For those of you who know me, you know that while yes, I am sensitive and caring, I am also a grown ass woman. And if you got something to say to me, don’t take me grocery shopping, “make love to me” and then hand me a note written on some expensive ass italian paper saying that you think you are starting to care about me too much so you would rather cut it off right now than follow through. Whatever. I understand wanting to go foward in our careers, I would not sacrifice mine for him either, but DO YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING BALLS? YOU HAND ME A NOTE? and then I know what it says because I’m not a fucking moron, and start to walk out and you ask me to read it in front of you? You SICK SADISTIC PRICK. I don’t mind if we don’t see eachother, if it’s too much, if you started to care, but since when do you have the nerve to ask me 50 times a fucking day if I have some STD but you don’t and can’t get the words out? You can’t be honest with me about the real shit? Give me a fucking break. You are a bitch. A rich whiney bitch with nothing else. And that is how you will end up. Whiney and alone. Because you handed all the girls that gave a fuck about you a gay little note saying that you can’t commit. (he obviously doesn’t read this blog, because he never would have thought I wanted a commitment out of him if he had…..)
Well there is that romance. See? Aren’t I glad that I didn’t put him as mr. wonderful? Or Mr. Perfect? Yes, of course I’m glad. I hate commiting to things, and it’s a good thing I never crossed him over into the world of “wonderful” or “perfect”. Just another romance. Too bad he had to end it so lame. Guess that’s the way life goes right? Brother Ali was right in that ya win some you lose some….but what the fuck are you supposed to feel if you don’t even get out of the batting cage? Well, just tell yourself that the guy battting ahead of you went ahead and stuck the bat in his asshole, thinking it would be wiser to swing like the fag he is and well that just fucked up the game for everyone.
Maybe I should call Eve Laurence and tell her I’m down to have a threesome with her and Mr. Romance’s roomate…..
hahaha……he is a fine motherfucker……
I’m so going to hell…..

yesterday, I had the pleasure of bashing mr. evan stone…..the one the only, the incredibly long ballsacked….EVAN STONE! he and i are always so funny together, and by that I mean that I feel like we are funny. We work well together. We play well off eachothers energy. We respond in improv types of situations similarly, and are generally pretty on point when it comes to dialogue. This being said, we were cat burglars breaking into somewhere for mr. Stuart Canterbury (who I love for newfounded reasons and I will share momentarily) film which I do not know the name of. It was a Shh and SSSSHHHHh type of deal, funny all together, that is until the sex. Keep in mind that we are outside mid feb in downtown LA at 8pm. A little fucking chilly. And whenever it gets cold, my pussy always needs maximum lubrication; I suppose I’m just sucking in all my juices so they don’t freeze into pussycycles. anyhoot, We got pretty naked, well I did anyway, and yes, I’m a tough broad and I told Stuart that I would be tough and I wouldn’t complain and we’d do the damn thing. And we did. And I was fucking proud of myself, because it was cold as a motherfucker. as an evan fucker. First I rode him facing away, then I rode him facing him, then he picked me up, put my on my shoulders, hips high in the air, and he finished me and himself off in that piledriver position that also provides an excellent neck stretch (if you are careful).
Stuart Canterburry overheard me telling my favorite make-up artist and new mommie Jules how much I love this new yoga and how I want to be a zen master yogi queen, and asks “oh, what kinda yoga?” and I say, “Bikram!” Turns out he is in love with it too, goes 2-3 times a week out in studio city, and can’t get enough of it. SO!!!! we are going to go to a class together, and then go eat something healthy afterward. hahaha…..i love this class. his favorite posture is one of my favorites too…..tree…..i love trees.
I’m gonna go to booze class now though, and then go play with MY mom, cuz she just rolled into town and we’re getting together as a little late bday celebration.
as if everyday with her isn’t a celebration!

I never make too big a deal out of my birthday…..in fact, every year, I try and squeak by without being noticed, never tell anyone, never got flowers and balloons in grade school. But yesterday was the day of days. yesterday, my birthday, happened to be an absolutely fabulous day. I woke up in Oakland on the couch of my oldest dearest friend, partook of a little cup of good morning america with her before she dropped me at the aeropuerta…..Then back to lala land…..the rainclouds had been forming all night, creeping and crawling in over the west coast, so our ride was a touch bumby, but thankfully southwest employees are comedians, so it at least humorous. We land right on time, in fact an hour earlier than I had thought I would arrive, (because I got to the airport up in the biggity early earls, and they let me hop on an earlier flight, nice of them southwest folks), first off the back of the plane, oh how I love when they open the back door and connect those stairs, you always feel like a movie star walking down, maybe you should wave, like everyone is expecting you. wanting you. how romantic. there is no line at the valet, my car comes right up, little ipod has just enough juice to get me home, where I can plug it into the bose, and jam out to a little israel vibrations, yeah, paint my koi in the garage, so soothing, these carp, splendor, grace, amazing animals really. After my afternoon fish frenzy, I think it’s about time to hit up some more Bikrams…(why yes, I found a studio nearby, two actually so that wherever I am in the valley, I can go) sweat running into my eyes, as I rest my forehead on the ground, hold heels, suck the belly in……now just breathe, and hop back into the day, time to go to din din. Ruth’s Chris? All my favorite people? well, Smoke, Tye9, car, rachel roxx and homie in tow, jack venice, and justice…once? yum. Rachel giving justice head at the dinner table. hahahha…..lets all show the waiter our tits, and could you please bring penny her own bottle of Moet? I think that would be best, oh smokey, you are such a darling, buying me my own bottle of Mo, you want some mo? NO NO NO YOU HAVE TO DRINK IT ALL!!!! damn bubbles make me laugh, in fact, pretty much all I remember about the evening is laughing, laughter ringing from the bowels, belly laughs, tears streaming down faces, oh god, she is still giving him head and her tits are OUT OUT OUT and oh lord, a seven hundred dollar bill? hahahhahha……no problem, we do okay, off to the races, or in reality some dive bar, but it’s ours and goddamnit I love it and it’s patrons, and I’m on top of the world, and I’m laughing still laughing when I woke up and all the rain clouds are gone this morning, and the sky is clear as crystal and kind of shining like diamonds, and wow. What a good day.
And Mr. Romance sent lovely flowers,
And Tye9 made me a tittie cake,
and I think 24 is gonna be a good year. my year.
thank you.

And I was so proud of him. To be honest, I’m always a little hesitant to work with new guys, just because (and yes this is going to sound incredibly bitchy and icky so if you don’t like ick then skip ahead) I’m never sure it’s gonna work. Its not that I don’t want to put effort into it, because if you ask anybody I work with, and when I say work with I definately mean fuck, I’m all there, balls to the wall fully involved and effort providing. But sometimes, it just isn’t enough. It isn’t enough that I’m sitting there playing with my pussy, or sucking your cock. It isn’t enough that you’ve been jacking off for twenty minutes while I spin circles on my head legs wide, near take off almost like a helicopter. Sometimes, it just isn’t enough. But that’s fine. And that is to be expected….it is no easy task at hand to fuck a girl, stay into it, open up for the camera, pretend there aren’t twenty people there with bright lights or that a guy is practically leaning on you to get that uber close poon filled pov cock shot. I don’t even know if I could do it if I had the utensils that men have to work with. Because unless you are a golden god, (or a person completely lacking of emotions), you have to somewhat dig the chick you are fucking. There has to be one little thing that is remotely sexy and that is what you will dine on when you are hungry for mental masturbation.
Although this was not the case today, it often is with new guys. and it makes a ton of guys feel like pieces of shit…..this is to let you know I tip my hat to you. The pressure would surely kill me.
Well today, I fucked this rocker named Emilio. Lovely man. Of Spanish heritage. Spewing spanish profanities and slurs every which way while he bashed away at the flower I call my girl, wearing a skeleton mask the entire time, it was fun. The aninimity of it all. I always love masks. Like when Sascha wore that motorcycle helmet while he fucked me on the quad in Maui. Fuckin hot. Like hott hot. Emilio did a great job, came after the third position, all over my face, boobies, blah blah blah.
So, yes. There it is. I don’t know if I could still take a guys virginity on the real note though, I used to be into that when I was younger. Breakin em in…..ask any of the guys who I went to highschool with….bad bad girl. Either way. Kind of grown up I gotta say. Yup.
Now I like to fuck people with masks on.
fuckin sicko

I realize now that a big part of my personality relies on extremes. Now I must question…..is it this way for everyone? Does everyone start off at one point and then speed full on ahead, throttle bashed at the max, come to this screeching relization that we should do……………more yoga?
because I can’t think of anything but yoga.
y
o
g
a

I want some really awesome yoga pants.

and maybe my own studio…..
for
yoga

something inside me has changed drastically. Ever since I quit smoking cigarettes, (and I suppose ever since Lunch…) I have been slowly but surely cutting any unhealthy things out of my life. Yesterday was the finale day…a day of acknowledgement. I went to this yoga class, the first yoga class I’ve actually ever attended, and it was in a 110 degree studio. So hot you thought you would pass out. So hot if you didn’t drink water you would pass out. And I finished the whole class. I didn’t let myself pus out at all….well, on one posture I almost quit, but then a voice called out my name like, push push push, and I pushed through. Today, my body aches, but I want to do more of it, I want to stretch like that all the time. These women could stretch their bodies and bend their limbs in the most beautiful, intricate ways, feeling every muscle working and aware of breath. it really was an amazing experience. Cleansing. Invigorating. Every extreme positive thing it could be it is, and was. And I loved it. I can’t wait to find a private little studio in my neighborhood so I can become a yoga queen, bending and twisting, breathing, and existing in pure thought. It will be wonderful. I am so excited to be alive right now, at this very moment, that I almost can’t contain myself. I want to make so many changes, and see so many things that can be positive that I have been making negative. And it truly is a state of mind that I can exist in, and that will become the reality. Every moment getting better than the last.
yoga master
bender

I’m sitting down at Bud Bleeze’s house in SD and it’s almost nine pm on friday which is supposed to be awesome and fun, but all I want to do is go for a run. I just saw this tiny little yorkie that could have been Lunch’s older bro granted a lot older he was 13 years old, but none the less, he had the sweet face and the sweet little big big big ears, and man oh man, I should just go for a run. But I’ve already been running tonight, in fact, I already ran over two miles, and it’s dark in Ocean Beach and in fact all of california is dark right now. Come to think of it, it’s dark across our fine country, and well, who goes running right now? Now is the time for celebration, time for friends time to out and play. But I want to run. So should I run?
I got a text from Mr. Romance today saying he had sex with some chick this week and it was no good and made him realize how much he cares about me, (and funny enough as jealous as I normally get, this made me very very very happy. Not that he fucked someones else, well….hold on now, actually yes, it pleases me that he fucked someone else. Because not once has he “fucked” me. Always with the love making…..sensuous….all right flame focus. He wants to remain open and honest, and I can’t help but respect this. In fact I even appreciate it. Even though it makes me feel icky, and I can’t say shit, because you know what I fuck other people, and this is how it feels. Icky. I don’t want to share him. It must be terrible caring for me. Actually knowing me must be somewhat terrible, some sort of agony, just because I’m virtually impossible. no. What must be virtually impossible is love me. Because wow…..how can you love something and want it for yourself if it is for everyone? Interesting.
Okay. Here it is. Decision time. Do I go run, or do I sit back, have a Pacifico and delve a little deeper into mr. Millers Tropic of Crappi? hmmm…..hmmm……I have a feeling that Henry is going to win this battle. But only because my shins hurt. Otherwise he and I would rendezvous tomorrow morning post coffee for our intimate mental love making session. But a quick stretch would be good for the ol body. Ol body goddamn. I’m turning 24 this month. “and while the sea is boiling hot…”

TO MAKE AND THROW THE ULTIMATE PARTY EVER!!!!!!! My house party is gonna be the 8th of march….and it’s gonna be the greatest most awesomest coolest tightest party ever ever ever. Oh god I hope so anyway, so I don’t look like some asshole throwing lame ass party’s. Haha. yup. and more midgets. Definately midgets. Because little people always make a party you know? I’m thinking they should run the drinking games.
And these will be serious games by the way…..serious motherfucking games. Of being drunk. oh lord. By the way, I have to go alcohol class again tonight, and to be honest, more than anything, taking these courses in sobriety make me realize that yes I do get bellig sometimes, but those are nights where I intend upon getting bellig. but nights where I want to have two beers, I have two beers. Nights where I don’t want any drinks, I don’t have any drinks.
But the night of my party, folks, we are gonna have standing contest. Whoever can stand the longest takes a drink. hahahha. there ya go.
Okay, I should listen to my boss now, so maybe they actually say yes.

Today I get to go fuck Randy Spears for Wicked……FINALLY EH? I have been waiting to work with Randy ever since he got his Wicked Contract, arg, which made his presence on other sets null. NO more playgirl. No more viv. No more red light. No more piddly diddlys, just his big Wicked. FINALLY! I’m so stoked. Randy is one of my favorite performers…..just a sexy friggin man. oh man is he sexy. Anyway, I’m gonna try and get a little picture with him so I can put it up here. Just wanted to let you know what I be doin on this lovely monday morn.

Everyday that I wake up and go to work, (and those of you who have read my blogs know that this is an all open and honest place so please don’t expect a change now…) I play a game that most people in the world would call Russian Roulette. Every day I go to work I have sex with someone who yesterday, had sex with someone else, who might have had sex with two people the day before, and what’s more than that is those two people could have fucked three different people each the day before, and I have a sinking feeling in my gut that something is going to happen. Is there any safety in exponential fucks? I don’t think so. and to top it off, some of the guys have been getting into the other side of porn (not that its bad, it’s just not ok to jump back and forth), doing things that aren’t necessarily safe, and well, I just don’t know if I can ignore this feeling anymore. This feeling deep in my gut that there is gonna be another case. And I can’t stand the thought of either getting it, knowing someone who gets it (and most likely having fucked them), or anything involving IT. When those commercials come on for ebay, my mind is somewhere else. IT is not something that is worth my boy girl rate, IT is not something that is worth giving up my health for, IT scares the fucking shit out of me. And it always has. IT never goes away, IT is on my mind at every moment, (although up until this point I was so afraid of IT that I wouldn’t even talk about IT out loud, because somehow outloud actualizes things, brings them into reality even though they already exist there plain and simple and shouldn’t be ignored), and is something that I can no longer avoid. Something I can no longer lie to myself about, and say that it won’t happen to me. Because it could. Anything can happen. So I have made some decisions. And I’m going to share them with you right now, sorry if this is upsetting, but how much more upset would you be if I got IT?
First decision, from this moment on, every person I work with will have a test no older than 10 days. I will also have a test no older than 10 days. Do unto others….
Second decision, I’m going to try and get into a contract star situation, where I can be incredibly selective with who I work with and use condoms. Honestly, there is no way to work in the industry with condoms unless you have a contract. Even then it is questionable. But I am confident, and believe that I am worth the investment. This is said with no arrogance or conceit.
Third decision. I need to realistically plan ahead for my future. There is no way that you can make enough money to retire when done unless you save every penny. (hahah, that’s my name) I need a plan to make my money keep making money. Because if you don’t keep making money and you only spend, then money goes away. And unfortunately, one cannot live on nothing. As dharma as I’d like to be, this is real time Penny Flame.
A dear friend of mine, Jezebelle Bond, recently retired. I went into ADT to see what was goin on in the posts, and I read hers where one post somewhat compared her to Dana DeArmond, and Dana got pissed off at the comparison and made a personal attack on Jezs’ reason for getting out of the business. Whatever. Be dramatic all you want. Get hyphey in a post that is supposed to say goodbye to Jez…. I posted that Jez is a tight girl, that she didn’t quit because she thought drugs made her look old, or because she met the love of her life. She just quit. She was just over it. She wanted to be a normal girl, and have a normal life, and possibly a family and an incredibly intimate connection with the one who she believes to be her soul mate. She was just over it. And all things out in the air, here are my cards. I admire her for that. For being able to recognize when she no longer enjoys something. And for being able to walk away. I asked her if she thought she’d come back…..she said “not a chance in fucking hell.”
This morning I was in bed with my dream man. And he knows that I’m not quitting, and he will deal with that in the ways that he does, and I will do all I can to show him I care about him. But one day, when I get tired of all this, when the glitz and the glamour fade and all that is left is my desire to move on, I don’t want there to be any doubt. I don’t want stupid girls on ADT to post that , “well, yeah, she did drugs for a while, so she doesn’t look as young as she is, and oh…yeah, she met a guy so that is that” and blah blah fucking blah. I want to walk out of this business with my head held high, and clean as a whistle. I want to walk out of this life and straight into my next where I can still adequately take care of myself. Without opening my legs. I want people to look back and say, “yup, Penny flame was a beautiful woman throughout her career, and she left this industry she did so with grace and style” and I don’t want people to question what I’m doing now, am I dancing, am I hooking, did I blow my one chance to climb up a stepping stone that some people would consider boulders in the way.
It’s rumored that before Marie Antoinette was beheaded, she spent most of her time practicing placing her head gracefully on the chopping block. She had a guillotine that she practiced dying on. How refined can a woman be, knowing that her time has come and doing so with the utmost grace and humility possible?
I want to practice laying my head down so that when I may go, it will be beautiful. As with everything I have done in my career, I want the death of Penny Flame to be elegant. I want the death of Penny Flame to be regal. I want the death of Penny Flame to bring a new life, and a new world into my hands, and I want these glorious feelings inside my soul to carry on in everything I do. But mostly, I want the death of Penny Flame to be respectful and progressive. Because I want there to be life after porn. Just like we all want there to be some sort of life after death, even if we do just see ourselves hanging out on clouds lookin back down.