The chaotic ramblings of a retired adult industry entertainer.


I’m just giving a middle finger to the world for now and doing me.  I’ve provided so much of myself freely.  My body, my thoughts, my name, my privacy, my life has all been out there for public consumption.  I gave so much and received nothing more than a few dollars and some (mostly unwanted) attention in return.

And it’s never enough.

I am still bombarded with emails and private messages from complete strangers.  People who demand answers about where I am and what I’ve been doing with myself.  Men begging me to get back into porn.  Spamming my social media pages with vulgar pictures of myself.  Telling me how much they “love” me as they’re making my life hell.  Not to mention the sickening amount of focus that many dudes seem to have on my daughters.

I take responsibility for making this bed.  But seriously, fuck ya’ll.

But since folks want to be nosy.  I’ve been hanging out with my kids, working, and in my free time, I’m trying to learn coding and other computer related skills.





I’ve had people email me and wonder why I stopped writing.  I didn’t stop.  I just haven’t been.


I was advised that it’s easier to maintain an online presence on Twitter.

I don’t want an online presence.

13 years of the sex industry has changed me and isolated me in ways that most people just are not going to understand.  And I’ve given up on trying to help folks understand.

Sometimes I get lonely and write up a blog post.

And you know who (for the most part) follows my blog?

My old fans.

Isn’t that some sick irony?





<a href="">Vague</a>


One of the most common questions I get asked at work is “how do I keep my wife/husband from finding out about this bank account?”  Seriously.  It comes up all the time.

You know who visits escorts the very most?  Married men.  Not military guys.  Not widowers.  Not young or inexperienced dudes.  Ninety-plus percent of the time it is married men.  The majority of them who claim to be there because their wives recently had babies…and now they don’t want to fuck often enough.

Just some stuff that I notice and think about when I see my social media friends doing the marriage thing.  Many, for the 2nd, 3rd, or 4th time…

For some reason, I’m just not at all interested in getting married.






<a href="">Age</a>


*****I don’t generally do any trigger warnings since the entire blog is a free-for-all of adult topics.  But if you’re at all sensitive…just skip this post*****



I’m not sure of the reasons why.  But the children are being eaten alive.  They know they are going to die.  Most seem oddly at peace with it.  Many have their favorite music playing to help distract them from the pain.

I’m forced to eat some of my son.  Carefully I scrape off the smallest pieces of his skin that I can get away with.  He’s being so brave and is really proud of himself for not crying.

My time is done and a man is there, ready for his turn.  My expectation (hope) was that he would be as cautious as I was.  I assumed that he’d try and drag the process out the same way that I did.  Attempt to minimize the boy’s suffering.


He digs right in.  Cutting, stabbing, consuming.  And he refuses to let me hold my sons hand during the process.  The boy is crying, and clearly in agony.  I’m frozen by the horror of it all and how helpless I am to do anything about it.  Even though I know my son is about to die, I can’t fully comprehend it.


I don’t have a good way to wrap this up.  My stomach still feels icky over this one.  I have nightmares almost every night, but this one is really sticking with me.  Probably because it hits too close to home.  No, I’ve obviously never had to eat a child.  But I am lost as to how to help one of my children who desperately needs assistance.  I still can’t wrap my mind around some of the things that have happened.  Feel like I’m living out a bad Lifetime movie or something.

Happy Holidays.


Tomorrow my son turns four years old.

At the time of his conception, I was living in a hostel (flophouse would be more accurate) in East Los Angeles.  Overwrought with grief.  I had basically settled into there with the intention of dying.

I was doing enough modeling and adult work to keep me housed and fed.  Went out dancing a lot.  Slept around.  Did far too much partying.  Fortunately, I never overdosed or developed a dependency.  Lord knows I deserved both.

It was a very bleak pregnancy.  And I can’t say that mothering him alone has been any easier.  Being a single mom is stressful, exhausting, and isolating.

My son saved my life.  Gave me a purpose that I never thought I’d have again.  Started my 30’s off on a preferable path.

The kid is intelligent and full of talents.  He is the very definition of an extrovert.  A little entertainer and everyone is his friend.  Can’t wait to see what the future holds for him.

Just praying that I can be the kind of mom he deserves.

Happy birthday to my little Sagittarius.  I love that little punk to pieces.


<a href="">Underdog</a>


Dancing is one of my most beloved things to do.  My preference is goth or industrial clubs.  I delight in dressing up, hitting the dance floor, and letting the music move me for hours.  No alcohol needed.  90% of the time I go alone.  Many nights I don’t speak to a single person.  Just slink in, dance, and exit once I’ve exhausted myself.  The dance floor is my happy place.

Recently I went to the Zelda symphony.  It was one of the most amazing experiences that I’ve ever had.  I’m not a gamer, but Zelda holds a very special place in my heart.  Some of my very first memories are of playing the original Zelda game.  I credit that game for developing my creativity and shaping my imagination.  The music was incredible.  Combined with the visuals and stories from Zelda…it all made for an unforgettable event.


Just wanted to take a break from gripping about the sex industry and how it’s impacted my life.  So there’s a little bit about me. 🙂


<a href="">Dancing</a>



I have no idea how many people I’ve been with.  There’s no way to ever know. Hundreds? Thousands? Honestly, the number would be staggering.  I most likely wouldn’t want to know.

Even though it’s said to be false, I think about that article that said women obtain some of the DNA from every man she’s ever had sex with.  You know what kind of monster that makes me?

Cells from all those deficient, fleshy, rancid, dense, pitiful excuses for men all swimming around inside of me.  Forever.

No matter where I go, or what I do.  There’s no washing it off.  No forgetting.

I can never just be me again.  And that’s something that I’m always going to have to live with.

But keep telling me how “harmless” the sex industry is.






<a href="">Proxy</a>































I’ve been casually texting back and forth with some dude from the internet.  We haven’t met in person yet, and this is very new.  Tonight I see a message from him that says:

“Are you affectionate?”

My reply: “Gonna have to be more specific.”

Him: “If we were together and I couldn’t keep my hands and lips off you, would that be a problem for you?  Would you feel the need to reciprocate?”

There were 100 different ways I wanted to reply in a way that would be the equivalent of “you’re an idiot” or “go fuck yourself”.  But I couldn’t even bring myself to reply.  I’m just too over it.

Unfortunately, this is not an uncommon question for guys to ask (please don’t ever ask a woman that). So here are my words of wisdom to the menfolk.

Any woman can and will be “affectionate”.  But not if you work her nerves before you’ve even met in person.  Not if you’re going to kill a good conversation by trying to start a stupid sex talk through text.

I’m sure he’ll write me off as a “bitch” or a “prude” like all the internet morons do when I don’t entertain their nonsense.  Little do they know the kind of “porn star” sex that they could have had if they had just put on some patient pants and done some proper courting first.


Women are different than men when it comes to sex.  This is not fresh information.  I feel like the topic has been beaten to death.  Yet, clearly many aren’t grasping it.

If you want an “affectionate” woman and the benefits (good sex) that accompany that…then you’re gonna have to put in some work.  You know, treat her like a person first and all of that.

Otherwise, it’s going to continue to be a lot of rejection and mediocre one night stands for you.



<a href="">Loyal</a>

Not Royalty

I’m a single mom to a son.  I don’t do the “king” or “prince” stuff with him.  He’s an adorable little boy.  A bit of a handful.  Of course, I love him to pieces.

However, I’m aware that he’s human.  He has the same potential as anyone else to grow up and be a jerk.  So I’m a bit firm with him.

I don’t want to be that mother in law who treats any person he brings home like dirt, because I assume my son is better than any of them.

I won’t coddle or excuse his bad behaviors just because he’s my little boy.

It sounds harsh.  And it certainly isn’t the popular opinion in single mom groups.

But I do love him and want the very best for him.  I just don’t agree that treating him like he’s better than others is the way to accomplish that.





<a href="">Fashionable</a>


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