….I know a lot of trainwrecks who get a LOT of work! I guess with promotional modeling, personality counts more than looks. Still….I know a lot of sour-pussed bitchy divas who somehow get work. Go figure!
A word about PT’s — it is a huge chain of local bars in Vegas that are for the most part dark, depressing dens filled with cigarette smoke and service-industry-bots wallowing in post-shift malaise. Not very much fun! This location, however, is their flagship location — clean, spacious, light and airy due to the fact that it has actual WINDOWS looking out at the airport runway across the street. There’s an awesome outdoor patio facing the runway, and you can sit there with a drink and some of their excellent food, watching planes take off and land (which I find oddly meditative…and I’ve been hanging out with this hot pilot lately, so I have a newfound appreciation for aviation).
Anyway, my meeting with the grow-school guy went well, and he hired me to do some promotions at First Friday, which is a big arts festival we have downtown the first Friday of every month. They close off the streets, and there’s bands and street musicians and all kinds of art galleries and bars….really a fun event. This guy had me and another model follow him around all night in matching “medigrownv.com” wifebeaters and Daisy Dukes…just walking around, looking hot, attracting attention for his business. Cake!
While we were downtown, we stopped into the new Artifice Bar & Lounge to check out the fabulous photo of me hanging on the wall. This was taken a couple months ago by my friend Curtis Joe Walker (curtisjoewalker.com) (the guy who owns Charlie, the ventriloquist’s dummy). Another photo he took of me, titled “Adventure,” was hanging in the Brett Wesley Gallery across the street…but someone bought it! Woo hoo — to think that a pic of me is hanging on someone’s wall, and not just residing in a digital spank-bank. Legitimacy at last!
I also met up with the owner of the grow school one afternoon for a private, one-on-one lesson on the cultivation of medical marijuana. IT WAS FASCINATING! I’ve never had much interest in botany — I have somewhat of a black thumb, and my only attempts at keeping houseplants are a few cacti and a mint plant (for mojitos, of course). But I learned a ton that afternoon, and I really enjoyed it. I love learning about new stuff! In fact, if I could go back to college and just be a student for the rest of my life, I’d be perfectly content.
Aside from learning about and promoting the cultivation of medical marijuana, I also did a good old-fashioned fetish shoot for the good people at GirlsGoneRude.com. I love shooting for them because it’s a BLAST — you get paid to do all kinds of awful stuff like burp, make pig-faces and hawk loogies onto a glass tabletop. (Guys pay to download the clips… and I guess jerk off to them.) Good times!
In addition to all the aforementioned ladylike activities, I also did an overeating clip…which is my favorite type of clip to shoot! Usually, they have me eat all kinds of awful nastiness like McDonald’s hamburgers, hot dogs, Twinkies, pizza… something gross and fattening that leaves me feeling bloated and miserable, because unlike other overeating models, I actually digest the food instead of puking it up.
This time, thankfully, she just had me eat 3 jumbo-size cans of soup (all dumped into one huge mixing bowl) and two boxes of Pepperidge Farm cookies. I managed to finish all the soup and one entire box of cookies…plus one cookie from the second box. BLEH!!!! I was soooooo full after…but that’s OK, because after the actual eating clips, they always film a second clip of me just rolling around, moaning and groaning and stroking my distended belly. Yes, apparently there is a special class of guy who gets off watching THAT, too. Hey — I’m not here to judge!
I also did one more really weird clip of me wearing these nasty old purple satin bridesmaid pumps from the 1980s. Some guy had sent in a special request for me to spit on my feet and spit in the shoes and then slide my feet into the spit-filled shoes and squelch ‘em around. Yuck!! But again….who the hell am I to judge? I just kicked someone in the nuts for money!
So after the shoot was over, I went home to sort of relax and digest for awhile before my next gig, which didn’t start until midnight. This was a real craigslist special — some lady was looking to pay 10 photographers $120 each to pose as paparazzi in front of TAO nightclub that night. Apparently, some newlywed couple was coming to the club, and the husband wanted the bride to feel special with all these paps clamoring to get her photo.
Well, I submitted my info for the job, but didn’t really expect to get it — by the time I woke up and went online and saw the ad, it had already been up for 12 hours…and those kinda gigs go FAST on craigslist. But I submitted anyway, and they ended up hiring me as the token chick paparazzo! Affirmative action, working in my favor at looooong last.
So I grabbed my D80 and went down to the Venetian at midnight, where I joined a gaggle of real (well, B-list-Vegas) paparazzi as the token chick. We were prepped by the event planner who was running the whole thing: apparently, this couple had had a quickie wedding, but now the guy wanted to give his new bride a real luxury Vegas Experience, complete with a stretch Hummer limo and a crowd of paparazzi shouting her name in the valet area.
Whoever this guy was, he apparently had some major coin! The entourage rolled up in their limo, and disembarked to a crowd of us fake paps yelling “Laci! Over here! Look this way!” “Laci” (not her real name) was a young silicone-breasted chippy in a totally see-though black minidress. She must have had flesh-colored pasties on, because try as I might I couldn’t make out her nips…even though her dress was TOTALLY see-thru. Anyhoo, we paps followed the entourage from the valet area to the packed mess in front of the nightclub, blasting our flashes all the way. Once they entered the club, we were done — 15 minutes, easy-peasy. The easiest $120 (cash) I ever made! I was home in my jammies by 12:45. Nice!
The other weird gig I did this week was as part of a focus group on slot machines. This consumer research company paid us $100 each to come in for 4 hours and talk about what we like and don’t like about playing penny slots — you know, the ones with cartoon graphics and 50 payout lines, like “Cleopatra,” “Texas Tea” and “Hexbreaker.” HEY — I’ll do ANYTHING it takes to make a buck, ya heard?!
During the course of the focus group they fed us breakfast and lunch, and had us design our dream video slot machine. It was kinda fun, but also pretty depressing — you can imagine what kind of toothless, witless degenerate troglodytes qualify for a study like that. It was a true cross-section of Vegas….and altogether somewhat disheartening.
I didn’t let it get me down, though, because I had a date to hang out at the pool with my friend Muscles Manischewitz…and I was able to drown my sorrows in a frosty pina colada poolside at the M Resort. After that, we went and pigged out on Mediterranean food at Almaza hookah lounge…and then I had to roll my fat ass into work, to shoot souvenir photos at the English ex-boy-band show.
I only worked my camera girl job two nights this week — once at the adult circus, where I made $37, and then this shift at the ex-boy-band show, where I made a whopping $62. Woo-hooo! Drinks on me! Unfortunately, I had an hour-long break during the show, in which I wandered into the Forum Shops and spent $60 on a bra ($60!!!!!!!) that is supposedly guaranteed to increase your cup size by 2. I figured it would be a good thing to wear on promotions, when they kinda want someone with at least a B-cup…so I suppose it was a sound investment. Still….$60?! Really?!!
After I bought the bra, I went back into the showroom to shoot the meet & greet with the ex-boy-band star. Boy, was THAT ever a fiasco! He usually comes out after the show to pose for photos and autograph these 8 x 10s they sell for that express purpose…well, this night he had another obligation, and never showed up. His rabid fans were FURIOUS! I had to stand there while this drunk lady with wine breath bawled in my face about how she’d just flown in from Australia and had been awake for 30 HOURS and all she wanted was an autograph…blah blah blah…boo hoo hoo. I understood her anger and frustration….but really. I’m just some bimbo in hot pants and fishnet stockings. Do I really LOOK like I have any influence over an ex-boy-band star???
Ugh, anyway…..Sally Dingdong is FINALLY returning from Botox camp next week, so THANK GOD that means the end of all this adult circus/boy band/ minimum wage nonsense. But…..it also means the return of cheap-ass French and Quebecois showgoers…and the return of my nemesis, the Sally Dingdong mannequin. So it won’t be all sunshine and roses. Stay tuned!
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