The Girl’s Guide to Being A Fetish Model

This week, Queen Sally Dingdong made her triumphant return to the showroom at the hotel where I work, back from her palatial estate in Florida, or Botox camp, or wherever the hell she was. All I care about is the fact that I FINALLY got to get off the Carousel of the Damned, and stop working all these awful little nickel-and-dime shows around town where I’ve been making $30-$40 per night. Say what you will about Madame Dingdong — she has a rabid fanbase and they don’t mind spending their hard-earned francs on souvenir photos. So I’ve actually been making decent money at my camera girl job lately!

Unfortunately for this blog, that means I haven’t had to hustle quite as hard for random odd gigs. Still, I did spend one DOOZY of a day shooting videos for a sock-worship website on Monday…and this alone was interesting enough to fill a whole blog.

Now, some of you have already heard me blather on and on about the various types of fetish videos I’ve shot, and you’re probably sick to death of hearing about it. But for many others, this is new and exciting…so I’m going to make this blog “The Girl’s Guide to Being a Fetish Model.” Ready? OK!

Basically, fetish modeling involves shooting soft-core (often fully-clothed) niche pornography catering to various splinter kinks, ranging from foot fetish to FemDom to farting. Everyone has their hot buttons, and I’ve come to find out that people are turned on by some VERRRY strange things. But who am I to judge? My motto is, as long as no one’s being hurt (unless it’s someone who WANTS to be hurt), there is no moral wrong in shooting these types of content. It’s allllll in good fun!

I first got involved in fetish modeling back in October of ’08. I had just broken up with a long-time boyfriend, with whom I had bought a house (at the worst possible time, during the real estate bubble here in Vegas). Well, he bailed on me and the house, which was in my name, so now I had to bust my ass to make my obscene mortgage payment every month. As you know by now, my camera girl job just ain’t gonna cut it…so I had to explore other avenues.

I was surfing craigslist in a rather disconsolate mood, despairing at the lack of tradeshow hostessing and promo modeling gigs (this was the depths of the Recession, and such gigs no longer flowed as freely) when I made the leap. Back in those days, craigslist had a separate section for Adult Gigs (since shut down due to some unfortunate murders). Now, normally I would just check the Event, Talent, Marketing/PR and TV/Film gigs…but on this day I was soooo despondent (and probably tipsy) that I decided to check out the Adult Gigs as well. And there I saw an ad looking for “girls with no tattoos and nice asses for non-nude fetish work.”

Well, that’s more or less me, so I submitted my photos and was soon chatting with an affable pornographer named Luke, who operated out of Phoenix but happened to be in Vegas scouting for talent. I met him at Caesars for drinks, and he was a likeable guy with a sort of earnest frat-house vibe — if the Island of Broken Toys had a fraternity, he was their houseboy. I called him Luke the Mook, and he explained the whole business to me: he used to be in the business himself as a fetish actor, but had graduated to shooting and directing his own video clips — 5-10 minute mini-dramas which were posted for download on his various websites for a fee of $5-$10. Guys from all over the world ordered his clips around the clock, and he made a decent living at it.

Anyhoo, he hired me on the spot, so the next weekend he flew me down to Phoenix to shoot content for his facesitting site. Now I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong — facesitting is TOTALLY different from face-sitting. Face-sitting (with the hyphen) is what you do in a 69 scenario — straight porno. FACESITTING (sans hyphen) is when a big-assed woman sits on a man’s face, effectively smothering him so that he can’t breathe. It’s not so much about the vagina as it is about the mounds of suffocating flesh — and indeed, many of these videos are non-nude, so there’s no vag either way (although I did see a video once of a hugely obese black woman’s naked ass smothering a white man, as she exhorted him to “Sniff my ass, Honky!”).

I was pretty nervous, since I’d never done ANYTHING like this, but Luke was very accommodating. He had found a sub (submissive; i.e. the guy I’d be smothering) who was willing to shoot for free out at his house in the suburbs, so we drove out there after making a quick pit stop at Panda Express, since for the first clip Luke wanted me to sit on the sub’s face while eating an entire meal — ignoring him and basically treating him like a piece of furniture, which is apparently what gets these guys off.

So we got to the sub’s nondescript tract house out in the hinterlands, and as Luke bustled about setting up the lights, I sat in the living room and made awkward chit-chat with the shy, bespectacled lord of the manor — a tech-industry uber-geek with an intense smother fetish. By volunteering to appear in these videos, he was sparing himself the expense and hassle of going to a strip club, wherein the strippers might laugh in his face at his odd request. So it was a win-win.

Still, he was SUPER nervous and would hardly look me in the eye, so I let my gaze wander around his home, which was filled with hundreds of sci-fi DVDs, countless Lord of the Rings memorabilia, a Playstation 3 with full Rock Band setup, and (inexplicably) Norman Rockwell prints on the walls. It all added up to a touchingly depressing scene, especially when the lighting was finally ready and the sub assumed his prone position on the living room carpet, hands folded expectantly across his belly. Luke set the coffee table with my Panda Express meal, and I sat down to eat, planting my camouflage-pants-clad ass squarely on the sub’s face. “Aaaaaaand….action!”

I relaxed and let my full weight crush his face, as per Luke’s strong exhortation: “I don’t want to see your quads engaged at all! Just ignore him completely, like he is a piece of furniture.”  So despite the meek protests and weak struggling of the sub, I relaxed and enjoyed my fried rice, chow mein, orange chicken and kung pao chicken.  Normally, I would huff down a meal like that in about 4.5 minutes.  But since the clip had to be at least 11 minutes long (to allow for editing), I ate at a more reasonable pace than normal, stopping frequently to take a sip of water and to dab at my lips with a napkin — all niceties for which I normally have little or no time.

Well, that clip went well enough, and we proceeded to shoot nine more 10-minute masterpieces featuring my ass in spandex, panties, shorts and jeans, all squashing the face of the hapless uber-geek. As the shoot went on, the sub started complaining that I was hurting him — and indeed, his face was flushed with broken capillaries (and probably arousal). But Luke took me aside and told me not to listen to him, that he was just being a “pussy” and that I was doing a great job. It was awkward for me because I honestly don’t LIKE hurting people…and this whole sado-masochistic scene was new to me. But I played along and recited my lines, and at the end of the day everyone was happy.

Speaking of “lines,” these videos were for the most part unscripted, but with laughablyhalf-assed plot setups…like in one, the sub was sitting on the bed when I came in and said, “Wanna hear a secret?” And then BAM, I knocked him down and sat on his face for 10 minutes. In another, he was sitting in the hallway staring at the wall when I came in: “What the hell are YOU looking at?! I’ll give you something to look at!” BAM! Squash!

The last scene of the night was the most dramatic, a scenario in which the sub was trussed up in rope, and I entered wearing a Soviet officer’s getup: “So, they tell me you won’t talk….I’ll get you to talk, American!” Bam, squash, repeat. How he was supposed to divulge American military secrets with a face full of my ass, I have no idea. It’s fetish, people!

Meanwhile, it was pouring rain outside — one of those monsoonal thunderstorms they get down there, with lighting and thunder cracking in the background. Very dramatic! We packed up the lights, bid adieu to the thoroughly flustered, red-faced sub, and left him alone to… uhhh, do whatever it was he did when he was alone after spending three hours with some bimbo’s ass on his face. Ahem. Luke and I went back to Luke’s condo, and stayed up far into the night chatting about the fetish industry.

I had no idea about any of this, and I was totally fascinated! Luke had himself attained a measure of fame in the smother fetish community as an in-demand sub back in the day, but had graduated to filming/directing him own clips because it was far more profitable. As mentioned, he posted the clips on his various fetish sites and then sat back and collected royalities as perverts the world over placed their orders, night and day. Even as we sat there chatting, orders came rolling in from Europe, Canada, India, Japan and Saudi Arabia (two of his biggest markets used to be Russia and China, but due to widespread fraud, he was no longer able to accept credit cards from those countries). With each order, Luke made a tidy profit. It all added up!

By this time my mind was reeling, and I retired to his guest bedroom to rest up for the second day’s shoot, which was to be for one of his other websites: “How do you feel about farting on camera?” he asked me…and I replied that I’d give it my best try! So in the morning, I chugged a half-gallon of milk (I admit to being slightly lactose-intolerant, and I figured that would work) and we started filming.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t really able to produce more than one loud fart…so we made an emergency run to Taco Bell for a bean burrito, which I ate and then tried again: still nothing! By this time, my belly was bloated up like a zeppelin, but the gas would not pass. Even when I laid on the floor and had Luke step gingerly on my stomach, pressing with his foot, I could not produce an audible fart. I guess I was raised to be a lady, and not fart on camera for strangers! (N.B. I have since been advised that eating an entire pack of sugar-free Mentos the night before a shoot is GUARANTEED to produce lots of loud farts…haven’t had occasion to try this yet, but I heard it from a reliable source.)

By this time it was almost time to head for the airport, so Luke paid me anyway for my efforts and packed me off back to Vegas. But this was only the beginning of my long, storied career as a fetish model.

One thing led to another, and by word of mouth and referrals from Luke I was introduced to others in the fetish community here in Vegas, and began shooting for many other sites. Here is a brief rundown of some of the fetishes I’ve shot:

  • Trampling, in which a woman in high heels walks up and down the prone body of a man. Many trample-ees take pride in their ability to withstand the weight of up to 7 women at once, all wearing stiletto heels! Some especially get off if you trample their nipples and balls, LOL!
  • Tickling, in which the girl is tied up or otherwise restrained and then tickle-tortured as she giggles and screams (I shot my first one of these in a hotel room at Excalibur…a VERY weird scene which you must remind me to tell you about sometime)
  • Foot worship, in which you sit there and let some “foot slave” (sub) suck your toes and massage your feet (I’ve done these for videos and also at live events, which you must also remind me to tell you about sometime). These can be barefoot or in socks, stockings or heels (each is its own niche fetish)
  • Wet & Messy, in which you sit in a kiddie pool and pour brightly-colored goo all over yourself while having pies tossed at you and cake batter dumped on you, then rub it around and let it slop into your granny panties so that it looks like you have a diaper full of nastiness. The money shot here is to let the goo slowly slop out the leg holes…that’s the thing that sends the wet & messies over the edge!
  • Inflation, in which you don an inflatable sumo costume underneath some regular-looking XXXL clothing, and then slowly blow up until you “explode” (the money shot here was when the buttons popped off my shirt). (I also did one where my boobs blew up…remind me to tell you about THAT one some other time, too!)
  • Overeating, in which you pig out and rub your swollen belly and moan and groan about how full you are
  • Belly button (just laid there playing with my belly button, poking my finger in it and stretching it out
  • Spitting, sneezing, hocking loogies (self explanatory)
  • Giantess, in which you torture and torment a little action figure or Ken doll with your ginormous ass or feet
  • Vore, in which you pretend to eat one of those tiny figurines from a model train set — basically you pop it in your mouth, tease it with your tongue and teeth, and talk about how you’re going to digest him and your stomach acid is going to eat him alive and then you’re gonna poop him out
  • Piggy faces (just making weird faces)
  • Ear-twisting (grabbing another girl’s earlobe and twisting it, or also just putting on various pairs of long, dangly earrings)
  • Burping (root beer is best to get loud, bassy burps)
  • Humiliation, in which you talk to the camera P.O.V.-style about how lame “you” (the viewer, who is supposed to imagine he’s your slave) are, and how tiny “your” penis is
  • Breath holding, in which you hold your breath as long as possible while hooked up to an EKG and a heart-rate monitor, so the fans can watch your vitals go nuts as the oxygen level in your blood goes down. The money shot here is at the end, when your stomach starts flip-flopping in these weird spasms, trying to force air into your lungs. 
  • Underwater breath holding, in which you float around like a mermaid, stroking your face and combing your hair until your stomach starts flip-flopping
  • Heartbeat, in which you do jumping jacks or whatever to get your heart rate up, then hook yourself up to an EKG and heart rate monitor, or even to an ultrasound so the fans can watch your heart beating (many of these fans are cardiologists, oddly enough!). Once I even did one where I just laid there with a toothpick jammed into a piece of gum on my sternum — when my heart beat, the toothpick vibrated. And another time, I laid in a bathtub with a puddle of chocolate syrup pooled on my chest, rippling with each heart beat.
  • Stomach noises (my favorite), in which you eat something that makes your stomach loud (Pop Rocks and soda, or raw fruits and veggies worked particularly well for me) and then lay back on a pillow with a stethoscope and record the sounds your stomach makes as it                                                                                      digests the food
  • Balloon fetish — I’ve shot two types: one is breath related, where you inflate a balloon and then inhale the stale air from it back into your lungs, as many times as you can before running out of oxygen. The other is blowing up balloons and then sitting on them til they pop!
  • Hairy armpits, in which you stroke your nasty-ass Euro-pits and maybe shave them
  • Coughing, in which the money shot (or money sound, I guess) is if you can produce a harsh “barking” sound when you cough (this can be cheated by laying on your stomach on a sofa, with your head hanging down off the side)
  • Wrestling, in which a big, muscular female bodybuilder wrestles you into submission
  • Flex Appeal, in which you flex your biceps and show off how strong you are by lifting other women (I have squatted and carried 6-foot, 175-pound female Amazons, and in turn been picked up and carried around like a baby by them)
  • CBT, or cock & ball torture — I haven’t really shot this, except for that one shoot the other week where I kicked the guy in the nuts repeatedly…but apparently, there are sites where chicks jam their stiletto heels into guys’ ballsacks and whatnot
  • Crushing, in which you mash up stuff (food, plastic objects, whatever) with your feet or high heels
  • Ponyplay, in which you ride a guy like a horse and beat him to go faster
  • Damsel In Distress, in which you are bound and gagged and tormented (my LEAST favorite type of shoot…I *HATE* it

In addition to all those freaky fetishes, there are MANY more that I haven’t yet shot. Some of the others on my list include spandex (I have so many pairs of colorful spandex pants, I don’t know WHY I haven’t been hired to shoot this stuff yet), bubble gum-blowing, spanking (despite the massive spankability of my ass, I prefer to be the spanker, not the spankee) and hair (I have a LOT of hair, and I know there’s a fetish for it…just haven’t figured it out yet).

Some of the other fetishes that are NOT on my list — that are just TOO creepy for even me — include peeing, pooping, chloroform (where you pretend to be passed out while someone undresses and chokes you), drowning, pretend-incest and bug crushing (many of these are actually illegal, anyway).

So anyhoo, this past Monday I did a shoot for a sock-worship site, in which I wore various types and pairs of sox and allowed a slave to suck and worship my socked feet, before forcing him to remove the sox with his teeth and then worship my bare feet with his tongue. Gooooooooood times! We even did one outside, in a mud puddle, where he had to lick all the dirt and grime from the socks…which he did with relish! Crazy.

What was really crazy was that the sub for this shoot was someone I actually already know socially! I just didn’t realize he was into foot worship. It just goes to show…I have met all kinds of subs on these shoots, from all walks of life. I shot a whole day once with a cop from Las Vegas Metro, slapping him and trampling him and riding him around like a horsey — and he LOVED it! He was a big, tall, strapping good-looking guy, and he said that he got tired of people fearing and respecting him all the livelong day — sometimes, he found it therapeutic to be abused!

But nothing beats the time I went over to a friend’s house to shoot some trampling/humiliation videos, and the sub turned out to be this pompous ass-bag local actor I happened to know from shooting commercials and stuff around town. He had been pretty rude to me in the past, so I THOROUGHLY ENJOYED beating his ass black and blue for this video!! Worse, he had supposedly just filmed a national commercial for a certain credit card company (yet was somehow broke enough to necessitate filming fetish videos), so he had to wear a Zorro mask in the clips so as not to be recognized! LOSER! Let me tell you, I gave that guy HELL, and relished every minute of it 🙂





P.S. If you’re wondering, I get paid an hourly wage for these gigs, ranging from $50-100. The real money is in residuals from clip sales, but I find it too time-consuming to operate my own site (I’ve tried it, to varying degrees of success…it takes a LOT of promotion). So nowadays I prefer to hire (you might say whore) myself out to other peoples’ sites…easier for me that way!

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Overeating soup, promoting medical marijuana cultivation, and posing as a Paparazzo

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!

The remainder of this blog will be sprinkled with photos from my badass shoot with Michael Quan last week…the one where I had to run out and buy a broom last-minute. Now you see why!

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!

Anyway, I went to meet up with this legal grow school guy, and he is super cool. We met up at a PT’s Pub near the airport to discuss his business over a few drinks.

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 “” 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 ( (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 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… 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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