This morning, the alarm on my cell started going bonkers at 7:00. My original iintent was to attend an 8am class, then go to the beach, (seeing as how it is a beautiful saturday, and heck, that is really all I can do sans spending money), and then back to my humble abode to partake of some healthy eating frozen cuisine. WELL. I slept through the alarm, thanks to my sound proof sleep saturated state, and didn’t just push snooze. In my sleep (or so I will tell my yoga teacher upon questioning), I pressed dismiss.
Twice.
Well, no matter. Upon waking up around 9am, I promptly forgave myself, and put up to the final panel grande the ultimate question of the day. Am I really going to attend the 10am class. Because lets be serious folks. It is Saturday.
And it is fucking beautiful.
And so it goes to follow that I didn’t go to yoga, (arguing with myself that I properly stretched myself yesterday, and deserve a day off. It’s kind of like the sabbath. The day of rest.) and instead took my step dog Cali to dog beach. Cali is Bud Bleezes dog and ever since Lunch passed, I’ve been hanging out with cali. Honestly, the whole ordeal really fucked me up as far as dog ownership goes, so I am slowly but surely trying to just get over it. Let it go. Cali helps. She’s a huge bullmastiff that slobers all over everything. And she wakes me up every morning like a 7 year old on Christmas-insert image of small child running back and forth jumping off opposing walls and licking your face while snarling playfully and shaking waterfalls of slober your way. Fucking kids. Well, dog beach is a lovely place to let your dog off the leash. And cali was free.
Then we headed down to people beach, where some friends had buried 9 kegs in the sand. Gauranteed good time. And this keg? I ran into at least three people that I used to kick it with down here. Fortunately they were kids that were pretty good influences (compared to me hahahahha…..oh god I’m terrible), and I’m really stoked upon re-uniting.
There was this one chick in white who had this tiny petite frame, and then BWHAMMMMM! Booty. And a smile. Whatever, I didn’t holler, she wouldn’t have been down. Perv penny. terrible. why is it every time I get a little tah killya in me, I wanna holler at bitches? HAHAHAHA! oh kayeeee. I’m gonna go. I gotta hop in the shower and prepare for the evening ahead. My body is burned like ouch, and a cold shower would do me good.
yup. do it good.

This morning, I came a little early, lay down on my little towel toes toward the back, trying to calm and listen to the clock ticking down the last few minutes before torture. Also known as Bikram Yoga. I always get there with at least 20 minutes to waste, first because I want a good place in the room, (not that one is necessarily better than another, but I like to be toward the front, nobody in front of me…..ego…..), and second, I have convinced myself that if I lay there for a little bit before I start killing myself it will give me time to let the body (and mind mostly) adjust to the extreme heat change. I’m fairly positive that my studio is one of the hottest on the planet. Well, probably not as hot as Bikrams or parts thereof, which officially is exactly where I’m taking class, but that’s neither here nor there.
So I found my place on the mat and went through all the postures, and although I locked my knee for at least thirty seconds of the standing head to knee, I couldn’t hold it. So I let it go. That’s what you’re supposed to do right? let things go? arg. Yeah right. Well, when I later found myself rinsing off in the ladies lounge, I was approached by a cutie patootie in a very stylish stretching oriented outfit. She asked if I had just started practicing in san diego, (which I obviously replied yes) and then she proceeded to tell me about her adorable little yoga outfit boutique that she has out off Washington St. and how it is very important that I come by because she has the cutest little outfits in town. So I agreed to go. Just a stop by. Lets just see what she has.
$300.00 later, and I’m wondering how important cute little yoga outfits are.
Now here comes the fun part. I want to lose maybe 10 pounds (tops! I promise no scary thin no tittied pennys here), and I’m fairly sure that there is something special in these outfits. Some special ingredient that makes it surperbly easy to lose weight. In fact, I think it might be the strings on the side of the shorts (which allow me to increase or decrease my sex appeal by increasing or decreasing the short length) that help to let the excess weight fall off right onto the aforementioned towel. I think that THAT is why these fucking barely existant articles of clothing were so damn expensive. yes. I said it. Yoga clothes are expensive, or at least the ones that I seem to find. And I’m not sure what your regular yogini’s budget is, or their monthly income, but I have a feeling it doesn’t allow for adorable matching pasley body suits that lift here (points to the ladies) and tucks here (points to baby making area). So, here is the theory that I have developed between the store in land, and my home, at the beach.
I must buy every article of nice yoga wear that I can right now while I can, so that in the future when I can’t, I can say, “Oh that’s just fine! I already own EVERY PIECE EVER MADE!”
Or I will end up broke with nothing to wear but adorable (and incredibly sweaty) matching pasley fits.

I arrive in LA around 11am yesterday morning to one of my favorite make-up artist, and who does she start talking about as soon as I sit in the chair? Mr. X. Telling me how he is losing weight, and looking great, and he had been on that road for awhile now, but its nice to hear he is accomplishing his goals (mostly the one about being healthy, and in shape, cuz he got on this kick right as soon as we stopped dating hahahah….don’t ya love that?). He is a good man. So I was going to text him that he is a good man, and I’m stoked he’s making progress and then I realize.
In 3.2 seconds I’ve let down my gaurd, and went right back into my LA way of thinking. Not that there is really a way of thinking up there, or a method to the madness that is los angeles, but there is definately an underlying notion, subtle predetermined reactions to age old actions, actions that are both predictable and spent. So I didn’t call him. But I thought about it, which felt just as….
So then we start talking about our x-boyfriends (easy segway) and I realize that I have cheated on pretty much everybody. ha. Fucking bad girl. Well, not on a couple, there were a couple that I was involved with that either a.) knew that I had more than one lover or b.) I just didn’t cheat on (the recent ones being in this group). Snuggles called me on the phone (and keep in mind he calls me Snugs too) saying, “Snugs, I met these kids that hang out in the Conc, and they said that they knew you from back in the day back in the day, and I was like ‘nu hhuhh, you don’t know snugs’ and this dude said that he for sure did cuz his buddy fucking hates you cuz you cheated on him like way back in the day, and then I realized that yeah, they know my Snugs”….and then he just started busting up. Laughing hysterically. and man I felt like shit. For a minute.
Don’t really know what is wrong with me. Or what was wrong with me anyway. For awhile, I thought I would just get caught up in the moment, not know just quite how to say no, not really have the presence of mind to say anything. And then go on and don’t say anything about it after. And then deny it maybe once or twice, but eventually, yes, I would cop to most affairs. Most. Its funny. I mean, it isn’t funny haha, but it is strange….because for as much as I try and allow myself to change, most of the ways stay the same. Suppose even growth is change though right? Because now, even though being in adult helps me with the not needing to cheat, I understand why I cheated. Well, some aspects of it.
I think some of it has to do with the fact that it is almost my second nature to relate to people on a sexual level. It is how I feel most comfortable. So when I was young, and trying to figure out the way to womanhood, I did somethings that I shouldn’t have done, mostly disrespecting any “relationship” that I had presently been in. Granted the guy that Snugs was talking about was from like 7th or 8th grade, thus quotes around the word relationship. And you know, everything is so temporary, and I have moved so much in my life, the longest time spent somewhere being 5 years, huge issues relating to people in a way that I feel can outlast my stay in town. Maybe a defense mechanism from my childhood years. The cheating allows me to ruin the relationship before I allow myself to really commit to something, or even, dare say, feel something. At worst, become attached to someone, besides my immediate family.
So what to do with all this information. Push the publish button, and allow the program to archive it with all the other emotion breakthroughs that I publish and lose.
Conveniently.

Because I think I may be beginning a binge. It is really essential to have the motnth unlimited, because then I don’t feel bad about going. Otherwise, paying everyday just seems to add up….however, paying once, and going everyday is already starting to pay off. I feel it. I feel freshness coursing through my my blood. I feel oxiginated. At first, I felt a little funny in my stomach going into it. Within the first three postures, I began to feel dizzy, and instead of calming myself down, and breathing through my nose, repeating my mantra, I let the mind wander, and grasp the thought of feeling dizzy, and feeling I couldn’t do it. The teacher noticed, and called me out on it. I had fallen out of standing bow pulling pose, sat down in japanese syle prayer position when he told me standup, said the class was waiting for me. I stood up immediately refreshed, knowing full well I had just played a little game in my head and it held the rest of the class up. I should not have been so selfish to think that i am the only one who is feeling sick, or tired. I vow to try my best not to do that again.
During the back series, the second posture requires you lay face down, arms flat against the floor under the body, palms down. From there, you work each leg, first relax the left, lift the right, then relax the right, lift the left. Now. Mouth to the towel, kiss the floor, lift both legs, knees locked toes pointed, roll foward roll foward. I had some very interesting emotions arise, at one point felt like crying. Ending with a sigh of relief. I think maybe I had some repressed emotions in my muscles that I haven’t worked through. The ultimate flex, tightening of those muscles helped to release them and allow me to fully relax. At least for twenty seconds.
:)
On that note, I just got out of class, (I have never felt more energized at 11am), and no. nope nope nope, I didn’t see him yesterday either. No, I pretty much did exactly as I had thought I would. That is make cookies and pass out. Actually, I passed out on the couch, didn’t even make it to my bed til long after 3am. Definately asleep by 10:30pm. but nope, I didn’t meet up with him. There is a show tonight at Canes, and I was thinking of inviting him there, see if he’s down with Eligh and the Grouch (cuz everybody knows I am…..). I think that three yoga classes was enough to clean my mind of all apprehensions. That doesn’t mean that I am going to not go this much (because I gotta month unlimited baby!!!!), but it does mean that tonight might be a good night for a date. It will be loud and tight, regardless of whether he is tight or not, and there will be drinks, which we all know helps bring down those first kicking it jitters.
Ah. Wish me luck. And if you are in SD tonight, there’s a dope show going on at Canes. But if you know then you probably already know.
have a super day.
super sick

looks like today will be a replay of yesterday. I wanted to go! God how I wanted to go. But lets be honest here folks. I’m extremely insecure about traveling out into the world as far as men are concerned, and I think making porn has a little something to do with it. I’m so used to being immediately comfortable with guys (because at work we go from not knowing eachother to knowing about eachohthers everything in 5 seconds). And so here I am comfortable with people because it is what I have trained myself to be, but then whenever I go out, there are always moments where I can’t help but question my judgement, because sometimes peoples judgements are changed considerably when Ii begin to open up. And let me ask you this…..should I be honest about my job? I mean, I am proud of what I do, and that is not an issue. But as a matter of like, security, should I be open and honest about my shit? I mean, you can’t tell me that it doesn’t change this conversation. Okay, I will tell you something now, that I haven’t told anybody. Well, not anybody I know anyway. Sometimes I lie. Sometimes I’m honest. It all depends on what kind of mood I’m in, or how much time I plan on spending with the person. If I think that I may hang out with em more than once, then there is a chance I will be honest. But the other day I was sitting on the beach, (I don’t know why this all just came up, but hey, clouds will come and they will pass….) in my itsy bitsy, all oiled up and trying to read mr. miller, and all things aside, I was approached by at least 4 different men. I told eachone something different, and saw how “what kind of girl” I presented myself as was the deciding factor in how the guy acted. And yes, they were different men, but lets face it. It’s san diego, beachville usa, and there is pretty much one type-a thing out….chumps.
1. he walks up to me and says, mind if I sit here?
I say-in my bitchiest way possible- “there is quite a bit of open beach right?”
H: “yeah, it is a nice day huh…so, you like to read huh?”
M: “No, I hate it. I just do it because I have to.” (never looking up from the book….tropic of cancer…..)
H: “Oh that sucks. Cuz you’re like in school or something?”
M: “Nope. No school.”
H: “Is it your job like? Like what do you do?”
M: “I don’t Do anything.” at this point in the conversation, I have have still not looked up from the book, and well, it continues until I tell him I’m a trust fund baby involved with this gazillion air oil guy in La Jolla (which he buys, in his LA hat and shit) and I don’t work or go to school and all I do is shop, and sin. To make up for my sins (because lord knows his mother is a God fearing woman) I attend this book class with the holy woman herself and have to have tea with her this afternoon. I have to ask him to leave. So I can read. Because I hate it.
Another dude I told I was a Librarian from New York.
Another I said a lesbian:
H: “So do you have any good advice?”
M: “Yeah, don’t be so fucking typical.”
The last I was finally honest, and I said listen. I’m trying to read. I’m sorry to be a bitch, but please dude. Can’t a woman just chill? (He sat down and continued to talk to me for another twenty minutes regardless of my opening statement.) I told him I make movies. But that I was vacationing. It’s all very complicated, and Im kinda paranoid (hahahhahah imagine that wouldja?). And where is my bring it all back together question?
I don’t know how to present myself to people sometimes. Is this a very common occurrance? Do most people find themselves socially inept at some point? am I taking the cheap way out and blaming it on the skin flicks?
And mostly, how do I build relationships if I feel like I have to lie initially in meeting someone. Because it’s just easier. Do I need to laminate a bunch of flash cards with all the same questions I’m asked and hand em to the person so they can read em, and we can get on acting like normal people with normal concerns? And is this too much of a rant? Man. Yes, I’m beginning to think I’m losing it. It’s been entirely healthy for me to take off this time, but when I go out and its not LA and not everybody is a part of porn valley, its kinda awkward. Whatever. I need to take a deep breathe. All this tip tap tapping is getting me worked up, and the faster my mind goes, the faster the tapping, and so I stop tapping and b.r.e.a.t.h.e. Looks like I’m going to yoga again today. I want my burn to be healed so that I can do the postures to my best ability. In savasana, I find myself not quite able to fully relax (yes, the burn is healing nicely, I will post a picture up here soon…,), what with the towel rubbing directly across my skin. But it is remarkably improved. A nice fresh pink color with portions of my skin tone coming through. On the road to wellness I am. Savasana, and the 25th posture, sitting head to knee, I pull and it iritates the wound, so I go easy, slow, sometimes I lift the leg entirely and cheat. But I figure the beauty of yoga is truly that you are your only competitor. In fact, the only one to push for is yourself. Such an inward and upward struggle. ahhh. yes. Class.
Okay. After class I will attempt to meet with Frisco again. We’ll see. I might end up making cookies and watching So you think you can dance.
hahahah…..try not to be so fucking typical huh?

So, I met this guy a couple weeks ago at the Wavehouse, (which is this dope bar right on the beach in san diego). If I haven’t mentioned wavehouse before, let me now relate to you the large amount of fun this bar contains. There are two different wave pools, one for boogie boarding, with a small wave, more just rushing water over an upward sloped soft matt thingy thing. The other wave provides the perfect platform to form the perfect wave, I’d guess about a 7 foot wave, where one can surf, or wakeboard, or I guess body board if your a total nut. And the all around these two wave pools are flocks of beautiful women. In bathing suits. With drunk goggles on. In another area of the bar is the drinking games section, where legally drunken fools throw bean bags through holes, or smash ping pong balls down on dirty beer covered tables. well, while playing a round of beer pong, (or at least waiting to…) I met this cute guy who’s name shall be, um……Frisco. In honor of his Frisco hat….now the first time I saw this dude i wasn’t feeling my top cuteness, so I layed low. I saw him again two weekends later, and since I had a little booze in me, I found the liquid courage to go up and talk to him. Turns out his name is ironically similiar to Mr. X, (which is something I’m not even gonna look into hahahha), so even in my intoxicated state, I was able to remember the whole thing at the end of the night, or day, considering we left wavehouse around 5:30. we had originally intended to meet up later that evening, but circumstanes made it so we didn’t, and well, after the fourth, and the shenanigans in Ohio, we haven’t spoken since that one day in wavehouse. well, last night I get a text, asking me to lunch (to which I reply that would be nice smiley face). Today? we’ll see if we go to lunch, I don’t mind either way, although I would enjoy it, I’m also really looking foward to yoga, and maybe would it improve my mood if I had a little stretch before I saw him? Like, there are a couple male performers I know who beat off pre scene, so they aren’t as sensitive….maybe I should have a little mental release pre date.
And is this what dates are? hmmm. I don’t know about this. It all seems a little intense. But he’s a homie of a homie, and god, I feel like I’ve written about this all and I just haven’t taken the time to look honestly, so I will and then maybe apologize for going on about the same thing.
OOOOHHHHHH!!!!!! I just remembered (via Bud Bleeze sitting here next to me, and yes we are speaking again, cuz as much as we drive eachother nuts sometimes, our friendship runs way too deep….) I was watching “Its news to me” which is this show on cnn, and the people have control what is on the news, there is this website called WeFeelFine.com, and it is the tightest website anywhere. There are all these little colored atom like balls floating around and you pick one and click on it and it shows you, depending on the color, a feeling that someone somewhere in the internet recently felt, and there are links to the thought so you can read it in its context. I spent 3 hours yesterday reading other peoples thoughts and feelings, and let me tell you…..
Actually, go to the website and you tell me.
www.WeFeelFine.com
the tightest website on earth.
go feel with the world….and let me know what you think.

So you wanna hear the silly trip I’ve been on for the past week? You know that movie airplanes, trains and automobiles right? well, it turns out that every person is entitles one “real life” experience….
on the 10th of July, I flew out to Columbus OH to do this little soft core piece. I was actually really stoked on it, cuz it was for this british television company called Bullseye, and we did a little bit on how in america, if you want, you can hire this company out of Cincinatti to fly you up in the air in this tiny cessna, and wait for it, wait for it, YOU GET TO JOIN THE MILE HIGH CLUB! I found this very appealing because I’ve always wanted to get fucked thousands of feet in the air, and I’ve never wanted to go to federal prison (which is the current place I would end up if I were to fuck on say, Southwest…)
Anyway, the company hired this nice little backwoods boy from Kentucky to come out and act as my boyfriend…..and what a good boyfriend he was! His name was Ray, and man, they just don’t make nice wholesome boys in cali anymore. Well, we get up in the air, fool around, and land like its all no problem. Fantastic. we say our goodbyes, and the Brit Ian, who hired me, starts the drive back to Columbus so I can catch my 7:00 flight.
Delta is big on delaying flights. So because mine got pushed back to 8 something, I then missed my layover in atlanta. Which means that I was destined to spend the night in HotLanta, (and we all know I get down with the hot ATL).
NO NO NO NO…..I want to go home friends! So what do I do? I sweet talk this Delta lady into letting me ride back to LA on a flight leaving Columbus around 8:00pm, same night. And they let me, surprisingly. In fact, the whole experience was a little surprising. I got the golden ticket, you know the one that makes them super search you, cavatie, and all that nonsense. So when I’m getting the pat down, the lady asks if I mind if we do it right out in the open…..I smile and reply “its fine by me. Nobody ever pats me down like this anymore”….talk about commotion eh? she starts cracking up, search wand in hand, while the guy next to me whispers “why don’t I buy that…”
back to the plain. Well, I arrive in LA at 11:00 pm. No time to catch a train. So I call the ol roomie Ty n9ne, and beg for him to come rescue me for the night. Fortunately, I was well lubricated (from the plane ride and the airport bar in ohio) and my awesome skills of communication paid off. He showed up in the 5th terminal within a half hour, and we were on the way home. Well, to his home, seeing as how mine is now in sd, and what a home it is! He just moved in, doesn’t quite have his bed set up, so it was couch city for both of us till the am. 7am actually, he goes to work. I sleep till 11. wake up. phones dead. no house phone, because lets face it, who really has house phones anymore? I’m stuck in canyon country till he gets home and can take me to the train station. well he gets home at 10pm, which means that its another night in lala land for me. the next day is almost and exact repeat, except that night I decide fuck it, I may as well just stay seeing as how I have to shoot up here in la, and while I’m at it, lets go to the Tech n9ne concert, for good measure.
what a fucking concert.
the 13th, I have my agency come and pick me up from Ty n9nes place, and whisk me off to work for the lovely and incredibly strong woman, Nikki Hunter. Now there is a chick who makes inspiration rise from your belly like tears from that biblical chicks eyes who did all the feet washing. Nikki is tough, and for those of you who know her, you know this already. For those of you who don’t, get to know her. And I know that you’ll be pleasantly surprised….
after a day with nikki, I make my rounds via driver back down to the office so I can say hello to my favorite accountant, and of course to my agent. After that, finally, back on to a train, a 7:00 train, southbound for “fullerton, anahiem, san juan cap oceanside, solano beach and san diego” (insert bell ring here). by 11:40, I’m home. Exhausted. All I want is a little time to breathe. But nope, right back on the gravy train, also known as southwest airlines, to work for a little aussie named Chanta Rose. talk about a fucking woman right? well, she is equally tough I would have to say, battling with cancer on and off for the past two years, and she still has a smile, and a laugh that will bring you to your knees.
I beat the hell out of two poor boys yesterday. I think one liked it, and the other didn’t.
Finally, on my way home last night on the 7:30 plane out of the biggity biggity O. Arrive in SD by 9. home by 9:30. Smoking a blunt by 10.
Now what am I going to do you ask? well, I’ve requested the next month off, so I’m not quite sure really. I intend on catching up on some painting. Taking some pictures, for the site, and then maybe do a little dancing. I’m going back to Ohio to dance in mid August, so I think it may be best to get it down pat. Make the show a show.
but for now, I’m just thankful to be home. Thankful for everything really.
God how I’ve missed my bed.

The fourth is generally a very drunken day. They say that tons of duis happen around the 4th, and tons of brawls, and tons of your stereotypical whorey ness. hahahah…..well yes, the 4th was all of those things. I managed to make my way down to the beach by 10, (which was funny, cuz you can’t drink on the beach till noon, and everybody was just sitting there, looking at eachother, daring eachother….), spent a good two hours playing in the water, (and nope, didn’t wear the thong bikini, seeing as how it was such a family oriented day and all), and managed, after a little carne asada and a chicken kabob, to burn the hell out of my little leg. In fact, you know those burns that chicks (usually its chicks cuz we are the only ones getting on motorcycles with shorts of skirts on) get on the lower calf, from the tail pipe? yes. that is the exact placement of my burn. Its fucking ugly. I don’t know what to do. I kinda feel like my agent is gonna be heated, not that I really give a flying fuck cuz its not like i can do anything except what I’m already doing, which is neosporining the hell outta it.
But nothing is more fun that a BBQ at the beach with some of your closest homies, with some good food, great drink, and an inspiringly patriotic celebration.
maybe I’ll tatoo a flag over my scar.
hope your 4ths were dope.