Your Neighborhood Professional Deviant

Some days I love being a kinkster and being a part of the scene/profession. Some days I want to set people on fire. Slowly. One match at a time.   Go ahead and laugh. Think I'm kidding. Meanwhile I'm stockpiling matches like the Little Match Girl... of Hans Christian Andersen's worst nightmares come true.     Tee hee?   Look, I have been debating Financial Domination with other kinkster for years. YEARS. I have been standing up for a perfectly reasonable fetish, not just because other kinksters think it's a bad/fake fetish, but also because the Insta-Dommes of the internet are dragging the kink down into the proverbial mud.     I just can't stand by and let it happen. I'm too much of a stubborn Bitch.   Some of you know the term "Insta-Domme" from My past rants. For those new to this title, let Me explain.     Firstly, it's not just the financial domination fetish that gets these wanna be's. It's all over the kink spectrum...

Before I get into this story of WTFery, I want to make it VERY clear that I do NOT in any way dislike people who have weight issues of any kind. I’ve had weight problems, I’ve dated chicks who the "norm" consider to have weight problems. NOW! Onto the fun… I was waiting in line at, of all places, Nature’s Table, for My chow. The very obese lady ahead of Me suddenly, and quite loudly exclaimed; “Ew this is fucking disgusting. It’s more disgusting than being gay!” My head snapped around and My brows shot for the ceiling at such speeds that there were actual sound effects heard by all. This behemoth cunt looks at Me and snears, “What? You got a fuckin problem? What are ya? Queer?” Adding in a lil dot dot dot for dramatic pause: … Soooooooooooooooooooooooo…….. I couldn’t get My brows any further up into My hairline, as just hiding up in My bangs wasn’t good enough for them. “Yes I am queer, actually. Please allow Me to clarify something here, for I do not wish to misconstrue. If ...

Trying so hard to get back into a shape I approve of. I approve of this shape lol... You know why I hate doing push ups/crunches? I've had back issues since I was a teenager and just... ow. Can we say OW much? Cause I sure can say OW... and not even the GOOD kind of ow! As a sadomasochist, I have the whole Good Ow/Bad Ow thing down. Down like the high school slut beneath the bleachers. And as said sadomasochist, My variables for Ow are rather plentiful. As a sadist, I am good at giving you an Ow that you like. I am also good at giving you an Ow that you wont like. Either way is good for Me, unless their is jail time involved... hur hur. As a masochist, I have Ows that I enjoy receiving, and Ows that I can SO live without. Back pain from sit ups is definitely a Bad Ow.

To Shop or not to Shop.... or is it Alas, poor face of mine, I shopped her well! Yes I use Photoshop on My images. Cameras are not perfect and neither am I but I damned well want to look like I could be. So a camera makes me look too Caucasian Pink, I adjust the reds vs yellows. I remove blemishes. I take out graininess. ONOES! FALSE ADVERTISING! In a world where an ad for MASCARA shows a woman wearing FAKE LASHES, and swimsuit models are Photoshopped to appear slimmer? I think I'm a minor offender here. Sheesh! And one last think, which may burn bridges, but hey, I'll bring the marshmallows. If you don't like that I am airbrushed, be it by a photographer, an art tech guy who edits for a magazine or website, or Yours Truly...bye bye! There are some rare photos out there on the web that are 100% untouched. Maybe you will find them as you walk into the setting sun, which had its color boosted 75% before it went to print.

Let's take a moment to talk about trash. I don't mean table scraps and junk mail in a Hefty bag... I mean trashy people. It's really hard to hide trash. They don't really make trash camo. But some folks sure do try! You can slap on a gown and pearls but you're still gonna get bombed on Pabst and talk shit about the other beauty queens back stage. They can take you to Le Bernardin and you're still gonna stuff the silverware into your John Deere purse. Clive Christian perfume and a Marc Jacobs dress wont cover up that nickel-plated church key in yer mouth.

You know those zits that are the size of Rhode Island, and never come to the surface? They lurk under the skin like painful trolls under a bridge, hiding and making life miserable? Whoever invented those needs to be kicked repeatedly in the genital area until death occurs. Just sayin. Ow. Fucking ow. I seem to always get them on My chin. Nowhere else. So not only are they painful, but they don't help My money either. Giant, swollen, painful chin. Cute. I mean really, who wants a stripper who looks like Jay Leno? Well, maybe this guy would but...

Fuck you, Boxing Day . And take St Stephen with you. Once upon a time, in 1977, your beloved Hostess was supposed to be born on Christmas Day. Yeah, and I was going to be named Noel. Thankfully, on that part, I was stubborn. My great aunt's dog was named Noel. Do I fucking look like Indiana Jones? Despite My penchant for whips... So 4ish hours late, there I was. All cute and newborn and cranky at the chilly hospital air. Happy birthday to Me. Oh, also Happy Boxing Day! For a while, it was rather ace to have a birthday the day after Christmas. Extra presents! Wooohooo! Oodles of gifts for miles. My mother's side of the family did well and, in general, the presents were a plenty. This was until I turned oh... maybe 12? Then it was "oh hay, have a combination present !" ... Let's examine this with some visual aids, shall we? This is a standard calender for the month of December. Do we see how the 25th and the 26th have separate boxes? Yes well, I tried to explain to ...

14 years ago, almost 15, I legally wandered into the world of BDSM. I say legally because I was dabbling for fun as a teen, before I was legally old enough to do so in public or for a living. I started My path as a lifestyle and professional Domme. I eventually ended up a switch in the bedroom. I like to think that I learned a lot over the years. Learned from hands on, from observing. Learned about the How To parts of it all, and the Why parts. Granted, there is a lot of it that I cant fathom as far as the Why goes but... very little really makes Me mad. OK so here's what we know: Gay man and lesbian woman enter a BDSM relationship together. Not very common but it happens. He's the Dom, she's the submissive. Sure, nonsexual BDSM relationships happen. Ok. Fine. Cool. They're claiming an Open Relationship. Which makes sense since... yanno... they don't fuck each other. Sure. Ok. Right on. They're getting married. Faux weddings so that folks can get benefits and ot...

...and yer brain. Just sayin. *sigh* I know that we the folks in the Adult Entertainment Industry say it until we're blue in the face... but making generalizations about us sucks. It sucks and it uses too much teeth. Ow. Sure, some folks who do what we do don't care what gets said about us. And in a way I believe that it's a good mentality. But I'm the type of person who thinks that an educated hater is tolerable, where an ignorant one needs to be set on fire. If you know the TRUTH about who I am and what I do, and you still wanna hate? Cool. Have at it. But if you are guessing and generalizing and leaning on the stereotype crutch? Fuck off. Today I heard, yet again, more bullshit stereotyping about strippers. Yippee. Allow Me to use this blog post as a soapbox to set a few things straight, ok? Strippers are not always whores, drug addicts, stupid, etc. Yes, there are some dancers who hook on the side. Yes some provide extras in the clubs. Yes some do drugs. And hell ye...

(I would like to thank Google for the images in this post. None of them are Mine, nor do they depict anyone who was actually at the scene of the fashion crime) So, The Jay and I hit up the Thrill Kill Kult/Lords Of Acid show yesterday. Much win. But it was such an... odd mix of fashion there, I'm a bit confused. What happened to dressing for an occasion? A show such as this brings to mind the following: I wasn't expecting to see Business Casual, PTA Baribe, or a herd of Club Paris folks. WTF? Really? Even a half-assed, Hot Topic effort would have been nice. Maybe I've become an elitist Bitch? I hope so.

No. No you can't. It really slays me how often and how quickly "Can I watch?" comes out of mouths in response to the idea of a woman being with another woman. Don't get Me wrong, I dig some hot Girl On Girl action in porn and art and in books. I am an equal opportunity pervert. But seriously guys? If you hit on a chick and she says that she's already committed to a woman and/or she is only into chicks, why would you just blurt out "CAN I WATCH? HYUCK!" ? A lot of you wouldn't do that if the chick's response to your amorous advances was "I am already fully committed to a wonderful dude" . Granted, some of you would. But what your voyeuristic preferences are is not in question here. What really puts a bee in My butt is how easily some of ya'll demand to watch something that, in the case of My personal relationships, is not an open arena sort of thing. I don't sell tickets when it comes to sleeping with the person I am committed ...

On Monday nights, at Tootsy's, I'm the Door Wench. I sit at the front door of the club, check ID's, and handle cash. Make change, charge admission (only for the under 21 crowd, Mondays are free otherwise), and take the bar fees from the dancers. Simple shit, despite some drama from time to time. Primary objective? Make sure the 18 - 20 year olds pay, get arm bands, and have heir hands marked. Also, chase away the under 18 jackasses. Fine. Not a hard thing to do overall. WELL! Tonight a kid came in with a Florida ID that had him at being 22. Yeah, he had a baby face, but that happens. Hell, most folks think I'm in my early 20s. Fine. Looked fine, had the hologram, the secondary photo, etc. Kid gets in. Cool. He asks what the drink specials are. Rather common question from the 21+ folks. Not very common for the underagers. They're usually "HUR HUR BEER". Later on, while my manager was standing next to me chatting, another kid comes into the foyer. He looks ...

Sometimes, when I have a hyper, silly moment... things get ranted about and rambled upon... that are just strange. Tonight, Viror and I discussed vehicle sex. And I don't mean like, Transformers porn. I mean like, fucking in a car. Countless rockers have written songs about carfucking. Nickleback did it. Meatloaf went on about it for about 8 and a half minutes about the subject. Motley Crue, Loggins & Messina (and then Poison revisited it), I could go on... and that's just rock music. Sheez. But WHY? I never found car sex to be all that awesome. I mean, there's a seat belt buckle digging into My back, the window against My feet is FRIGGIN COLD, My head keeps hitting the door. Fun times! Wait.. what? Or there's the chiropractors wet dream of Me doin it in the front seat, Gods forbid! My spine is packing it's bags just by Me blogging this now. Sweet crispy christ! People make jokes about it. Songs are sung about it. It's portrayed in movies and videos. But am ...