The chaotic ramblings of a retired adult industry entertainer.


Did a little bit of shopping at the mall tonight.

Went through some mean girl shit from the associates at the makeup store.

Was stalked through the lotion store by an associate who insisted that I listen to every promotion they’re offering.  Never mind that they have the same information clearly posted all over the darn store.

Then waited in line for almost half an hour at the department store, just to purchase one cardigan.

Just can’t fathom why retail is struggling so bad…

Won’t miss it.  I’m standing out on the front porch giving it a good ol hillbilly wave goodbye.







<a href="">Crumb</a>


I’ve attended the same church for about a year and a half now.  Show up almost weekly, donate money, volunteer for special events.  I’m always hearing about how desperately they need assistance in the children’s ministry.  So I submitted the application (size of a darn phone book).  Provided them with my excellent references (that they both called and emailed to verify).  As well as providing consent to the complete background screening (I don’t have any sort of criminal history).  The director was so excited that I had applied and told me she’d get back with me asap after everything finished processing.

It’s been over three months and I never heard from her again.

I’ve been rejected.

There’s only one thing left that would have caused them to dismiss me.

A Google search.

The content that appears when you look me up on Google has caused me to lose:

  • countless potential jobs
  • possible relationships
  • budding friendships
  • I’ve been kicked out of “mommy and me” type of groups
  • and now apparently it’s cost me the ability to work in the nursery at church

I’m not any kind of anti-porn crusader.  I have no desire to try and make any changes regarding the porn industry.

But there are costs associated with it that my 18-year-old self couldn’t have wrapped my mind around.  Ramifications that I would have never considered.

And is it really worth it just so a bunch of dudes can frequently hunt me down and message me just to tell me that I’m “hot”?



<a href="">Peculiar</a>

Do you cam?

I was asked if I do cam work.

No, I don’t.

  • I am very retired from the adult industry at this point.
  • It would get me fired from my day job (which I love and am not willing to sacrifice just so I can touch myself on cam).
  • I tried it once and never really did figure out the whole token thing.  It confused the heck out of me.
  • I’ve gained somewhere between 30-40 pounds over the last year.  I think I wear it well enough.  But I certainly don’t feel like strutting around nude at the moment.
  • I’m beyond antisocial at this point.  I would make a horrible cam girl.  I don’t want anyone looking at me, thinking about me, touching me, bothering me, etc.  So it wouldn’t work unless I was doing some type of Dom stuff.
  • And most importantly…I’m too tired for all that nonsense.




There’s no one.

I am completely on my own with these horrible thoughts, feelings, and memories.

Need to escape, and I’m not seeing a way out.

I’m out of anything to give.

Every minute is a struggle.

Wish I could turn to drugs, but it’s not my thing.

If only I was as crazy as my accusers claimed.  Slipping into the darkness of some full-blown insanity might be nice right now.

But nope, here I am, unfortunately cognizant.

This isn’t sustainable and will end badly.

There’s no Savior.

There’s no happy ending.

There’s no hope.


It’s so obvious.  And somehow it took forever to really click in my brain (denial maybe?)


The reason that I always end up with losers or abusive jerks.

Good guys don’t settle down with porn chicks.

And no amount of donating to charity, volunteering, or going to church is ever going to change that.

I haven’t sincerely bothered with dating in a couple of years.  That part of my life is finished.  Anybody worth dating is going to think I’m gross.

And I can’t even blame them for it.


<a href="">Prickle</a>



I can’t use the busy excuse.  Can’t blame writer’s block.  I’ve just wanted some privacy.

The other day I was driving home to AZ from CA and my brain was flooded with thoughts and ideas of things to write about.  But by the time I made it home, I was over it.

I’m uninspired with life.  Some would probably call it depression.  I feel obligated to keep living this life that I don’t want to live anymore.  If it were just me, I’d have probably checked out a while ago.

But I created 5 people.  And I owe it to them to stick around in case they need me at some point.  I doubt they will.  The majority will likely not have much of a relationship with me at all.  Still, the least I can do is not be a dick and kill myself.

I don’t want to hear any self-help, positive thinking kind of bullshit.  I’ve been in this body and on this planet long enough to know how things go.

So I’ll be around.  Keeping to myself.  Working a lot of overtime.  Going through the motions.  Probably not writing enough lol.  I’ve found some peace in accepting that this is just how my life is going to be.

That’s enough “fun” for tonight.  Off to bed.  Gotta be awake in a few hours to catch a plane.

I sincerely hope that everyone is well.




So a little follow-up story to mister “send me a picture of your feet”.

Out of nowhere, he sends me an email with a picture of his dick (of course).  There was a message included about not letting me get away that easily.  I told him that it was crass and that I’m not interested.

That’s when I received back an email full of insults.  Everything from being ugly to a catfish to saying that I’m going to die alone.

The worst part is, that it’s not even surprising.  Happens all the time.

So I’ve had plenty of time to think about it, and no, I don’t think porn made me jaded.  I don’t think that requesting a picture of someone’s feet right off the bat is an awkward way of flirting or whatever.  Nobody who legitimately wants to get to know me would be requesting any such thing.

Instead of the predictable “more pics!” requests, why don’t men ever want to know what I like to read?  How I like to spend my free time?  Favorite color.  Something.

No means no.

It doesn’t mean push harder, or badger, or attempt to argue your way into getting what you want out of a girl.  And it’s pathetic that the standard is to then turn around and verbally assault a lady because she had the audacity to tell you no.

Yes, I would rather be alone than be treated like crud by one of these bossy morons.

I guess that could mean that I’m jaded.  I prefer to think of it as just having some self-respect.




Maybe I’m just mean


The story of my life.  Had been texting a bit with someone new for about a day.  He’s decent looking.  Seems nice.  Easy enough to talk to.

We’re a whopping 30 messages in overall when it starts.

“Send me a picture of your feet”.

I made it clear that I wasn’t going to do that.  He told me that it was a simple request and that we should start learning to please each other now.  I blocked him.


Where are the boundaries?!?  I talk to a LOT of guys.  And usually, it ends after about 10 messages because at that point they are already starting to make demands.

“Send me more pics”, “let’s facetime”, “drop everything and meet me at a bar right now”. Or God forbid I go and pee without my phone.  I always come back to the “did I scare you off?” I swear nothing turns me off faster than that last one.

Whatever happened to conversations?  Getting to know somebody?  Taking a minute to pursue them if you’re sincerely interested?

Am I expecting too much?  Am I just a bitch?  Did all the negative porn experiences make me too sensitive?

I have no idea.  And frankly, I’m not sure I care.

I’m at the point where I would rather die alone than put up with any of these weenies on a regular basis anyway.

My Granny has been single by choice for over 30 years now.  I used to think it was odd.

Now…I think it’s brilliant.


I have to


I saw this prompt this morning and thought that I would go to town with writing.  Now it’s the end of a long, exhausting day…and all I have going on is some insomnia and a case of writer’s block.

I miss my children.  I’ve cried so hard that I thought I would break.  I’ve wanted to die so badly that it hurt.

But (unfortunately for me), I have to keep going.

Otherwise, they’ll have no other options than to believe the lies that they’ve been told about me.

If I kill myself, I become the “crazy” that they grow up being told that I am.

So here I am.  Living.  Pursuing.  Succeeding.  Kicking life right in the ass.

Folks could say a lot of things about me.  But I’m not crazy, and I’m not a failure.

So every day I endure.  Because I have to.

Not for me.  For them.




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