and I already hate myself for it. I already have the guilt of a catholic mother who just found out her daughter sucks dick for a living. This may have been one of the hardest things I have ever done (aside from quitting cocaine), and only ten months into it, I buy a pack. Why you ask?
Many reasons. None of them good.
1. I am fucking stressed. I feel like everything I have worked so hard for in Los Angeles is falling apart. Whether its because of my move to SD, or some funky rumors that are circulating around porn valley, I have pretty much lost my mind today, and all logic therein. How quickly adjusted to that slim tube cradled in my fingers, like a moment never passed. Didn’t miss a beat.
2. I’m incredibly lonely….and those little 20 soldiers have been my friend for 9 years. Never asking questions, never wanting anything, except another cigarette, and always filling up my spare time. The time that I don’t know what to do with my hands…
3. I don’t know. I feel weak. I feel like I can’t just quit.
I’m smoking the 2nd cigarette of that pack, and I already feel sick. I can’t even enjoy the fucking thing because I have placed so much pressure on myself about not turning back, and being a strong woman. Not enjoyable.
SO why am I writing about it? Because its true. Because I hate them. I want evidence. Proof that these little fucking things that a part of me claims to love are in control of my actions. I want to be able to look back on this day and say, why did I do that? Why did I spend 5 bucks on some shit that will just kill me quicker than I kill myself….
I’m going inside right now to wash them all under my sink. Cleanse them of the filth and weakness that they remind me of. Brush my teeth and go to bed. Greet a new day.
Everyone is allowed moments of weakness Penny, even you.
I can’t beat myself up over this. It will pass.
Bye bye cigs.

Its been nearly two days since the blazes started. I somewhat recall running out to Kai’s rooftop deck to see the smoke after the Raider game on sunday, thank you Negro Modello. I called my little sister to make sure that she was okay. Fine fine fine, mom has already called her said pack your important shit and bounce. She is staying in La Jolla. Everything is fine.
Monday, I fly up to Oakland to shoot for the wonderful Chanta Rose, and on the way up, we see blazes in Malibu Canyon, nothing as far as SD. I fuck Christian in the ass, get fucked a little myself, and hop back on a flight south.
Darkness falls over California, allowing the seriousness of the fires to shine brightly through an otherwise black night. seeing as how the flight from the biggity is no more than an hour ten, one can imagine the amount of burning witnessed by southwest passengers, on the left side of the boeing 300, mouths open. eyelids peeled. California is on fire. It started halfway through the flight, and didn’t stop, because we landed in the middle of it. Fucking insane. It was so sad, and so beautiful. Fire has that deeper meaning, like in books, when something burns, it means that it has been cleansed, and from the ashes, new life may arise. My sister actually has one of those things tatooed on her hip. What the fuck is it. god…..I really can’t even think of it. Maybe later, when I forget I forgot.
This morning, I hopped on a train predawn. I thought it was predawn. Until I realized that the sun was shining, but the smoke from the fires wasn’t allowing light to reach our normally sunny haven. Not until the train hit irvine did it totally clear, and even then, you could see smoke in the distance. To think that someone actually started a fucking fire in the OC. WHAT? Are you shitting me? Like our firefighters don’t have enough to deal with, Mother Nature and all. Santa Ana winds causing havoc on a supreme american hotspot. warm weather people. this is a little too hot. Bullshit.
Well, I did my job with the quickness, (a box cover for Playgirl with Justin Magnum, sexy little monkey), decided to try out Los Angeles “subway” system. WHAT???? when did this all happen? This is fucking great! About time LA got up to date with shit and started using public transportation. And for cheap too!!!! Man. If only it went out through the valley. It would pretty much be the most awesome thing ever. It doesn’t matter though, I’m already hooked. I love subways, and especially bart. I might just get married on BART. Pretty much my favorite. When I was a little girl, my dad would race bart. not like the stupid ohio or wherever parent who raced the train and killed everyone, but like, when we were on the freeway he would tell me and the siblings we were racing, and since he was dad, we just believed him. We also thought everyone else was going to DisneyLand when we were, and that was why there was traffic. Anyway….
I get off metrolink, run upstairs, see that my train to SD is leaving in 4 minutes, hop skip and jump down to track 9 and up the stairs. Double check with the attendant, “south yeah?” “yeah, you fine girl” and up the stairs we go, downstairs being for the disabled. As soon as I reach the 6th step, I see this guy smiling at me. he’s older, got a flat top haircut, a little bit of a handle bar mustache, tube socks pulled up, something just isn’t right. He smiles, I recriopricate, head to my seat. Train is in motion. Come on baby, do the locamotion, and the ding ding rings over the intercom: “Welcome on Amtrack. blah blah blah blah blah, if you are over 21 you can participate in our alcohol program….blah blah blah” ding ding. Cerveza. Upon my return, I am greeted with another smile, right back atcha, and to my seat. mr smiley, from here on known as Little Bear, approaches and requests my company. “may I sit down”….”sure…go ahead”. Introductorys are made, and obvious conversation comes up. Our destination en route is en fuego. The whole fucking county is on fire.
P: “So, where you from?”
LB: “well, I just left Chino, but I grew up in the SD area….”
I know what that means. And I am not prejudice at all. That means you just got out of prison. that’s a step higher than jail. Well, I say hello, its no big deal, let him think that for a little while, I don’t know what he is talking about. Because he doesn’t know that we have something in common.
We both don’t want to talk about why exactly we are on this train headed south. He doesn’t want to tell me why he was in jail, and I don’t want to talk about why I suck dick for a living. Easy as that. Just not in the mood. And he isn’t someone that i am trying to impress or shock. I have a feeling that nothing I say can shock Little bear, a feeling that is so tempting, its almost a game to ignore it. Its like not smoking cigarettes. The ability to say no to myself is probably my biggest struggle…..that being said…..
“So, are you excited to see the fam? What are you guys gonna do first?”
“well, I haven’t thought about that, see I haven’t spoken with my sister in a year….”
way too close to home. I haven’t spoken with my dad in years. But this isn’t my story.
From Fullerton to Santa Ana, I tell Little bear about whats on fire, naming a couple places, tecate, ramona, julian, pretty much to rancho penasquitas, even to solana beach, people are being evacuated, forced to leave their homes. Grab the most important things As quickly as possible. Leave.
“Where does your family live?”
“Black Canyon”
I have no idea where this is, and ask if he is gonna call his brother, his sister, try and line something up for downtown san diego. Dumbshit, no cellphone, just got out of jail, obviously no way to fucking call. Not like they charged his nokia battery. I offer him my phone, and he takes a couple try’s to remember his sister’s number. He doesn’t want to speak on it through the earpiece. He wants it on speakerphone, feels more comfortable like that.
“Your brothers house is burned down. They went for your Uncle. He stayed on top of the hill, isn’t leaving his home. His land. Everything is gone. The Tribal Lodge even burned, that’s where one of your checks were. I don’t think we can get it back. I’m sorry. Do you want me to pick you up?”
Little Bears out of jail celebration quickly ended. His whole body slumped foward, his shoulders sinking into his chest, his head and eyes to the floor. He said the past couple fires just jumped their property. That he needs to sweat, and hasn’t for over a year. They lost everything. You still have your family. plants will grow, stronger. Buildings will be rebuilt, better. But memories, and family can never be replaced. If you still have these things, and the rest of your life is in ashes, then you are lucky. But my house didnt burn down. And I am truly sorry for your loss. I pray that you lose no more than you already have.
Little Bear excused himself momentarily, and returns with a feather, pokey party beaded, well loved. He began praying at our seat, praying for his family, for his brother, his uncle, his sister, all the people in his life. And then he handed me his prayer feather, and allowed me to offer a prayer to the grandfather, to everything that is, and as our train bombed down railroad tracks parellel to the pacific ocean, the smoke began to set on, the haze, thick air that reminded me of why I quit smoking. I love oxygen.
We shared another beer inbetween oceanside and solana beach, and he asks, “Should I even try and ask for your number?”
I reply, “Probably not, but I have honestly and truly enjoyed our train ride together.”
He shakes his head, hopefully thankful for my brutal honesty.
Before I get off the train, I give him a hug. I welcome him back into society, and tell him to keep his shit straight so he can continue to be a participating member and get drunk with cute girls on amtrak heading to the apocolypse. He thanks me for the beer and I leave, flying down the narrow stairwell, out onto the platform, and up the station stairs to my coache. My car is covered in ash. I have to back it up, and start driving so the wind blows it off, otherwise I am fairly sure it will scratch and this day will never leave. Earlier, when I left for LA I exited my car OCD happy because just as I pulled into the spot, the song ended, and I could pause my ipod right before another song started, but not know what song it is, and not have to restart it when i get back it, only play and we are off, a brand new surprise song, a little nutso like that.
Con Te Partiro….
Bocelli singing his fuckin heart out….
Southern California is on fire.

I went to work this morning in San Juan Capistrano. Well, not this morning, and not exactly work. 6:45 this morning, my alarm goes off, I stumble scratching my belly and tugging off my panties into the bathroom and turn on the water. HOT HOT HOT. okay, turn it down a touch, perfect, now, where is my toothbrush? ah yes, still packed, I fell asleep last night eating licorice and smoking pot. Oral B is in the bag, waiting patiently, to clean the chomps for a whole two minutes while I let the perfect water run over my sleepy body. By the end of the timer, I’m ready to shampoo, condition, scrub, dry, pat, dry, lotion, make-up, wake-up, time for coffee and a blunt before I leave to SJC.
At the coffee place, I see this little black lab puppy, and he jumps in my lap, all wet from the beachy morning dew he lay in earlier, so he kisses my face and wiggles in my lap while Kev makes my triple shot latte and Kai’s mocha with the little football sticker to keep everything in place when in route. Wake up kai, smoke two blunts actually, the first one was a warm up, and then really off to SJC to shoot two sets of solo stills.
Driving driving driving blah blah blah, ding, I’m here.
So I show up to this real nice, real square pad off the 5 to a tattooed gent smoking on the front lawn. Perfect. The photographer.
We head inside. We barely shoot anything. I’m there for a grand total of 2 hours. In fact, we go down to coffee and the atm at the exact two hour mark, and up to that point, I thought everything was cool. Real cool actually. Until he confides in me that it is possible, (now don’t call him crazy) that Johnny depp moved to France because of him. Well not directly because of him see, but earlier in his life, how much earlier is still in question, he had a bit of a herion problem. Well, this problem landed him at his buddy’s house in Silver Lake, where things were a bit on the under. Well, at some point, he began sending Johnny these gifts, kind of like a package where everything inside relates to something else, and had some sort of significance. Well, Johnny of course never wrote back, but started adding sublte things into his movies to let this photographer know that he knew, yes he knew what was going on. In fact, Johnny and he had a little game going with eachother, thus becoming arch-nemisis. Well, after Johnny sold the viper room, (yes, he called a couple times to make sure that his scripts had arrived, and well he was a bit fucked up when he sent them and he just wants to talk about it and make sure he didn’t scare anyone because he is well intentioned), he-said photographer- got a bit fed up. And since that movie 23 with Jim Carrey just came out, and he used to be in a band called the bogus clowns, and b is the 2nd letter of the alphabet and c is the 3rd, it was a bit ironic that Johnny was afraid of clowns because said photographer sent him pictures of him in clown attire playing guitar. Well, when Johnny announced that he is “moving to france because (he) can’t deal with SOME peoples demands and requests” well, I just knew it was about me and well, I hope you don’t think I’m too crazy….
At which point I said, “no, I’m with ya man…..do you know where the restroom is around here?”
I walked away, returning my empty coffee glass to the counter, and grabbing a roll of toilet paper from the counterperson, I locked myself in the restroom to make sure, just make sure, its not me.
I look at myself in the mirror, hands on the sink, purse slung over right shoulder.
“How much pot did you smoke today flame. You okay? you hearing shit?”
As I asked myself this, I realize that I can hear just fine, and nope, sure as shit this dude is fucking crazy. Time to roll out.
I walk jauntily back to the parking lot, ready and rarin to get south when he asks if I have any pot. I said sure, I guess we could smoke, how about right here. In broad daylight.
He says lets go back to his house.
I say, “why don’t you just get in my car”
We smoke…
he gets out.
I drive like fucking hell, the whole way home, calling the office, saying never again will I shoot for this guy. Nice as pie, but nuts as fuck.
No offense, if you are reading this, and you in some way relate to the story he just fed me, but you may be fucking nuts too buddy. It is quite possible that he needs mental help. He said they tried to make him go to rehab, and he said “no, no no”. I don’t know that rehab can help with this kind of issue. Delusional. insane. not quite with us, here on earth. I’m always a little unsettled by people that will get upset after writing someone famous letter (such as Johnny depp) and not receive a reply. Do you know how many letters he gets? How many fucking quacks are writing him asking things? scripts? dreams? total request live? And then to think that somewhere along the way he decided to go out of his way to fuck with you?
I shouldn’t even write about this type of person, because it is the type of person who will go bonkers and hunt you down. I could end up being his next Johnny. Penny depp.
hey, that kind of has a nice ring to it…..the french are down with mistress’s oui? Supposedly if you aren’t married with a mistress, you can’t multi-task.
That being said, I’m going to go. Buy some bat cookie cut-outs. I need to feel halliweeny, and I figure cookies is always a good way to ring in a holiday. That and I want to enter a sugar coma free of thoughts about wierdo’s who claim to be my all time favorite actors archnemisis.
today, I met someone crazier than me.
And it frightened me.

Strange how the universe has a way of pulling together for you.
I’m going to sit back and ponder the reality of this statement. and take a hit off my blunt….

The guys that live above me have been getting out of control lately. They have this surf oriented thing, its like, a plank on a little pony keg, and you are supposed to stand and balance and “surf” on it. well, all the do is make fucking noise. And not just a little bit of noise. These motherfuckers are up there like a herd of fucking cow straight outta coalinga like they finally got loose, and aren’t goin to Harris Ranch for the big over easy. Whatever the fuck these boys are doing up there, it keeps me awake later than I feel I should be. It keeps me going a tad longer than is right. I had a strange night tonight.
the weather down here has been a bit cloudy, a bit rainy. Even though it tends to rain in the night, and clear by morning, there are those few lingering clouds that float aimlessly and try their darndest to remind you that the seasons are changing. Like I mentioned before, the leaves on my gardenia plant are changing. I can sit and watch them. this is something I love to do, almost like watching clouds, but in slow motion. it makes clouds seem like they are on crack. The change in weather brought a change in attire for all those San Diego residents, as I soon realized first step in to Fashion Valley, our local, lovable, outdoors mall. As soon as the sprinkles started, and the temp dropped to 69 (yes, I said it you may giggle), these silly bitches put on scarves and beanies! Ha! Silly women. they don’t even know what cold is. It took me about 20 minutes, actually the precise time it took to walk from my car to the Starbucks to get a soy Pumpkin Spice Latte, all whip cream, no sprinkles, to realize that I AM WEARING A SCARF AND A BEANIE. Hypocrisy transcends all cultures. Which reassures me, because I would like to masturbate this evening before I go to bed, and I would hate for something as silly as THAT to get in the way. Anyway, two parts of my attire came from someone who has been dancing across my mind. Not so much dancing as skating. ARHGHRHRGH! that is how I feel. Funny. It turns out I’m not alone.
I went to dinner with one of my best friends, Delish, to a local tapas bar, for some patatas a la Bravas and rioja, fantastic and fancy all at the same time. We are sitting there talking and he confesses that he can’t sleep. Lately, he has been staying up till like 3, just trying to get some shut eye, a little rest. I suggest a relaxation technique invloving flexing muscles and an elevator in which you floor by floor let go of all the day’s events, and he seems interested.
I sip my wine.
“What is the last thought that you think about before you pass out?”
He replies, “My x-girlfriend”
I ask, “Do you think you think about her because there is something left undone? Something you have to finish? Or because you just can’t let go?……”
he tells me that these are the two questions that he asks himself every night before he goes to bed. this is what keeps him up at night. And in his honest answer, peace sets inside my own heart, knowing finally, the answer to a question I have been asking for over a year now.

Of course I love him. I love every single piece of him. When he sent me those few words, it made my night. Honestly, I have been having a hard time with everything that has been going on lately, and this kind of shit makes you realize who you love and who you want in your life. And I do. I want him in my life. But I am a realistic woman. I know the lifestyle that we both lead, and the possiblity for both of us to succeed, although I do not know if it is possible when we are together. He may be my Zahir. Funny. A little switchy. But he knows. He is gone for now. And he isn’t getting in touch with me to get back into my life, he is just doing it to let me now that he is out there, and that he still cares. And no matter what happens in this world, no matter who goes crazy and kills people, no matter if we never see eachother again, that he cares enough to say something. And I know he does. I just have to let it all go for right now. He is in the middle of the desert, and I am in France, a sidewalk cafe, coffee and sunglasses. We will find eachother.
If it’s right.

So Saturday morning, I prepared myself for a weekend in Vegas with a very dear friend of mine, Vic Lagina of Brazzers. Well, the whole brazzers crew was there, Toni, Steph, Ben and Vic, another pretty lady who’s name I didn’t catch, and myself. First we went to a fine restraunt at the top of the palms called Nove, for a meal of filet’s, mashed potato’s and a grand finale of make your own cannoli, yum yum yum, yum to the third power. Then it was upstairs to the playboy club and moon for a night of dancing and loud conversation. I took a little thizzle and spent the night of a great roll, then back to Vics house for a comedown hottub session, some drinks and a little vapir action to bring us back to earth, and off the dance floor. then we slept,
Sunday, laying in bed all day, literally watched every single game from the comfort of my bed, Go Eagles, I don’t even wanna talk about the raiders (fuck the chargers folks and that Goddamn LT, someone woulda had to shoot him to stop the motherfucker), and then watched some of the saints game, but ended up changing it in for some Dexter followed up by Curb your Enthusiam, and finished the day off with some yummy take-out and another vapir session.
What a weekend. What a night right? I feel like yesterday was so fuzzy, I feel I blinked my eyes 5 times, and in those five blinks, I watched all the games all the shows slept, thought, smoked, and moved on. Have I moved on? Is that what I am trying to do here? No, I’m just trying to have a sleepy Sunday. I’ve been singing “hey jude” for a week straight now, wake up every morning with “la, la la lalalala…..lalalala…..Hey Jude…..” Take a sad song, and make it better. What am I doing? Its 7am I leave here at 9:05 back to sd to go to my annual, (yes, I am sharing with you because I am excited to go to my annual, because well gosh its been a year, and I always like check-ups, gotta make sure everything is running smooth) at 10:45 and well lets all just cross our fingers that my goodies are still goodie. I’m sure they are. They’ve got to be….
otherwise I’m out of a job
I hope you all have a wonderful day, sexy sultry, I wish that everybody is at one point today, wearing a shit eating grin for absolutely no reason other than the simple fact that we are alive, and today is a beautiful day.

Between the Chico and Brian incident, porn valley has been taking some seriously tough blows. I’m not sure what to say actually. No words can convey the amount of loss involved.
I have known Brian for three years now, and he has always been wonderful to me. His store and medication brought relief to many very sick patients, and everytime I saw him there, he had nothing but positive things to share. Now his story is all over Headline News and the tragedy can’t be worse: The road rage incident in Los Angeles. Brian and another man were “jockeying for position” and their actions proved to be the end for an innocent 5 year old boy. The accident left the boys mother and 2 month old sister in critical condition. Both men were booked on murder charges, this supposedly being Brians 3rd strike…. Everyone has lost so much here.
And then the press release about Chico, relating him to Haleys death, something that had been whispered among close friends, but never said publicly. Now this. Saying he killed her, then himself. Tragic.
What is fucked about the situation is that terrible things happen everywhere, in every business, under all circumstances, but because we are such a close knit family, the grief is intensified by the intimate knowledge of eachothers being. We are forever connected by the simple fact that we have stripped down everything that distracts from that which is. Once you have been completely naked, honest, intimate with a person, you cannot walk away uneffected. With every push and pump of your partners hips, memories are created, and emotions arise that one can never dismiss, because to ignore them would be to devalue the experience. When a man or a woman has been inside of you, a piece is left. There is no turning back.
Always funny how tragedy brings people together. I’m tempted to text a certain someone, altough I am so stubborn, I don’t know that I could. And he is far more stubborn than I, and would never text back. Leave it to bull, but its times like these when I want to call the people around me and let them know I love them. That for all the times we’ve been on set, or for days when I get pissy when a check isn’t ready, or mornings we’ve sat and drank coffee peacefully. For all the girls I’ve sat in a make-up chair next to, but never got to know, and for all the pa’s who have so much going on at home, and have to deal with arrogant cunts at work. For the men I’ve fucked over, and the ones I can’t seem to let go, I want to call the people in my life and let them know they mean something to me. For all the rappers, and the rockers, the guys on airplanes, and strangers in dreams. All the teachers who have dedicated their lives to teaching us something, in schools, monastarys, jobs and homes. For the guy next to me on the 101 who let me in in time for my exit, and the lady that makes my coffee in Studio City. Let them know that without their presence, my life would mean nothing. For the woman and man who made me, and my sibliings and family, for everyone who has ever crossed my path, I am thankful. I am thankful to have known you, and experienced you. For Haley, chico, and Brian, when our times were good, they were great.
For all of you….it can’t get worse than this right?
….famous last words

I started somewhat early this morning. Early considering it is Sunday, the day that we as a nation enjoy a lazy morning in bed and perchance some bacon and an egg or two sunnyside up. I rolled out of bed around 8:30, watered the plants, puttered down to the coffee stand, and then back up to my casa for a good morning blunt. Actually, I have been smoking half blunts, kind of joint sized. If a joint and a blunt made sweet passionate love, it would be a bloint. In any case…..
I got my homegirl Ry, and we grabbed (yes more) coffee, and headed over to Kai Blunts house. Little did we know he had a slumber party with 5 boys and they were all already up drinking and watching football. Ah yes sunday football. Everybody is so excited for the night game that they get shitfaced and pass out before the afternoon game is over. Thank god the chargers won, I have friends that were near suicide with how they have been doing lately. And I’m also stoked cuz they pushed Denver outta the way and WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAATTTTTTUUUUUPPPPPP RRRRRRAAAAAIIIIIIDDDDDDDEEEERRRRRSSSSSS! We didn’t play today, so I really don’t give a fuck, but I bet the dallas greenbay game was good. Missed it. Too busy jogging. Thats fine. I’m not too concerned. I’ve been trying my best to stay busy. To stay positive. Such shitty things going on lately…..
I can’t even talk about it anymore. I’m sorry. I’ve wanted to blog, but I haven’t known where to take it, and what even to say. How do you follow up on the last thing I wrote? I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe how many people go before their time….or maybe it is their time. Who am I to say when someones circle is complete. ugh. I wish I could wash these feelings off in a warm bath. Lavender and Vanilla until I sleep like a baby.
I met two really nice guys on the airplane on the way home from Oakland and Kink.com the other day. Both were really nice, but one was real cute….witty. Had a spark in his eye. I hassled him into giving me his card, (later when we were drinking jack and coke on the plane he admitted he was gonna give it to me anyway) and told him not to worry when he hesitated before describing a bachelor type situation with strippers and other such fast women or cars. I said nothing he said would surprise me, and I’m probably more trouble than all those girlies put together. He held back (which I like, because he was not about to be disrespectful), but by the end of our one hour and ten minute flight, and in between him tipping the stewardess and being confident, sexy and funny, I found myself playing with my hair, and touching my face. I caughty myself a couple times, even once he said something and when I laughed I leaned into his arm. When we were getting off the plane, I found myself blushing, making sure that I gave him my number. I was 100% honest with him about what I do, and he treated me exactly the same as he had when we were sitting in the A line. In fact, he even called me after it was all said and done, and apologized for not beleiving me, admitting he went home and googled me. He even apologized for googling me!
Little did he know I would fuck his brains out. I would even wake up next to him. He is the kind of guy I could see myself going out with at night to some little hole in the wall bar where he knows everybody and its nothing but laughs, cheap drinks, and serious eye fucking until we walk home to his house and bash in every room till we pass out. I could even see myself banging him in the morning, your classic morning breath spoon, eyes glazed over from the previous nights drinks and ruthless sex. HA! Can you imagine it? I would even cook this cat breakfast! Cuz I think he would still be fun to be around at that point! (Even though I would leave shortly after, claiming yoga, jogging, shower, or all of the above because I need space and oh man a night over? Eh….not trying to impose here…..)
So what am I gonna do? I’m gonna wait like 3 or 4 days and then text him that maybe we should have a drink.
At his bar.
Because he’s classy like that.
or so I hope.
But now I’m goin to the liquor store to get some Ben and Jerry’s Half Baked
mmmmmmmm

What a sad time. And a good girl.
There had been rumors circulating around adt.com and luke ford about haley for about a week now. I was sitting at a buddy’s house with Taryn and Sophia, playing on the internet when Taryn ran across one of said rumors. Sophia broke down, I wasn’t sure, and as taryn read the different versions of the now confirmed truth, one couldn’t help but hope this was a hoax. We called our agency and had people there researching, and doing all they could to find out. Sometimes these things take time. And to be honest, none of us wanted to believe that she was gone. I feel like we had just been partying together, out in vegas getting wild for avn, and penthouse, and we both rode the bull and had some drinks and made out a little bit…I didn’t want to believe it. I came home from LA, and read fox’s comment, and made a few more calls. Back up to LA over the past two days and the first day I’m up there Rob from my office reads Peter Warren’s AVN press release, confirming her death.
I have known her for a couple years now, and due to the nature of the industry, we never got that close. One small intimate moment we had was at a Playboy audition, where she confided that she was clean, and off pills. Trying to do something positive. This incident happened over a year and a half ago, and every time I saw her after that, we were either drinking, or smoking. I don’t know anything about her habits except that when we kicked it, we kicked it pretty hard. At that Avn vegas/penthouse party, she and Chico said they were going to have a Jewish wedding, neither Haley nor Chico being Jewish. Everytime I saw her, she had a smile on her face. We always laughed. Because there was always something to laugh about.
There really aren’t words that can put things right. It makes me so thankful for all the wonderful people I still have in my life, and I hope her next go around will be better. Less painful.
R.I.P Maryam Haley a.k.a. Haley Paige
:-(