Covered in Warm, Melty Peanut Butter

I thought I was done with the porn convention when I left that late-night BDSM afterparty up in the Hard Rock penthouse early Sunday morning. WRONG! Apparently, there were a few stragglers left in town…so I was able to pick up a little extra work on Monday in the form of a suuuuper-fabulous

One of my enterprising new girlfriends needed a last-minute replacement to join her in a foot fetish video she was shooting for some website out of SoCal, so of course I said yes. Foot fetish is easy stuff — usually just having your toes sucked by some professional loser (yes, there are guys who perform as the “loser” for a living…and who really enjoy their work!). She didn’t have many details, so I just threw some sexy stockings and hi heels and whatnot in a bag, and made my way over to the Alexis Park Resort, where the shoot was taking place in one of the rooms at that esteemed property.

It turned out to be fairly straightforward, easy work: the conceit was that my friend and I were bitchy sorority girls hanging out in our hotel room, getting ready for a hot date with some frat boys. I call the front desk to demand they send up a bartender to mix us our drinks, so they send up this shlubby room service attendant, sweating profusely, who nervously makes us drinks which we promptly spit in his face, telling him they are TERRIBLE and that he’s a total loser, and we’re gonna call the front desk and report him to the manager unless he worships our feet!

So then about 10 minutes of garden-variety foot worship follow, with the poor shlub licking our shoes and stockings and stuff, and then finally we invite him to be our sorority houseboy — IF he can handle us kicking him in the balls a few times each! (This is all per the script, such as it was…I’m a lover, not a fighter, and I don’t like hurting people, even when they profess to enjoy it).

So the poor idiot gets down on the ground, and I kick him. “CUT!!!!!” Apparently I fucked up: “You have to REALLY kick him — HARD!” “Oh…OK.” Take 2: “BAM!!!” Then my girlfriend: “BAM!!” “CUT!! Hey, would you girls be OK if he took his pants off…so the fans can see that he’s not cheating by wearing a cup or anything?”

“Uhhhh…sure!” I did something similar to this once, where the guy only wore boxer briefs…so I assumed this would be the same thing. Camera rolling, I tell him “If you want to be our houseboy, loser, you better take your pants off so I can make sure you’re not cheating and wearing a cup!!” And ON CAMERA, he took off his pants AND his underwear!!!

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwww!

I swear, I will never forget the sound of that poor guy’s nasty-ass dangling nutsack whapping against the shiny black patent leather toe of my high heel. *Shuddddddder!* So we each kick him a couple more times, and then step over his prone figure as we head out to our “hot date” with the frat boys. Goooooooooood times — and easy money. If not somewhat grosser than my normal work. (I assure you, I went home and boiled those high heels!)

So, right after that shoot I headed across town to the west side, to shoot a clip for Wam-O-rama.com, which is a Wet and Messy site featuring girls being covered in slime, goo, chocolate, etc. I had run into the producer of this site at the AVN Expo (when I was doing my angel wings thing) and he asked if I’d be OK being covered in peanut butter for a clip. YUM!!! Say no more, boss — I’m there!

So I go over to the condo where this guy does his shoots — bare bones decor, except for a kiddie pool surrounded by video and lighting equipment. He microwaved a gallon or so of creamy peanut butter, and I sat in the kiddie pool in a lovely bra and panty set, and proceeded to schmear the warm, melty peanut butter allllll over my skin — face, too!! Everywhere that wasn’t covered by the bra and panties (he did allow me to spare my hair, thank Dog).

Then I peeled off the bra and panties, revealing a bare-skin “tan line” that apparently really sets off the wet and messy fetishists. But I soon smeared the peanut butter all over that, too…so soon, I was totally covered in warm, melty peanut butter. YUM!!

Next, I grabbed one of those jumbo-sized Hershey’s chocolate syrup bottles, and proceeded to pour THAT all over atop the peanut butter. Normally, there is no dialogue in these clips…but for this one, he wanted me to say, ‘Ooops! There’s chocolate in my peanut butter!” LOL! I’m sure there’s a SAG award in my near future for that.

Finally, the producer poured a second jumbo-sized bottle of Hershey’s all over me — hair included — and then finished it off with about 5 tubs of Cool Whip. TRIPLE YUM!!! O my god, I love all three of those things, especially together. It was so hard not to lick it all off myself, but I maintained my professionalism, haha. Incidentally, the clip isn’t up on his site yet, so I don’t have any screen grabs to show you yet. These pics are from another shoot I did with him, last year.

Anyhoo, after the Cool Whip pies were thrown at me, I rubbed it all in, allllll over my body, and then rolled around in it like a piggy, for good measure. And that was it! The easiest money I ever made — until it was time to wash it off. O…M….G — you try washing off a gallon of peanut butter!! I was in that shower for 45 minutes, scrubbing and scraping and finally using dishwashing soap to cut thru the peanut butter. But I got it all off, and was none the worse for wear. They say peanut oil is good for the skin 🙂

So after that, the porn people scurried out of Vegas, back into their caves in the San Fernando Valley, and Vegas settled back down to normal. Well, as normal as it gets around here. I tried to have a nice, highbrow night of intellectual stimulation by going to the new Smith Center to hear a talk by Ray Kurzweil (a futurist who is always preaching about the Singularity — a time when technology will overtake human ability, and man and computer will become one…projected to occur around 2047, if current trends continue).

The Smith Center is Vegas’s classy new performance arts venue — a shwanky art-deco behemoth downtown by the railyard, home to bourgeois PBS-style affairs like Itzhak Perlman concerts and David Sedaris readings. You know…white people heaven. They also showcase a lot of low-brow dreck masquerading as high-brow art in the form of my most loathed of all art forms…Broadway musicals (SHUDDDDDER) (yes, Broadway musicals make me shudder even more than the sound of a bare nutsack slapping on the toe of my shoe).

Aaaaaanyhoo, this night it was featuring a talk by Ray Kurzweil, and every futuristic nerd, atheist and science dork in Vegas was in attendance (along with some season-ticket-holders who looked disgruntled and bored throughout the talk, like they were waiting for Kurzweil to break into song and dance and were confused when he did not) (I can see it now: “SINGULARITY! The Musical”). I got there before my friends, so hung out in the lobby watching wave upon wave of earnest, tweedy white people come pouring in. Bow ties! Wool! Beards!!! I myself bucked the trend by going commando and wearing fake eyelashes (I had a photo shoot scheduled immediately afterward)…but I still felt like a pretentious twat, truth be told. I have problems taking stuff seriously!

The best part about the performance (other than Kurzweil and his kooky ideas, which I wholeheartedly endorse and take great comfort in) was the fact that the bar serves wine in these classy little sippy cups! (I jacked a couple for future use at Burning Man.) Also, the box seats (where I was sitting) have these little order forms for Intermission, so you can get your drink orders in ahead of the crowd and keep your buzz going. Is this commonplace at performing Arts venues? Or are we in Vegas just total degenerate boozers???

After the talk was over, my friends were all headed downtown to the trendy East Fremont district for Thai food and cocktails, and I would have loved to have kept up the classy vibe and joined them…but alas, I had this nude photo shoot to get to down on Boulder Highway. If you know anything about Vegas, you know that Boulder Highway is about as far from the Smith Center (geographically and culturally) as it gets — so my foray into the classy life ended prematurely, as I slunk back to my truck and hauled ass across town to a motel room, where a photographer awaited with a fox tail, which he stuck it to my ass with rubber cement, and photographed me romping around nude, furry-style. !!!! The photographer actually turned out to be a very nice man, and he even took me out for dinner at the finest bar on Boulder Highway afterward…so there, East Fremont!

Now, speaking of East Fremont, this is a part of downtown Vegas that is being gentrified to cater to hipsters: there’s still good old Fremont Street proper, with its garish neon canopy, legions of crack hos, drunks, costumed street performers and winos….but if you walk too far east, toward where it turns into (of all things) Boulder Highway…they’ve started renovating it, with all these trendy bars and food trucks and whatnot. I’m on the fence: I live downtown, so it’s in my best interest to clean up all the crime and grunge and stuff…but on the other hand, I like the grunge, and I don’t want to live in Portland, OR or San Francisco! It’s the eternal dilemma for someone like me: I’m basically a hipster who insists that I’m not a hipster!!!

So the other night, I had a date with a guy I’ve known for quite some time, and we agreed to meet up at this new bar that just opened down there, Commonwealth. I’d been eyeing this new spot suspiciously ever since it opened — the facade screams pretentious hipsterville, and there’s even a velvet rope and some mookish bouncers out front. (You never used to see that shit downtown — downtown used to be the refuge from shit like that, which was confined to the Strip.) But, I was curious…and I heard it had a really badass rooftop patio with hot drinks (I love hot cocktails)…so I gave it a chance.

Here is the link to my Yelp review of the place. SHOCKER! I didn’t care for it!! I found it overpriced, pretentious, and full of people who were trying too hard. (Yes, yes, I know…I am one of them). Plus, it was really loud in there, and I really strained my vocal chords just trying to carry on a convo with my date — which was a shame, because he had some really interesting stuff to tell me. Worse, the rooftop patio was closed for indeterminate reasons, and they weren’t serving anything off the hot menu. BOO! I settled for a specialty drink they call The Dude Abides, which is basically a jazzed-up White Russian with a bourbon-infused cherry garnish…which they forgot to put in the damn drink. And they call themselves mixologists?! I would have been better off across the street at the good old El Cortez, where I’d have paid half the price and been able to carry on a conversation, while being comfortably surrounded by degenerate gamblers and bluehairs instead of twee dickheads in ascots and Morrissey glasses! Caveat Hussy!!

The only good thing about Commonwealth, in my opinion, was the DJ — instead of your typical douchewad, he looked like a child moslesting children’s party clown. Yay for busting stereotypes!!

Aaaanyway, after all that Vegas nonsense, I figured it was high time I got out of town and out into my beloved Mojave Desert, which I haven’t been doing enough of lately. A new friend of mine invited me to check out these hot springs down near Hesperia, CA…and they are fantastic!!! Click here to see my Facebook photo album of the trip. Basically, you drive down the 15 from Vegas for about 4 hours to Apple Valley, just outside Victorville, and follow a dirt road out to this guy’s private ranch, where you pay $5 to park at the trailhead (you can go a different way that is free, but then it’s an EIGHT MILE walk to the hot springs, so just choke up the cash, I say). Then you walk down a sandy trail into this valley, for about two miles, at the bottom of which are the hot springs, in a BEAUTIFUL natural setting. I love natural hot springs — none of that resort shite for me!

The best part about this hike is…to get to the springs, you have to wade across this FREEEEZING icy-cold river that separates the springs from the trail. There’s no two ways about it — you just sack up and ford the fucker! The day I went out there it was in the 30s, and there were still patches of snow on the ground…so the water was reeeeeally cold, but I did it anyway. My legs and feet were burning by the time I got to the other side, but thankfully the hot springs are right there, and you can jump in and warm up quick. We spent about an hour or so soaking in the various pools, chatting with the other hippies and oddballs out there. Come to find out, unlike other hot springs, there are no flesh-eating bacteria in these waters, and you can drink them right from the source! They say there are trace amounts of lithium in the waters, so if you drink it, you get an extra boost of happiness. I took a few sips, but I was already so stoked to be out in the desert on a beautiful Monday afternoon when all the working shlubs of the world were sitting at their desks, that it didn’t help much 🙂

Anyway, after about an hour, the sun was starting to go down so we figured we’d better bite the bullet and get back out into the cold, ford that fuckin’ freezing river again (this time, no hot springs waiting on the other side), and hike back up to the car. There is a beautiful sandy beach down by the springs, perfect for an overnite bonfire…but camping is not allowed 🙁 BOO! Now that the weather’s starting to get nice again, I have a major itch to go camping again!

Here’s a video of me fording the stream on the way back:

BRRRRRRR!!!!! It took about an hour to hike back up the two miles to the car (not crazy-steep; my friend has asthma and he was able to do it), and then at the top one of the guys from the springs was playing his ukelele in the parking area, watching the sunset. Fabulous!!!! I love shit like that!! 🙂 What a great day.

Meanwhile, back in Vegas, all the usual shit went on. I did a photo shoot at the MGM Grand one afternoon, but this time not as the model — as a stylist!! Someone had contacted me on Yelp asking if I knew any photographers who could do a pinup-type boudoir shoot in their room, and if I could come along with some of my costumes and props and whatnot to help out. I hit up my friend Billy Ward, and it was fantastic!! We had so much fun — I helped the model curl her hair and figure out her wardrobe, then helped with posing…and even jumped in a few of the pics as a second model, haha. Good times! If you are coming to Vegas and this sounds like fun, hit us up — we’ll come to your room, at your convenience, with lighting and everything, and you’ll get some badass professional-quality images for your trouble. Our rates are very reasonable!

Then another night, I came home after working at the nightclub, and recorded this little gem. Just for fun!! I was trying to go for a creepy Miss Havisham-y vibe…but at least you can see the fabulous costume I wear for work:

Also, my alter-ego/boyfriend Johnny Areola got a hair up his ass!!! It seems he was fooling around with me one night, and found an RFID chip planted in my ass…and now he’s wise to what’s going on: OBAMACARE is taking over the nation! Damn Socialists are trying to turn us into a nation of pansies, etc. etc. etc. He got all riled up, changed his name to Johnny Freedom, and started cleaning his guns and listening to AM talk radio all day. Now he won’t shut up about the Second Amendment, deer, home intruders and tyrannical governments. It’s a riot!! You should follow him on Facebook, if you want to keep up with his cray-cray antics. Gooooooooooood times

Finally, here’s an oldie but a goodie. I can’t remember if I posted this pic at the time, but about 6 months ago the idiots I used to work for at the photo company accidentally cut me this ginormous paycheck, LOL! I am an exceedingly honest person, so of course I turned right around and went in to inform them of their error…but they were total assholes about it, and made me take the pic down from Facebook and everything. So now that I don’t work for those fuckers anymore…here it is!!!!! Fuckers!!!!! I wish I had cashed it….I’d be on a beach in Mexico right this very moment.

Oh well.

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