Wonderhussy

Halloween is almost here, and it’s a very stressful time of year for me. Which costumes to choose? And which parties to attend??! I can’t BEAR the thought of missing anything really cool, so please let me know if there’s anything I should know about. My only solid plan so far is to make the 2nd Annual Las Vegas Halloween Parade downtown…everything else, I’m open. (And DON’T say Fetish & Fantasy Ball…I went last year, and that thing sucked balls. Highly overrated!)

Anyhoo, in keeping with the spirit of the season I decided to do a “Día de los Muertos” photo shoot with my dear friend Randy Fosth a/k/a Shutterbug-Studio. If you don’t know, Día de los Muertos is a Mexican celebration on the day after Halloween, where they remember their dead by painting crazy and colorful skulls…kinda like my makeup in the above pic. (Side note: I TOTALLY dig the crazy Mexican aesthetic…all the crazy colors and creepy religious iconography is right up my alley!)

Anyhoo, I underestimated the time it would take me to do the makeup, so I was around 2 hours late to our shoot. But thankfully, Randy was so taken with my look that he didn’t mind. We shot a few different looks for a couple hours, and it was fabulous. It always is!

But that wasn’t the only photo shoot I did this week. I also went downtown Sunday night to the Brass Lounge, which is right across the street from my new favorite hangout, the Heart Attack Grill (more on that later). Anyhoo, every Sunday night there’s a big modeling party at Brass Lounge, and they invite a bunch of scantily-clad “models” and put up lighting equipment and a stage on the balcony overlooking the Fremont Street Experience (the covered pedestrian mall area).

Anyhoo, you know how it is: it was Sunday night, I was tired from a long day, and I had just eaten a ginormous burrito for dinner. I did NOT feel like strapping myself into a sexy outfit and going down there! But I really like the people who run Brass Sundays and I wanted to support them, so I made myself get up and go in my closet and rummage around for something to wear. As you can see, I came up with this sexy Slash ensemble. Back in the day I was a huuuuge Guns ‘N’ Roses fan — my poor, long-suffering mom had to take my sister and I to see them play one time at the Oakland (CA) Coliseum, along with Metallica and Body Count (I was only 15; it was my first concert, LOL).

Anyhoo, my enjoyment of Slash in particular has been tempered somewhat over the years, especially since I saw him at the freaking CELINE DION show one time about 7 years ago. Slash, no!!!!! You just killed your rock-n-roll cred! But I still dig his look, and thought it would make for some cool pics. So I slapped it together and headed downtown.

The way it works, is they have some scantily-glad go go dancers bouncing around on the stage on the balcony, and while photographers blast away taking pics, the others wave and holler at passers-by, trying to get them to come up and do a photo shoot. All are welcome, and it’s a genuinely fun time! They’re having a Halloween party on Sunday the 30th…guess I should attend that, too!

Anyhoo, I channeled my inner Man for this shoot and asked all the go go babes to come up and pose with me. Now I know what it feels like to be a man — and I LIKE IT! Fuck that subservient weaker sex shit — I’m changing teams…when I save up enough money, that is.

Meantime, I’m still a woman…and alllllll woman, at that. I haven’t shaved or even groomed my bush since returning from Burning Man…and boy is it ever gnarly! Any photographers who wanna shoot some old-school 70s porn nudes, hit me up! It looks FANTASTIC! So fantastic, in fact, that the other day some random guy invited me to an ABC party, to be held at the “sick” mansion of some local porn producer. I didn’t know what “ABC” stood for, but after I’d already left the house I learned that it means “Anything But Clothes…” as in, costumes. Since I’d already left my house for the day, I figured I’d just borrow a pair of giant 70s sunglasses from work (we use prop glasses when we shoot the Captain Fantastic show)  and go nude, as a 1970s porn star. Boy would THAT have freaked out those porn poseurs!!! Alas, however, the flaky douchebag who invited me never texted me back with the address…until I had already gone home, eaten a medicinal cookie and changed into my PJs. There’s no WAY I’m going out after that! WARNING: if you want me to attend your party, GIVE ME THE DETAILS IN A TIMELY MANNER! I’m a busy woman; I don’t have time to sit around waiting.

Anyway, back to the highjinks at the Brass Lounge. Since I was down there anyway, I stopped in at the Heart Attack Grill to say hello to Dr. Jon and Nurse Tracy, two of my new favorite people. Their restaurant has been open almost a week now, and they hired all these young waitresses in slutty nurse dresses…but not to be outdone, Nurse Tracy (the head nurse) altered her own comfy scrubs into short-shorts!! LOL! She’s got the legs for it, too.

Anyhoo, business was booming, but that didn’t stop Doktor Jon from inviting me in for some shots and conversation. He’s a great host! He also invited me to the Today Show’s live taping down there Wednesday morning at 4am…he said I should dress in one of his nurse costumes or something and just be crazy in the background. As much as I want to be on the Today Show (America needs me), 4am is a brutal calltime. Still, I told him I’d do it if he really wants me to. I will sack up for that!

I hung out with Doktor Jon for quite awhile, but around 1am I had to head out — I’d had a loooong day! It started with me rolling my groggy over-medicated ass out of bed around 11am to head out to suburbia, to film new videos for my medical fetish website. I’ve spoken of this site before — it’s insane! The work is fairly easy, but to get to the guy’s house I have to drive ALLLLLLLLLL the way to the edge of the world — he lives way the fuck out on the southern edge of town, nearly in California, in this super-upscale gated community of McMansions and golf courses. Driving there is like riding the Stepford Wives ride at Univeral Studios — everything is overly manicured and well-kept, totally at odds with my beloved downtown Vegas. But it’s interesting all the same — and if the neighbors only know what was going on, it would be a scandal! And I looooooooooooooove me some scandal!!

Anyhoo, this time we filmed some stuff with me hooked up to all kinds of EKG electrodes (see pic above), doing sit-ups and holding my breath and whatnot. WEIRD! Then, for the belly-noise fans, we did a clip of me recording my stomach gurgles. For these clips, the more growling and gurgling the better…so the webmaster/videographer/silent partner in the site offered me the contents of his fridge. I decided to eat a couple of garlic-stuffed olives, which I figured would digest loudly when paired with a carton of blueberry yogurt and washed down with a cherry Coke Zero. Success!! My stomach went BALLISTIC!!! Can’t wait for the downloads to start rolling in….

After updating the medical fetish site, I next cruised clear across the valley over to the far western reaches of Red Rock Canyon, where every Sunday afternoon a bunch of local hippies hold a drum circle — excuse me, a “spiritual music circle” — in this little grove of trees near Oak Creek. I *LOVE* me a good drum circle, and I’ve been to some doozies! The best was probably that one I participated in at Burning Man this past summer (it was held at the Temple, at sunset on Friday night; if anyone has pics and/or video, please let me know)! I also went to a REALLY cool one on Baker Beach in San Francisco one time about 10 years ago. But this Vegas drum circle is pretty freaking sweet, too!

To get there, you drive allllll the way out west past the last casinos, out past Red Rock National Conservation Area (an area of astonishing natural beauty; if you happen to be visiting Vegas you should definitely check it out). You park at the side of the highway and then hike down a gravel trail toward this grove of oak trees in the shadow of the towering red rock mountains. The scenery is mind-blowingly beautiful, like a movie or something. But the best part is the SOUND — at first, all you hear is the crunch-crunch-crunch of gravel underfoot…but as you get closer, the drumming gets louder and louder… until you finally come upon a gathering of kooks and bohemians banging away on various percussion devices, in a circle under a tree. There’s usually a few didgeridoos, flutes and shakers floating around adding to the din, and without fail some half-baked weed-addled hippie will get up at some point and start chanting/moaning/throat singing/wailing. IT’S GOOOOOOOOOOOOD TIMES!!!! I have a video of the action, but I couldn’t find it on my hard drive and I couldn’t figure out how to upload it from my Facebook page…so you’ll just have to take my word for it that this is BAD ASS. Anyone ever wants to go, hit me up…I’ll take you!

So anyhoo, after breath-holding and drumming all day, I went and ate the aforementioned ginormous burrito (I <3 Chipotle!), drank a bunch of wine, and was ready to pass out…but I MADE myself get up and go do that Brass Lounge and Heart Attack Grill stuff! So you can see why I was so tired that day. And even then, I missed out on a bunch of fun stuff I wanted to do. There’s only one of me, but so many parties…. 🙁

Now speaking of busy days, I had another one last week, with one of my all-time best friends, my journalist pal Phil Connors! You might recall how a few months ago I went on “Name That Tune” at the Imperial Palace, a live stage version of the old game show where you can actually win $10,000. As you may recall, I came THISCLOSE to winning, having beaten everyone else in the theater to be the final contestant, at which point they give you 60 seconds to correctly identify 15 songs. But thanks to some bum advice from the audience, I lost 🙁

Well, a transvestite friend of mine gave me some free passes for the show, so I could go back and try again. I waited a suitable length of time, so they wouldn’t remember me, and even considered wearing a disguise…but then someone told me that it doesn’t matter; you can play as many times as you want! So I asked Phil, who is usually up for wacky shit like that, if he would accompany me. He used to be a rock music critic, so he knows music more than most people I know — I figured he could play, too, or at least be a solid lifeline in the event that I became stumped again. Thank dog, Phil agreed at once!

Well, everything went according to plan. We got there and signed up, and the P.A. in charge of the waivers remembered me right away and wished me luck. Then, when the hosts of the show came onstage (Zowie Bowie and Marley Taylor), singing their schlocky little intro song, Zowie Bowie saw me out there and busted up laughing in the middle of his song! He broke character to welcome me back, saying that I made his day by being there. Woohoo! (As you may recall, I ended up flipping everyone off at the end of the last time I played…evidently very memorable!) They were also totally stoked to see Phil Connors, as they have been interviewed by him before for his column in the paper…and they are ALWAYS on the lookout for more publicity!

Anyhoo, like I said, everything went according to plan. I blew through all the rounds, vanquishing the opposition with a carefully calculated combination of strategy and knowledge, and then it was me again, alone onstage facing a huge 60-second timer. The pressure was on! This time, you could tell the game show peeps were totally rooting for me — they really WANTED me to win that $10,000! So far, since they’ve started doing the show, only ONE person has won — so they reeeeeally wanted to give me that ca$h! I got the first 4 or 5 songs right off the bat, but the 5th or 6th one was tricksy — I had no idea, so I asked the audience again. THIS time they were more reliable — one guy said it was “Sentimental Lady” by Joe Walsh…but ANOTHER guy said with an equal degree of certainty that it was “Sentimental Woman” by Joe Walsh. Arrrrrrrgh!!! I vacillated back and forth, biting my nails in agony…but finally went with “Sentimental Lady” because it just sounded more 70s.

CORRECT!!! WOOOOOOOO-HOOOOOOOOOOO! I screamed and yelled and made a general ass of myself, and the game went on. I ended up having to use my “pass” on the 8th or 9th song (some Justin Timberlake b.s.), but amazingly (and with the help of the game show staff) I kept getting right answers! I even pulled a Hail-Mary Moody Blues song out of my ass at the 11th hour — I had to grab the mic from Zowie Bowie and sing the entire first verse to remember how the chorus went, and then the title came to me: “The Story in Your EYES!!!!!” CORRECT!!!!!!

But alas, I finally tripped up on the 12th song — some shitty shit by some shit-ass band of shitsters called 30 Seconds to Mars (?!?!?! WTF!). I was desperate, looking out into the audience for clues — but even Phil Connors had no idea. Fuck! So I lost, AGAIN, with only 3 more songs to go! ARRRRRRRRRGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Everyone was freaking out from the excitement, though, and it was a lot of fun. After the show, Zowie Bowie asked me when I’m coming down to party and “sing” with them at the lounge show they do every weekend at another casino…I said, “Sing?! Are you NUTS? I’ll clear out the entire lounge!” So he amended his invite to simply “party,” and I told Phil Connors we should totally go! But Phil covers the nightclub beat nowadays, so his nights are mostly taken up trolling the depths of endless lame-ass douchey clubs down on the Strip. Boo!

Anyhoo, after the excitement of Name That Tune, Phil and I went next door to the Flamingo, where Jimmy Buffet just happened to be celebrating the grand opening of his brand new Margaritaville Casino (not to be confused with his Margaritaville restaurant, which has been here for years). Now they’ve built an entire CASINO around his laid-back barefoot boozer shtick.

To celebrate, some PR genius decided Jimmy should pour the World’s Largest Margarita into a giant novelty cup in an alleyway between O’Shea’s and Margaritaville, which they block off every year for the Jimmy Buffett block party. Thanks to Phil Connors’s media juice, we got a sweet spot atop the press dais, overlooking all the hijinks. It was crazy! I’m not a huge Buffett fan…but I do dig his fans. They sure know how to party!

Anyway, after that Phil and I went next door to O’Shea’s, this shitty little dive bar/casino that caters to the college crowd and is somehow centrally located at the Four Corners of the Vegas Strip, right next to the Flamingo and across from Caesars Palace. Such prime real estate can’t be wasted on Beer Pong, cheap drinks and punk rock lounge bands forEVER…so of course, the dumbass Caesars corp. is tearing it down to make way for some stupid new retail/dining promenade with the re-cock-ulous name of Linq. WTF?! I LOVE O’Shea’s!!! I’m not big on frat mooks and beer pong, but I AM big on cheap drinks and unpretentious atmo — and O’Shea’s has ’em both in shades! My friend Brian, the #1 Little Person in Vegas, works out front as a leprechaun, and there’s a badass punk rock lounge band with a SMOKING HOT bass player (yoo hoo!) in the bar area. In sum, it’s a fan-fuckin-tastic place to party…so if you’ve never been, get thee there ASAP before it’s gone!

I’m so fired up over the impending loss of O’Shea’s, in fact, that I Tweeted about it: something to the effect of “I’ve had it with corporate greed! We must stop the corporations from tearing down my favorite dive bar… #occupyosheas!” Of course, that just pissed off the serious Occupy Wall Street protesters, who gave me some flack on Twitter over it…but the good people of O’Shea’s appreciated it, and even re-Tweeted it for me! I think it’s a GREAT idea…all us hippies ain’t changing shit down on Wall Street, so we might as well form a human chain around a dive bar.

Now, speaking of the #Occupy movement, they had another protest down here on Saturday afternoon. You might recall that last week I went to the big Occupy Las Vegas protest march on the Strip…and felt mixed emotions. Well, this time they took the protest to my beloved Fremont Street downtown (!!), so of course I suited up and dragged out my sign again. This time, instead of dressing down in jeans, I decided to strike back at claims of anti-Americanism among the protesters by wearing an American flag halter and snow-white Daisy Dukes. What could be more patriotic than THAT? I called it my Ass Offensive — ya can’t reason with ’em, but maybe they can be swayed by succulent asscheeks.

Anyhoo, this protest was a LOT more fun than the one on the Strip — the crowd of tourists down there is more blue-collar/trailer park, so they weren’t as hostile toward our anti-Man ranting. Plus, the setting was 100X more surreal — I’ve seen the news footage of the protests in New York, Rome, Santiago, etc….but did any of THOSE protesters carry plastic footballs full of piña colada? And did any of THOSE protesters have to weave and dodge wackos in Elvis costumes, while fat tourists whizzed overhead on a zip line? I didn’t think so!!

The best part was marching past Glitter Gulch, the tacky topless bar down there that always stations one or two beat-up Eastern European whores out front to lure in customers. One of the whores was leaning on the doorjamb in her corset, chatting bemusedly with one of the big, beefy security guards as they watched us pass. It was like a scene straight out of Deadwood!

The march went on and was pretty powerful — moreso than last week’s effort on the Strip, for sure. Some nutty drummers from the drum circle crowd brought a big-ass bass drum, which they pushed on a cart, beating in time as we all chanted “Banks got bailed out — we got SOLD out!” (I did join in the chanting this time, as that aforementioned slogan is one I can more or less endorse without laughing.) Anyhoo, everything was going along swimmingly until the Fremont Street Experience (TM) cops had enough, and drowned us out by blaring “Funkytown” on the PA. People come downtown to party, not to politic!

The best part of the march was this one über-hot young Commie stud marching next to me, Che Guevara pins on his backpack as he fiercely strummed a ukulele covered in anti-Man stickers. He was like the downsized Bob Dylan, LOL!!! Occasionally, he would pull an air horn out of his back pocket, and give everyone a wake-up blast…but I was already wide awake, and drunk on his pheromones. Anyone knows who he was, let me know!

So anyhoo, lest you think ALL I did this week was party, there you have it — I protested, too! Also, one afternoon I went down to the Las Vegas Museum of Natural History, where a friend who works there gave me a personal tour of the amazing grounds and collections. That’s actually a BAD ASS museum! It’s one of those musty-smelling old places full of taxidermied wild animals and stuff, and it would be reeeeeeeeally fun to get baked one rainy day and go down there. The best part was the new Egyptian wing, cobbled together out of leftovers from when the Luxor hotel de-Egyptified itself (how does a pyramid un-theme itself, I ask you? Nonetheless, they tried to re-brand themselves in a hipper, more anti-family vein. Arrrrrgh).

The tour was awesome, but I had to leave after a couple hours because I had a hot date at the tiki bar with another writer I just met on a dating site. We had some drinks and shot the shit until it was time for me to go shoot the real shit, at the Captain Fantastic show, where I’ve been toiling all week taking souvenir photos, in between all this other stuff. No wonder I can’t sleep — I do too much fun stuff!!!! But I can’t HELP it! How can I turn this shit down?!

Oh, and one other thing. In my travels this week, someone invited me to be their dominatrix! I won’t say who, but a prominent local figure told me that he was tired of being the boss and telling everyone ELSE what to do…so he more or less invited me to abuse him and boss him around! Nice! This isn’t the first time that’s happened to me — I once did a fetish shoot with a lieutenant from Metro, who said the same thing: he’s respected and feared all day, so he finds a little belittlement therapeutic now and then. Weird! Domming is big business, though…I even thought about building a dungeon in my basement once, and taking clients. But then I realized I wouldn’t want these people knowing where I lived…so I gave up. Maybe I should get back into my boots and rethink it!

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