There is a disparaging term used by models in the freelance modeling biz: GWC, which stands for “Guy With Camera.” It’s used to describe the classic stereotypical perv, often with little or no technical or artistic ability, who buys a fancy camera simply as a means to ogle naked chicks.
As a freelance model who has shot with hundreds of amateur photographers, I guess I’ve shot with more than a few who could be classified as “GWCs” — but it doesn’t bother me. I mean technically, all my clients are guys with cameras. Ultimately, art is subjective; who’s to say what separates an Artist from a hack? And who am I to judge, anyway — after all, I’m just a GWT — Girl With Twat!
Either way, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: as long as your money is green, I’m happy to shoot with anyone — from beginner to advanced. I don’t care what kind of camera you have or how big your lens is; this isn’t a dick measuring contest! We’ve all met that one guy who always has to have the biggest and best equipment; he’s also usually the one telling everyone within earshot how much this or that lens cost, as he lugs five bags of softboxes and strobes out to a slot canyon already filled with soft, natural light.
But while that guy may end up getting some great results…more often than not, I find it’s the guys with more modest setups who often get the best shots. In my experience, it’s like a watermark: generally speaking, the bigger and more obnoxious the watermark, the less accomplished the photographer. Often, I find this holds just as true for camera gear; though there is definitely some truth to the adage “You’re only as good as your glass,” in my experience, I have found that having a good eye can make up for a multitude of shortcomings, gear-wise.
Taking that line of thought to its extreme, when I made my new commercial advertising my modeling services, I even put a disclaimer at the end: “iPhone shooters also welcome.” LOLz! I was being semi-facetious; no one would really be such a half-asser…right?? HA! Little did I realize that only a few days later, I really would end up shooting with a guy who used nothing but a cellphone. And an old-ass Samsung Galaxy SIII, at that!
Just last week, one of my favorite photographers, JCP Photography, had hired me for a shoot out in a fantastic new part of the desert that I had somehow heretofore missed out on exploring: the area around Gold Butte and Whitney Pockets, off the northern arm of Lake Mead (more about this shoot coming soon). We had a great day shooting around the area, but didn’t have enough time to hit the beautiful, arresting rock formations of Whitney Pockets — and as we drove past it on the way back to town, I vowed to come back as soon as possible for further exploration. I love finding a new corner of the desert!
So I ended up going back out there several days later with my friend Randy a/k/a Shutterbug Studio. Now, Randy is no half-asser; I’ve shot with him many times, and he’s generally on top of his game. But he’d been having a rough time lately; on top of being stressed out at work, both of his personal cameras were in the shop…so he’d had to borrow a camera from a friend for this shoot. And come to find out, just as we arrived at Whitney Pockets, he realized there was no battery in the camera!!! D’oh!!!!!
Now, I can say without hesitation that Randy is one of the best photographers I’ve worked with — he understands natural light as few others do, and is able to get great shots outdoors, even in the harsh light of high noon. (In my experience, I find that the ability to see and appreciate “good” light is not universal; just as some are colorblind or tone-deaf, some don’t seem to notice nuances in light.) Anyway, semi-jokingly, I urged him to whip out his phone: “Just use your cell! It’s better than nothing!!”
To my surprise, he did just that — and even better, it wasn’t even the new iPhone or anything fancy like that; as in all things, Randy is unpretentious and carries an old-ass Samsung Galaxy S3. As the owner of a Galaxy S5 myself, I already knew that the camera takes pretty good shots; on all my adventures with my sister, I always have her use my camera instead of her iPhone when photographing me naked in nature (the latest iPhone is said to have a better camera, but I haven’t tried it).
Sure enough, Randy went in and made a few tweaks, bumping the file size up to the maximum….and then we proceeded to do our entire shoot with this little Samsung smartphone. If anyone happened to see us, it must have looked absolutely ridiculous — the ultimate in GWC amateurishness, with me balancing my naked ass on a rock while he clicked away with one hand in his pocket! LOL!!!
But, the photos speak for themselves — they came out great, proving to me that it is NOT just about the cost of your camera and the length and girth of your lens; if you are truly talented, you can get great shots with just about anything! You can even go into the camera settings on many smartphones to adjust the ISO, metering, white balance and more.
Now granted, sure he’s not gonna be able to blow these up to poster size…but let’s be real; how many of us really do end up making posters of what we shoot? Few people make actual prints at all, anymore; most of us end up enjoying our photos on a laptop or tablet….or even more often, on a 2.5″ smartphone screen. So realistically, very few people need a 5MB file!!
In any event, the photos he ended up getting were more than high enough quality for me to use on my Model Mayhem page and on my various social media platforms — and more than enough for him to use in his planned coffee table book, one of these days 🙂 So it was a win-win.
As a freewheeling adventuress, I take any most offer of fun that comes my way. So when my friend Dr. Kildare invited my sister and I to go camping with him in Key West, FL the other week…of course I said yes!
Dr. Kildare is a friend I met through this very blog, a couple years ago — he’d been Googling Saline Valley hot springs, had
read my write-ups, and then hired me to guide him back there in 2014. He and my sister and I all ended up getting along like a house on fire, and we all ended up going back there again in 2015…and now, he invited both of us to join him for a week of camping in the Florida Keys — all expenses paid! Wa-hoo!!
If nothing else, I was curious to see how the experience of camping was different east of the Continental Divide; I’m West Coast to the core, but wanted to see how the other half of the country does it. Prior to this, the farthest east I’d camped was Colorado (not counting Europe, where I camped quite a bit as a child). So I packed up my gear, gathered up my sis, and flew to Miami, where Dr. Kildare picked us up at the airport.
Before heading down to Key West to guzzle margaritas, nibble spongecake and boil shrimp, Dr. Kildare had arranged for us to camp out in North Miami for a couple nights, so we could check out nearby Haulover Beach — one of the most famous nude beaches in the country. That’s right — I said camping, in Miami!! Come to find out, you can basically camp out at Oleta River State Park, right in the middle of a North Miami mangrove swamp — they don’t allow tent camping, but they have these crazy little cabins you can rent, with firepits and picnic tables, and nothing but very rustic bunk beds inside.
So even though we were staying in a cabin, it was basically like camping…in the middle of civilization!! It was totally surreal –if you faced east, toward the ocean, it looked like you were in the middle of the wilderness, with only the occasional siren or helicopter alerting you to the fact that all around you is the urban sprawl of the Miami metro area. Bizarre!!
The only downside was, because everything is so dank and damp back east, we had a hard time starting a campfire with the soggy mangrove wood. Also, the weather in Florida turned out to be unseasonably shitty that week — during our stay, it was actually warmer in Vegas :-/ But we still had a good time, and I even sacked up and went nude at Haulover Beach, which was actually a super-beautiful, amazing beach which I can’t wait to go back to at a warmer time.
Incidentally, while at Haulover I also made a really fun video of my experiences running around naked, doing yoga and whatnot….but alas, I can’t post it here, as I made it under exclusive contract to a nudist website that has hired me to make videos for them — TrueNudists.com; check it out!
Anyway, after hitting Haulover, we all headed down U.S. Hwy 1 to Key West, where the weather was a bit better, and where Dr. Kildare had booked us a campsite at one of the few tent campgrounds in the area. Key West is super-small, and a true tropical paradise, so real estate is at a premium down there…and the options for us broke-ass fools are few. But Boyd’s campground in Stock Key ended up being pretty cool — for the low, low price of $80, the three of us were able to jam in between two other 10′ x 10′ waterfront sites, lulled to sleep by the comforting hum of RV generators and woken by the early-morning F-14s screaming off from a nearby air base. Cozy!
Needless to say, I found camping back east to be MUCH different from camping out West — less open space, and much harder to run around naked! In all of Key West, in fact, it was close to impossible to find a nude beach…or anywhere at all where we could sun ourselves without fear of getting tan lines. The east coast is just not like the West, where you can hop in your truck, drive 20 minutes, and have the freedom to run around the vast, empty desert stark nakers as long as you want :-/
I don’t know how you easterners do it! I mean, I understand the tradeoff — you have beautiful, sugar-sand, palm-tree-lined tropical beaches…..while all I have is a parched dry lakebed. But, still — the freedom to run around naked in the sunshine under a vast sky goes a LONG way! Sure, the campground we stayed at had heated bathrooms with flush toilets and piping-hot showers….but I’ll take pissing behind a creosote bush ANY day, if it means wide-open spaces and F R E E D O M ! ! !
In any event, we did discover one place in Key West where we could drop trou and feel at home: the Garden of Eden clothing-optional rooftop bar!! This amazing little sanctuary sits on the third-floor rooftop of a downtown building, right on touristy Duval St…yet has somehow remained an unpretentious, fun little oasis of zany nekkidness amid all the pasty east-coast tourist families and rust-belt bachelorette parties crowding the bars below. It was fantastic!!
Dr. Kildare didn’t care to join, so my sis and I ventured up there alone on a Saturday afternoon….and were immediately welcomed into the leathery embrace of the local nudist scene. Wonderful people! We hadn’t been there more than 15 minutes when a hirsute, nude Burt Reynolds look-a-like showed up and offered us a hula-hoop; apparently, he’s THE naked hula hooper of the east coast, and has even given hula-hoop lessons to no less a personage than Kim Kardashian! We spent a pleasant hour or two hula hooping with him naked on the rooftop, chatting with other patrons and generally soaking up the vibe, and it was actually really cool.
For those considering a visit to the G of E, this was a Saturday afternoon in mid-February, and there were probably 5 nude women and maybe 7 nude men — a good mix! Not that it should (or DOES, to me) matter, but the other nude patrons were between the ages of maybe 30-60. Incidentally, my PET PEEVE is when people bitch about a nudist spot being “all naked old men.” If you’re a TRUE NUDIST, you’re not there to perv on anyone, anyway…so why would you care how old/what gender the other patrons are?!?!? Just get naked and be happy, for Dog’s sake!!!!
Anyway, after a few rum & Cokes, my sis and I got dressed and headed back down to join Dr. Kildare for the whole tourist shtick on Duval St — the dive bars, the souvenir shops, the treasure hunting museum….and the holy grail of mid-life-crisis-escapism, Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville!! (We have a Margaritaville here in Vegas, but it simply can’t compare to the Key West outpost; an even more heartbreakingly dull crowd of desperate, sunburned suburbanites drinking away their existential despair. Salud!)
But the most interesting interactions I had in Key West were with the locals: one night, taking the bus back from Duval St. to our campground, we encountered a group of local yokels who filled us in on the true Key West lifestyle: a sky-high cost of living based on a lucrative tourism-centric job market, where the biggest risk was contracting “Keys Disease…” which is an inability to/disinterest in work, due to the seductive allure of 11am margaritas and the classic Jimmy Buffett beach bum lifestyle. Apparently, Keys Disease affects MANY on the island….and if you can only avoid contracting it, you just might do OK.
Meanwhile, we were hearing all of this from a local ne’er’do’well on the 11pm bus back to Stock Key, which was full of down-at-heels unsavory types (people who can’t afford to live in Key West live on Stock Key). One of them asked what I did for a living, and when I answered “model,” the bearded bum seated in front of me slowly swiveled his head à la Linda Blair, affixing me with the most baleful, judgmental eye this side of Plymouth Rock!!! It was AMAZING — he put me in my place like no other, before or since.
In any event, however, even a hardworking sort can have a hard time making it in Key West — take this amazing biker couple we hung out with one day on one of the beaches. The woman was an acquaintance of mine from back in Vegas who had recently moved out to the Keys to enjoy a more unfettered lifestyle with her boyfriend — a burly, tough-guy-type biker who had traded in his Harley and given up the hardcore badass lifestyle of the West for a more laid-back, island approach.
But the islands aren’t always as mellow as they seem — his first rented room had turned out to be a partitioned cubby in a dilapidated trailer shared by a colorful lot of transsexuals and grifters, all presided over by a hard-nosed Taiwanese landlady who demanded $800 in rent for what amounted to a glorified plywood broom closet! He’d been “Key Wested,” he admitted ruefully…but now, older and wiser, he and his honey had found their own, private trailer in a gritty part of Stock Key known as Little Haiti, right down the street from Jolly’s Liquor shop, where my sister and I had sought refuge a few nights prior when temperatures dipped into the 50s and we needed some peppermint schnapps to fortify our convenience store hot cocoa around the campfire.
But for some, being “Key Wested” is apparently an adorably humbling experience; either way, our formidably tattooed, former badass-biker friend admitted to his honey having turned him into a “marshmallow…” and as we said goodbye to them after our conversation on the beach, and watched them pedal off down the sidewalk side-by-side on puffy-seated beach cruisers, it was hard to disagree. They told us they were saving up their wages to buy a sailboat, and sail away into the sunset together, forever. Awwwwwww!!!! <3 <3 <3
Anyway, I found the people of Key West to be absolutely fascinating — from the naked hula-hooper to the bums on the bus to the marshmallow biker, every person I met was genuine, friendly and wonderful, and I declare boldly and without reservation that I will definitely return at some point….I’m just not sure when. Everyone keeps telling me I need to go back for Fantasy Fest — a huge pre-Halloween carnival when something like 100,000 scantily-clad revelers descend on the island for a week of booze-soaked hijinks and merriment. It sounds absolutely fantastic, and it’s something I will definitely consider doing this fall….if I can find a free place to stay!!! If you have any leads or hookups, let me know…..I’m definitely interested!!! 😀
At the end of it all, Key West reminded me in a weird way of Vegas — both are escapist destinations fueled by drunken tourists dollars and the wholesale selling of baldfaced lies. One is surrounded by ocean, the other by desert….but both are basically islands, where a refugee can find safe harbor, so long as he has drinking money — or an entertaining enough shtick (ahem). Both have a way of getting the better of the down-and-out — you can bake to death on a beach, with a cirrhosed liver and an advanced case of melanoma…..or you can wither up on a barstool in front of a video poker machine in a dimly-lit casino; choose your poison!
As for me, I’ll just keep skating along…just out of reach of greedy landlords and emasculating girlfriends. I’ll take the west coast, though — I’ll never be truly Key Wested. But I’ll be honest; I might have already picked up a slight case of Keys Disease. I feel it in my bones….
Apologies, friends…..I haven’t had time yet to blog about my recent trip to Key West, Florida…nor about my hijinks at the Nevada Democratic Party’s Caucus…nor about my latest trip out to the Wonder Valley rave shack, where I danced naked with two rubber titties stuck to my asscheeks.
But I *DID* make time to film this promotional ad for my modeling business! Times have been tough lately, and I need to book some more photo shoots, ASAP…so check out my commercial, and CALL NOW!!! 😀
Just the other day I was naked as a jaybird, soaking in the warm winter sunshine at the Tecopa mudhole with two girls from Arkansas named Lisa — friends of mine who were in town to sell weapons at a gun show along with a third colleague, a beautiful blonde pageant queen named Savannah. Savannah, being somewhat less adventurous, had opted to stay back in town…but the Lisas had implored me in their honeyed Southern accents to “take us somewhere iiiinteresting!” They come to Vegas all the time, and were tired of the same old shit on the Strip; they wanted to see something different.
So I took them on a modified version of the Mojave Mystical Tour I’d gone on myself, back on New Year’s Day — we cruised out to the desert, stopping at Cathedral Canyon and the China Ranch Date Farm, before ending up in the sunshine at the good ol’ Tecopa wallow. We had a drink and a smoke, then laid back to bask in the winter sunshine with the usual collection of kooks and oddballs who frequent that lonely little soak: that day, our company included a poker player, a poet and a beautiful, busty Dutchwoman who only removed her bikini top once she saw that I was nakers (the Lisas, being nice Southern gals, kept their swimsuits on).
Also joining the crowd at the mudhole that day was a friendly retired couple from Montana who were traveling around Death Valley in a beautiful vintage Airstream trailer. When they saw my Wonderhussy-branded trucker hat, they were thrilled: “Oh, we watched your video last night when we were looking for stuff to do out here! That’s how we found this place!”
Come to find out, the poker player had also been to my site! It seems like everywhere I go lately, I run into people who have checked out this blog; it’s really cool…but also kinda weird, especially with that nice Montana couple, knowing that my ass and twat are plastered all over the place in between my hot springs reviews. I mean, I have no problem with nudity…and the rational part of my brain insists that no one should. But the sad fact of the matter is, some people are put off by nakedness. I don’t think the Montana couple was….but it made me wonder how many visitors to this site I alienate because of it.
In a weird Catch-22, however, I’m sure I lose even more visitors because there’s not enough nudity — my site isn’t porny enough to satisfy the likes of these pervs who stumble on me looking for stuff like this:
The fact is, I’m in a real existential quandary: these days, I get as much traffic from desert adventure seekers as I do from mouth-breathing “gost” porn fans…but to whom should I be marketing myself? I’m tired of being broke; I want to make some money off this bitch, already!
The whole mess is of my own doing — ever since I started blogging back in 2000, I’ve been posting nude/salacious photos to generate traffic, hoping that at least a few incoming pervs would stay to read the shit I write. And it’s worked; this blog generates a respectable amount of traffic on a daily basis. But the problem is, it’s tough to monetize.
Because of the nude photos, my blog is considered “adult” content, and thus ineligible for Google AdSense. But when I look at using one of the AdSense alternatives, the reality is disheartening: do you (or I) really want shitty webcam/escort service/penis pump ads popping up on my page?
I don’t! So for the past few years, the only money I’ve made from this blog is when someone hires me for a photo shoot, or when the occasional generous reader makes a donation — which is depressingly infrequent. Most of the time, I bust my hump posting this shit for nothing. It’s a labor of love….but love doesn’t pay the phone bill.
I’m caught between a rock and a hard place — the no-man’s land between Art and porn, and I need to shit or get off the pot! And so, rather than wading into the murky waters of porn…I’m caving. I hate to kowtow to the bourgeois moral code of the day…but I feel I have no choice.
I’ll continue to maintain this personal blog, for fun…but I’m also starting a new site, along with my sister, devoted exclusively to desert adventuring. This new site will be PG-13: no nips, no twats, no drugs…just 100% adventure tips. Yay!! Um….right?
You see, my sister and I have been traveling around exploring the kookiest depths of the desert for the last few years now, and my posts regarding these excursions have been among my most popular (incoming search terms notwithstanding). So in the depths of broke-ass desperation one day, I decided to try a little experiment, and bought the domain name LasVegasOutdoorAdventures.com, with the idea of turning it into a sort of guidebook for the Vegas visitor who wants to see more than just slot machines and shitty Elvis impersonators. I already have most of the content here on this site, under my “desert sites” and “nude modeling location guide” tabs; it should be fairly easy to sanitize it, re-format it, and post it up on the other page…and see what kind of traffic we get without the T&A.
At the same time, my sis and I aren’t idiots — we know sex sells, so we can’t be too bland. My sis thinks we need to come up with a more interesting, quirky brand name than “LasVegasOutdoorAdventures” — something with a broader appeal, that covers more territory but also makes us sound fun and interesting. (I suggested Twats R Us, Desert Poontang, and Ghost Town Vaginas…but she nixed them all. Sheesh!)
If you have any cool ideas for a name we should use, message me at firstname.lastname@example.org…I sincerely appreciate any and all input! In the meantime, please forgive me for slacking on this blog; I’ve been pouring all my time into writing shit for the other site, as well as hustling to pay my bills the old-fashioned way: with my twat, ass and nipples. Sometimes, it’s all a gal has to fall back on.
To than end, the weather is finally getting warm(ish) enough to where I can get back out into the desert and start doing my nude photo shoot tours again; this past week, I had a booking from a delightful photographer from back east, who had traveled to Vegas with another model, and hired me to take them out for one of my day tours in my busted-up pickup truck. I advised them that they should probably rent a car, as it would be a tight squeeze for the three of us in my Ford Ranger…but they insisted that part of the experience was being in my truck! So I picked them up at their hotel one morning, we all piled in….and off we went.
It turned out to be an absolutely fabulous day — unseasonably warm and sunny, with not a cloud in the wide, blue sky. We headed out past the last suburbs on the edge of Henderson and into the wide open desert — and they loved it!! I’ve lived here so long that I often forget how astonishing our wide-open vistas are to those from other parts of the country; to me, it’s just desert. But to many, it’s amazing…and I get a genuine thrill watching other people’s enthusiastic reactions to it 🙂
Our first stop was my favorite secret red sandstone location, a place with lots of caves and slot canyons with all kinds of interesting shapes and nooks and crannies to pose in. This location is so breathtakingly beautiful, that many photographers want to spend the entire day shooting there — it’s like Disneyland! But my clients this day had read about some of my other fabulous locations, and wanted to see more…so we headed on after only a couple of hours.
Along the way to the next location, by request of my passengers we stopped at a little warm spring out in the middle of nowhere. This place is a true oasis — in the middle of the vast, barren desert on the north shore of Lake Mead, a sudden cluster of palm trees and grasses appears out of nowhere, and there’s a beautiful little warm spring pond! This isn’t one of my regular soaking haunts, as the water is only about 80 degrees… and it’s not on my regular photo shoot rotation, either, as it’s not classic “desert”-type scenery. But it’s a beautiful spot, and totally surreal — like a tiny piece of Hawaii, in the middle of the desert. After the Martian-like landscape of the first location, it made for an interesting contrast — and we were lucky, as it was a weekday in January, and no one else was around. Usually, it would be tricky to shoot nudes here, as it’s a fairly popular stopping point for tourists…but this day, we had the place to ourselves 🙂
After posing in the waterfall for awhile, we headed on toward the next stop on the tour: the abandoned cement plant. This location is so dramatic and ginormous in scale that it pretty much blows everyone away, and my two passengers this day were no exception. As with the red sandstone location, a photographer could easily spend an entire day shooting here — the options are limitless!
But again, my clients wanted to push on and squeeze in one final location before sunset — the ever-popular dry lake bed. This is a classic desert landscape that every photographer and model wants in their portfolio, and these two were no exception. So just before sunset, we rolled out onto the desolate, cracked plain and banged out a few more shots before we lost the light completely and had to head back into town.
But…what a day! Total time elapsed: 8 hours, from pickup to drop-off. Total locations shot at: 4. Total photos taken: 100s! Total fun: UNQUANTIFIABLE! My passengers couldn’t emphasize enough to me how much fun they’d had, and the photographer in particular kept singing my praises as a tour guide, even more than as a model. It was really cool, and it made me feel really good about myself! I got to show these two a little bit of the awesomeness outside Vegas…I love doing that 🙂
And guess what? You, too, could have this experience! For the very reasonable price of $500, I will pick you up at your hotel, take you around to these same spots, and spend an average of 1.5 hours posing nude at each location before moving on. It’s a wonderful way to spend a day touring the desert; next time you’re in town for a convention or a conference, why not take an extra day and bring your camera? It’s either that or piss your $500 into a slot machine or the coffers of some douchebag celebrity chef!
Anyway, my experience playing tour guide on the photo shoot hearkened back to my experience earlier in the month, with the Lisas from Arkansas — I got the same satisfaction showing those two around the desert! After hitting the Tecopa mudhole, we headed on into Shoshone for a late lunch at a dusty little saloon called the Crowbar, which they absolutely loved. Just being in an area with no cell phone coverage was kind of a big deal for them — the sight of the old-school phone booth outside the Crowbar was a real novelty, LOL.
And after lunch at the Crowbar, we headed on back across the desert toward town, making one final stop at the summit of the mountain pass separating Vegas from Pahrump, to have a nightcap at one of my all-time favorite biker bars…a rustic old-time saloon nestled in a grove of Ponderosa pine, where I’d stopped off at the end of my previous Mojave Mystical Tour.
This time, the bartender remembered me….and introduced me and the Lisas to the owner, who bought us a round of shots. Uh oh! Before you know it, we had ordered another drink…and next thing one of the other grizzled locals came over: “Hey, do you girls wanna smoke some weed?” Hi-Yo!!!!!
As the designated driver, I couldn’t really smoke or drink much…but this didn’t really seem like something I could say no to, so we followed a group of the local mountain men up the hill behind the bar in the darkness to the converted chicken coop where this super-cool hardcore rock climber lived; one of those guys who lives for climbing. He was around 60 years old, and his entire cabin was basically a shrine to climbing — gear hanging ALL over every wall, with nothing but folding camp chairs and ashtrays for furniture, and a climbing movie on silent repeat on the TV.
The Lisas, being in the self-defense industry, were a bit apprehensive at being locked in some converted chicken coop in the woods with a bunch of burly mountain men and nothing but sinister S&M-looking climbing gear all over the walls…but it turned out great! We all hung out and socialized, and the climber guy in particular turned out to be super cool! He told me his whole life story, how he was in something like 23 foster homes by the age of 14, and how learning to rock climb at one of those summer outdoors programs for troubled youth basically saved his life; the state sponsored him on a climbing trip to Mt. Thor on Baffin Bay one summer, which he had to take a dogsled for two weeks to reach, and it basically changed his whole outlook on everything, and fueled his lifelong passion for the outdoors and for climbing. He had a really cool philosophy about climbing and life and everything, and I really enjoyed talking to him!
Even better, he said that any time I happen to be up there at that saloon, I don’t have to worry about drinking and driving; it’s a long, winding road back down the mountain to Vegas, so usually I limit myself to just one or two drinks up there, even when there’s a rip-roaring party going on and I’d like nothing more than to get royally shitfaced…but now, I have a standing invitation to crash out in the hammock on the front porch of the chicken coop cabin any time I want. Hells, yeah!!
Anyway, that’s the reality of my life: nudity, drugs, booze, cussing….and adventure!! Monetization or not, never fear… I will continue to blog about it here at wonderhussy.com as long as I can — you can count on that! No matter how many others sites I start, you can guarantee that my twat, ass and nipples will continue to grace the pages of this website until they put me out to pasture — and you can take that to the bank!
Meanwhile, alas….the number of twat, ass, nipple and porn references in this blog entry alone is probably gonna garner a whole new legion of clicks from horny pervs. And to them I say, WELCOME! And….