One Night Stand

"My gaydar is finely tuned but I can't point out a drunk guy to save my life."

Guy flirts with girl.
Girl flirts with guy.
They hook up.

He blows his load as she fakes an assortment of moans combined with dirty talk. He collapses on the bed and starts snoring. She lays beside him hoping it will be better next time and he pretends to be sleeping when he pushes her body away so it's not touching his.
Sadly his dead weight is sprawled across the bed, and as to not disturb the bloke, she curls up in a tiny corner of the bed that's left, (Her instinctive nature to be accommodating kicked in.) and tries to sleep through his thunderous snores.

After a short time she wakes up to him fumbling with his belt. Hick-up-ing and making that weird face that can only mean he threw up in his mouth a little, as he gets dressed and make a b-line for the door.

She gets up in time to close the door behind him and make some cool remark that makes it look like she's in control. Mostly, So he'll believe she used him, just as much as he used her. Except it's all a facade.

It never occurred to her that he was drunk till now. She was sober, and has been her whole life. She trusts easily and believes people. Shes a small town girl, living in the big city. So When He was persistent in pursuing her, she was flattered.

But now she sits alone on her bed knowing she will never Hear from him again but hoping that he'll call and be just as sweet and kind and flirty as he had been up until this point.
But to no one's surprise, the phone never rings.

Grabbing her phone to check the time, she looks up his name up on Facebook, twitter, YouTube and the like. And there on the glowing screen is a picture of him and his beautiful girlfriend.

She wants to call him and yell, but what good would that do. Then he'd say she's crazy and the story would be a good laugh for his buddies at the bar the next night.

She resists destroying some other girls happiness by messaging the girlfriend and letting her know how much of a cheating douche her man is. She shouldn't resist, but she does, for some reason I can't even explain in hindsight.

She forgets all about him and goes in with life.

But she never really forgets. His name fades from her memory but he's left a gross, sinking feeling in her heart.

She trusts less, and becomes emasculating to future men who try to flatter her.
"You're so pretty" they say.
She's heard that line before with a slew of other no name brand compliments that only translated to "me man, me want pussy!"

Heaven forbid a man give his opinion on her boobs. Her quick wit and sharp tongue will have the room laughing at him and his balls tucking back up into his body.

She's jaded. She's hurt.

But these men mean no harm. When they tell her she's sexy.
But she hates it. For she's come to learn that that is the opening line used by men who can't be trusted.

Why can't she be funny, smart, kind, or talented. Why can't you appreciate any quality about her that would make her your friend and not just a object to fuck.

BRAS - Supporting the Ladies

as seen on A GAY COLLAB & GAY LIFE TV

The hottest part of my night

Tonight I held my own hand and took myself out on a date.
I had a picnic on the sea wall and watched the sunset over the lake... I mean ocean.
I took myself back to my place I fumbled with my keys at the door,
not out of nervousness though, cause I knew I was gonna score.
I cuddle up on the couch and watched game of thrones.
But then I realized something, you can't spoon alone.
I dimmed the lights, ok that's a lie,
the last bulb burnt out, they're hard to replace as they're a specialty size.
I lit vanilla scented candles and then, as I'm sure you can predict,
I started a load of laundry and then text a boy, calling him out on his shit.
You see I was ditched the night before, although he says he tried.
If he had tried hard enough, instead of through my fingers he would have slipped between my thighs.
I don't mean to appear easy, I'm sure you know where I'm coming from.
But even on a date with myself, I still couldn't get some.
The washing machine is buzzing, I've got clothes to fold.
Who knew the hottest part of my night would be the delicate load.

Photo taken from Sunset Beach were I watched the sunset...

Big BOOBS and life's other issues

When I was a stripper, I was just average, normal, I blended in.
I'd go to work and I looked just like the other girls. I hosted all sorts of shows where the busty over the top girl was exactly what people were coming to see. I received thunderous applause, signed posters, calendars, t shirts, and the bare chests of both men and women. I took countless photos with an endless parade of people. Even to this day people see me at dinner and ask for photos or tell me that they saw my magnet on their friend's fridge. I love that people love me! Who wouldn't!?!?

I retired from stripping and now focus on hosting events... to much success. These events, adult conventions, strip clubs etc, feel like my home away from home. It's where I fit in. It's where I'm treated like an equal.

I started spending my free time hanging out in the "real world" and mingling with the 9-5ers.
The response wasn't so good.

A korean boy told me (in his best english) that I looked like I was a mean girl but he was surprised that I'm the nicest girl in the world.

A woman, who's the mother of one of my friends, told me (in a surprised tone) I looked like I could be a bitch but once she talked to me she thought I was very sweet and misunderstood.

Why so surprised?
Why, why, why do we assume that anyone who "we think" looks better than us or different than us, must be a mean, nasty human who's up to no good?  Why? Because that is the outline of every chick flick. Generation after generation teach we our children that the underdog will only succeed by putting down the person they feel threatened by. The underdog who ALWAYS wins! is a doe eyed, small town, simple girl and the evil villain is always some chick with a nose ring or tits that dont jiggle when she walks. Movies, magazines, betty vs veronica... this is what we accept as truth. If you don't have anyone who makes you feel insecure just find the closest person who YOU THINK looks better than you. or someone who stands out or is different than YOUR norm... and BINGO there's your target. Your success lays in their  misery. Take them down and you will reign victorious!!!
We breed judgement based assumptions  Our own insecurity turns us on each other. and this awful cycle of insecurity, judgment and hate goes round and round making me so dizzy i beg to get off this ride so I can vomit!

I tried to fit in in the "real world" and it was hell. I was pointed at, laughed at, my hair pulled, heckled, random strangers from both genders honk my tits and high five their friends as they scurry off. You have no idea how much I wish I was talking about high school, but sadly I'm almost 30 and after 8 years of being secluded in the "adult entertainment world" I went out to the so called "real world" and this is how people behave! 12 years after graduation nothing has changed.

I don't do well in the normal world. I feel like the only gay kid in a small redneck town. They point and say the most random crap and I just want to tell them "you know I can see/hear you, right?!?!"

My closest friend are circus "freaks," pornographers, models, strippers etc. and in our industry we are forced to look past the exterior. Our appearance is part of the act. Part of the show. As entertainers we have to work together, we MUST support and encourage one another or we wont simply will no longer have a place as an entertainer. Not all entertainers are saints, but, My circle of friends are happy, open people, who I've never seen treat someone as poorly as what I see in the "real world." And this is why they are my friends.

Last night on Granville street, I turned around to talk to my date and a girl who was walking behind me  grabbed her face like she was re-inacting a scene from Home Alone and gasped before laughing hysterically and YELLING to her friends, "OMG DID YOU SEE HER TITS?!" She wasn't the first to act this way. But I made sure she was the last. How?

I left.


I left my date at the Warehouse and hid at a different bar (The Moose) where my bro Mikey was. He and the staff working knew me and treated me like a human... it was so refreshing.

The "real world" scares me. It seems like a place full of hate and judgement where people and use and dispose of each other to get to the proverbial top. They escape on their two days off each week. Hiding in bars, where their courage to talk to others is sold in over priced bottles, right next to the cans filled with the liquid that makes your pain, stress and regret vanish just a little more with every sip.
Once they've swallowed enough, they go out... where our paths cross as I'm walking, avoiding the pools of vomit that decorate the sidewalks, and they're not all mean and hurtful people. But the ones who are sweet, kind, genuine.. they are often followed by a loud obnoxious girl, or a puffed up buddy expressing his feelings of entitlement.

The next night when they introduce themselves at my show. I don't remind them that we've met before, I just smile for the picture. I smile because I'm amazed that they are so resilient. I've seen the so called "real world" that they live in.
and it's hell.

Sexual Peak? Sexual Peek!

"It's often said that a woman doesn't reach her sexual peak until her 30's. It takes a lot of women until then to overcome their insecurity of the feeling that they have to compete with other women. Sex becomes better because she can tell him (or her) what she likes. She's more secure. She's more assertive. She can let go because she is not self conscious."

I never thought I'd day this but, I can't wait to turn 30.

Master of the Bait n Switch

I appear to be the master of the bait n switch, I upload photos of myself at events and shows, dressed to stand out... which in my mind is work. Moments later, I get countless messages saying, "you're so wild n crazy I wanna take you out and party all night!"
The reality is that once the lights fade and the audience leaves their beer stained seats... I'm curled up in my sweats and seeking a Soy latte - which is my idea of heavy drinking.
Now, I also get tons of work/gigs thanks to the popularity of these photos and word getting around that I host events. Which is GREAT!
But I also get countless messages from clueless men and women who could care less that I'm hosting a cancer benefit or an award show and comment profusely with little more than a grunt in the form of a word, such as, "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOBBBBS"
The general idea is that I'm a breathing version of a blow up doll who will drink you under the table then fuck you on top of it, all before asking your name.
Well, sorry to burst the bubble but I'm gonna go buy my dog yet another adorable sweater and watch some day time TV while daydreaming of happily ever after.

You can't judge a book by it's cover... or by it's bra size.

My apartment is trying to kill me

I made a cup of tea and a very hot bowl of rice and chicken covered in a yummy sauce. I put down the tea and then fumbled the bowl. It shattered as it hit the corner of my bed sending sauce and food down the side of the mattress and into the floor next to my tea cup. I put the tea cup on a stool. While I wiped up the mess i bumped the stool and the tea cup shattered on my row of stilettos under the window. At the end of the row of stilettos I have one pair of trail runners which now served as tea cups both partially filled with hot sticky liquid. Bed dismantled, bedding ready to be washed mattress scrubbed, floor mopped, shoes soaking in the tub. Broken dishes and food in the garbage... I go back to the kitchen to nuke a frozen dinner and make another cup of tea. Quickly standing up after changing the garbage bag i smack my head on the open cupboard and drop another tea cup. I slam my hand down on the counter to catch my balance and palm the end of a steak knife which grazes my hip. Slightly bleeding I turned on the tap to rinse my hands and wipe the blood off my hip. I had been washing dishes earlier And a few were still soaking so as the hot water poured out of the faucet it hit a plate precariously balanced on the measuring cup and sprayed water directly at me.
Now I am soaked, sore, bleeding, frustrated, hungry and convinced my apartment is trying to kill me.
Ever have just one of those days?!?!