I Am Fucking Awesome.

"I would rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I am not."  ~Kurt Cobain

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

We just don’t care.

Fuck.  We’re here again.  We really don’t learn anything from history, do we?  I’m referencing Anita Hill’s accusation of sexual harassment by Clarence Thomas in 1991, of course.

I’ve been relatively quiet about this issue, only discussing it amongst a couple friends.  I did watch Dr. Ford’s testimony and Kavanaugh being a whiny little bitch.  

You cannot tell me that something did not happen to this woman.  And sure, we may not receive evidence that proves Kavanaugh committed these allegations, but his tone and his demeanor did not speak, ‘Yes, please let’s appoint him to our highest court in this country.’  

And yes, I’m fucking irritated that we have to get him on the court as soon as possible so he can overturn Roe vs. Wade, and women will have to immediately stop killing babies.  It’s hypocrisy at its finest.  The GOP, led by Mitch McConnell, stopped Obama’s nomination of Merrick Garland.  Now we have to rush this beer-loving dickhead in because it’s all about controlling women.

On “Last Week Tonight with John Oliver,” they showed some white male saying, “Even if he (Kavanaugh) is guilty, I still will support him because this will be a good chance to overturn abortion.”  

As John Oliver pointed out, we just don’t care.  I would like to think that maybe sometime in the not too distant future, we might actually care what happens to women.  But I’m too much of a pessimist to hope for that.  

A couple of years ago I wrote about my sexual assault that happened my freshman year of college.  (You can scroll down and read it—under ‘Revictimized in our Rape Culture’).  I mentioned that I wrote about it in my writing class, and how my classmates didn’t believe me when I wrote the male officer’s line, “Are you just saying all this to get back at your boyfriend?”

I wrote in my initial Tumblr post that a male classmate verbalized his issue with that quote, thinking that no one, especially a police officer, would ever say that.  But I also recall that a female classmate did not believe it, too.  

So when Drumph and others ask why Dr. Ford didn’t come forward immediately, I know why.  1) You wouldn’t have believed it anyway. 2)  You don’t care.  

And like I mentioned at the end of that post, I don’t think I would go to the authorities if I was sexually assaulted again.  Who would believe an escort/adult performer?  Not many.  Most wouldn’t care, and some would think I probably deserved it.  

Someone asked me recently, “Are things really that bad for you?”  And no, they’re not awful.  But it disgusts me that we’re here again, that we have to watch a woman testify in front of a majority male committee as she relives a tragic night that has scarred her for life. I hate that she’s been attacked for coming forward.  I hate that the GOP accuses the Democrats of just coming up with this to stop a nomination.

Could we please do better, society?  That’s all I’m asking for, is for us to do better.  

Oh, and vote.  Please vote.  Again, Millennials and Gen-Z’s please fucking vote!  Statistics show that nearly two-thirds of young people agree that abortion should be legal in most or all cases.  But those stats mean nothing if you don’t participate in our elections.  

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

Remembering you always

Four years ago I put down my best friend, Logan.  He was the first dog I ever owned.  Sure, it’s been four years, but I think the first puppy love one never forgets.  

I adopted him when he was approximately two-three years old from a local animal shelter in upstate New York.  He moved to South Carolina with me after I graduated college and moved with me back up to Brooklyn.  I only had about eight years with him and despite the many dogs I’ve had since then and currently have, I still miss him.

That summer was one of the worst summers of my life.  I came close to killing myself in May, I was in this tumultuous relationship (which led to my attempted suicide), and finally, my boyfriend moved out in July.  

I spent the entire month of July crying.  I cried before I went to work, held it together during work, and then came back home to cry myself to sleep.  Cry, work, cry, sleep.  Repeat.  

I finally started to feel slightly better by the end of the month and I needed to make more money now that the boyfriend was gone. I started camming again on MFC.  I cammed during the day and then went to my restaurant job at night.  I got into a routine and my days and nights of crying became less and less.  

But a few weeks before Logan passed away, he and Deva had gotten in a bad fight.  By that time Logan was already needing a sling to assist in walking him.  My dog walker was trying to help Logan up and put him in the sling, and Deva being a stubborn, Alpha dog did not quite understand what was going on and ended up attacking Logan.  Deva actually had more damage to her and had to be taken to the vet.  I spoke to a dog behaviorist after this incident and he said she was trying to control the situation.  She had never done that with me before because she knew I wouldn’t have it.  

Despite Logan looking like he came out on top of that fight, it took a lot out of him.  In the weeks following the fight, he was struggling even more to get up and then I noticed this large sore on the inside of his one leg.  It looked like an irritation from not being able to be mobile. I knew I had to take him in and I knew I probably wasn’t going to come back with him.  

I took him to my vet in Park Slope and I knew what they were going to tell me.  I didn’t want him to suffer.  I called a friend to be there with me that I knew wasn’t working that day, since we both worked at the same place and I knew we had off, and who I knew was not too far from where I was.  She said she was out to lunch with a friend.  

So I said goodbye to my best friend of eight years and all I could think was that I was such a shitty mom to him the last year of his life.  

I lost myself that whole year I was with my ex.  It was such a toxic relationship.  I was completely focused on trying to hold onto him, on keeping us together, that I gave up on everything else.  I dropped out of school (this was when I was going for four more Bachelor’s), I didn’t spend time with friends, except when I saw them at work or school, and I barely spent time with my animals.  

I feel like I wasted an entire year of Logan’s life being a selfish, depressed, suicidal mess all because of a man I was infatuated with. It was the ugliest version of myself thus far.  

I had just gotten back into a routine at the very end of July, and then Robin Williams died on August 11th, and then I had to put Logan down on the 30th.  Needless to say, I went back into my depression.  

But my best friend suggested in the fall that I move to Vegas.  She knew I needed a fresh start.  So I looked into it and moved to Vegas that December.  

I do miss New York.  If I didn’t have the menagerie I currently have, I would be back there.  But my animals ground me.  And Deva, who is now the old lady of the house, is much happier having a yard and space.  They were part of the reason I moved.  Their happiness is my happiness.  

Not only do I remember putting down Logan on this day, but my mind is filled with awful memories of what I did to myself and the version of me that I turned into.  I can’t help but think I let him down that last year of his life.  I know I did and I hate myself for it.  I will never forgive myself for that.  

But the last couple months before he died, I spent many days just crying and hugging him because I was shattered and heartbroken. He was there for me like he always had been, and I just hope he knows how much he was loved despite my failures.

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

His final day.

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

Let’s Talk Business

I swear I will compose more positive posts following my team coming in first, in our first CrossFit competition, but I’m tallying my expenses from my Chicago tour/Exxxotica trip this morning and I can’t help but be disappointed.

The only reason why I decided to go to Chicago is that I’m usually successful there, however, this was before SESTA/FOSTA.  My last trip to Chicago was in early December and I was only there for a few days. Again, I don’t do overwhelmingly well wherever I tour because I apparently scare people, but I don’t leave Chicago feeling awful about myself (like I did when I toured Denver and LA).

I also really want to get the word out about my running for Team ASPCA for the NYC marathon.  I stupidly spent $330 on those damn beautiful flyers, so I figured I better advertise myself and get the word out it.  

But SESTA/FOSTA has really fucked things.  Oh, and there were only about 150 people at the Sex Worker March in Las Vegas, so yeah, no one cares about whores.  A dead hooker is just a dead hooker.

Anyway, I did have one previous client reach out to me saying he would love for me to come to Chicago and book me for two appointments.  That helped sway my decision towards going.  

After finally deciding to go to Chicago, I then spent money on advertising.  And I’m not lying about this, I only had two inquiries about seeing me. One filled out my form from my website and had a friend of mine as his reference.  I checked with her and she warned me, “Don’t see him unless you absolutely need the money.  Oh, and because you’re Asian, he will probably get racist on you, after he cums.”

Fucking great.  As much as I could use the money, I am not going to put myself in harm’s way.  I’ve done that too many times in the past and I’m not going to put up with some old, white, racist piece of shit.  

The other gentleman was very interested in meeting me.  I checked his reference, asked what time worked for him, and then he asked if I accepted PayPal.  Boooo.

I do not accept PayPal because PayPal has been notorious for not giving performers their money.  A cam model I know has battled with them for months to get her payments.  

(Oh, and right before I left for Chicago, I got a notice from Google Wallet saying I do not comply with their standards).

The gentleman did apologize to me and introduced himself the last day of Exxxotica.  

So I only had two appointments set with my previous client.  After we set up the times we would see each other, he then sent an email asking, “Also, would it be copacetic if I pay you for 2 hours on Saturday but break up the appointment so that I do one hour Saturday and one hour on Sunday or Monday?”

I read that as he’s going to pay me for both appointments in one day.  I told him that was fine and didn’t think much of it.  I should have paid more attention or asked him a specific question so it was clear.  

I was scheduled to see him at 14:30 on Saturday, but he texted me in the morning and said he was running behind schedule, and asked if we could push it back to 16:00 or 16:30.  I told him 16:00 would work.  But traffic was bad, so he ended up not getting there until 17:00.  

He kindly brought some champagne for us to share.  He asked me what I liked beforehand, so we enjoyed the champagne and caught up.  But our appointment went well over an hour.  

I’m not a stickler for set times, that is the one thing about not working for an agency.  I do enjoy conversing with my clients, especially with previous clients.  It’s nice to catch up, but if we go well over the designated time, I do take a mental note of it, especially those clients who don’t tip or send gifts off my Wish List.  

I will say, I can be too nice of a person.  I have to think this is my business.  If I was a lawyer, I would bill for my time.  I wouldn’t make exceptions.  

And this is why I showed up so late to Exxxotica on Saturday.  I was planning to get there earlier that day.

Before he left, he mentioned he was short 3 in the envelope and that he would bring the rest tomorrow. After he left, I only counted 7 bills. I sent him a text saying there was only 7, thinking maybe he thought there was 9 in there, and he replied he would bring the rest.  

The next evening, I saw him again and I left Exxxotica around 18:15, which was fine because it was the last day and everyone was already packing up by that time.  But he was twenty minutes late, but he did bring another bottle of champagne for us to share. I used the restroom and only counted 3.

I really do hate discussing donations; it ruins the mood for both myself and the client. That’s why everything is settled beforehand.  And even the agency I worked with before, didn’t have us barter with our clients.  

Shyly, I brought up the fact that there was only 3.  He told me he thought I agreed it would just be 1000.  I pulled up my emails and then caught the error.  I told him I misread his email.  Since he used the wording of “two-hour appointment” I didn’t read it as he wanted a deal.  He offered to leave, but I encouraged him to stay.  He drove all the way out to O’Hare to see me and I appreciated his desire to see me again and double booking me.  I told him because of the miscommunication on both our parts if we could agree that he just sent me 100.  But we agreed he would give me the 2 bills I intended to receive.  

Our appointment went over again.  He said he would look for an ATM downstairs and I told him to text me if he did.  

I didn’t receive a text that night.  I texted him the next morning inquiring about it and letting him know which payment processors I accept.  He said he would look into it and asked when I was leaving my hotel that Monday, thinking he could drop it off to me before I left, but I left that late morning.

I sent him an email a couple days ago asking again.  Nothing.

Just sent him a text this morning, and he apologized and said he is out of town.  

Now I do like this client. I appreciate his business, especially since he was the ONLY client I saw, and we’re both from New York, so we tend to discuss being back there.  And I know this was a miscommunication, but I can’t help but feel disappointed.  

Just a note to all you clients out there, please don’t be looking for deals from us.  I think all of us are really struggling after the SESTA/FOSTA bills passed, some more than others.  For the month of May, I only had three appointments.  And if you’re not educated on what SESTA/FOSTA is, please educate yourself.  Here’s a great YouTube vid:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GrP0tvoUgd4

And to give you an idea of what my trip cost, and this isn’t even including a plane ticket, which I would have had to pay for, but my friend paid for my ticket in miles, so that was one less expense.  

Advertising:  $82.50 (I split this in half because I can use the advertising for Vegas for the rest of the month).

Uber to McCarran w/tip:  $22.07

United baggage fee for banner:  $150

Hotel for 3 nights:  $693

Red Bar for dinner:  $70.00

Snacks:  $10.00

Gibson’s dinner:  $115.00

Uber back home w/tip:  23.57

Pet-sitting:  $150

Outfit and shoes:  $84.35  (I only bought one outfit and a pair of shoes on discount- the one I posted on Twitter that many liked, and the other two days I wore outfits I already had).

Total:  $1400.52

I made $330 from selling my photos at Exxxotica, $40 of which came from a guy who had his own photos printed and wanted me to sign.  

And $1000 from my appointments. So that means I am currently out $70.52. If I do get the 200 from my client, I will at least have profited $129.48.  But oh, I have to pay James at Galaxy Publicity, so that means I’m negative again.  

Imagine if I had to pay for my actual flight, Uber rides to and from O’Hare, and dinner for that first night; I didn’t have to pay, my friend did, and he also brought me to my hotel and picked me up from it.  And I didn’t even pay to bring my banner back home because it will be cheaper to ship it to me.  

I will say that when I told people how much my photographs were, which was either $20, or $30 for the ones that were professionally matted, I didn’t have anyone question why they were so much.  That was one difference between the crowd in Chicago and the crowd that came to Edison, NJ.

But the next time you want to bargain with us, please keep these calculations in mind.  It’s not cheap for us to come to these events or for us to tour. And when you’re a mediocre porn star who’s mind and physicality appears to frighten most men, it’s even worse for us because we don’t profit like the real stars do.

Please consider that we are professionals too.  Do you ask your lawyer or your therapist for deals?  Or if you own your own company, do you pay your employees less per hour if you decide to pay them in advance?  Probably not.  

Just keep that in mind and please educate yourselves on all the legislation that has passed or is in the works that is damaging to us.

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

Sylvia Plath Excerpt from letter November 22, 1955

“Words revolve in flame and keep the coliseum heart afire, reflecting orange sunken suns in the secret petals of ruined arches.  yes, the glowing asbestos thorns and whistling flame flowers reflect the cells of the scarlet heart and the coliseum burns on, without a nero, on the brink of blackness.  so words have power to open sesame and reveal liberal piles of golden metallic suns in the dark pit that wait to be melted and smelted in fire of spring which springs to fuse lumps and clods into veins of radiance.”

I read this and think, “I will never be half the writer she was.”  Actually, I think that a lot when I read brilliant writers’ works.  

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

Stupidity always wins, well, at least in my industry.

This was too much to type in Twitter, but I thought this was an amusing exchange and again, proves my point, as always, that stupidity always wins.  

A performer I had not seen in a while asked me what I’ve been up to.  

I replied, “Well, I’m trying to take Organic Chemistry this semester, so this (referring to the AE expo) is not my primary focus at the moment.  But I’m going to be running the marathon and I’m trying to get the word out about that so I can raise money for the ASPCA.”

Her reply, “Organic is really good though.  I eat organic.”

I hesitate.  I know she’s not the brightest person, but I think to myself, ‘Doesn’t everyone know about Organic Chemistry?’  

I decide that maybe she misheard me, so I try again after a few more words are exchanged between us.  

“So yeah, Organic Chemistry is going to take up a lot of time.  I need to focus on studying.”

She says, “But the benefits will be really good though.  You have to think of that.  It’s really healthy for you.”

And then I gave up.  

But surprise, surprise, she’s more popular than me.  People like her more than me.  She’s in demand to shoot more than me.  

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

Drunken Meet & Greet and Bill Maher

When I saw on the TER board that the NYC Meet & Greet would be November 9th, I decided I would definitely plan to tour the city after the expo.  I had never been to on and figured it might be worthwhile to network.   A previous client and I decided to see each other before the Meet & Greet started.  He was a client I actually met in Vegas, but he's an Italian from NY/NJ, and we really hit it off.  He fell ill the last time he was in Vegas, and had to go out of town for work when I was in the city in October, so it was really nice catching up with him.  

We discussed politics, and obviously we had to discuss Trump, and I said, "I know you hate him as much as me."  

He said laughing, "I don't think I hate him as much as you do."  But we agreed that we both think he's a moron.   He identifies as being a moderate, and he is a gun owner, but he agreed there is no need for people to have automatic weapons.  There was common ground that we found on different issues, and he was happy to find out that I'm not one of those extreme liberals.   We head to the M & G together, and we order some drinks.  We evaluate the crowd, comparing ourselves to the others. He is attracted to my mind and knows I have a good heart, and I appreciate his attractiveness to me is more than just a superficial one.   I did spot a young woman, who was either from somewhere in Asia, or she was mixed.  She talked to us for a moment, and I found out that she was new to the business.   We notice an older white woman who has a long, furry, pink coat on.  She introduces herself as, Diana Love.  At some point, I get a glimpse that she's topless underneath.  My client misses it, but later on she decides to change, and strips down by the window, in front of everyone to put a top on.   We also spot another tall, sexy black lady.  My client says to me, that he thinks, she is probably the one who said, "I'll be the tall one," on the reply back to the invite.  He says something to her, and I comment on how I like her bracelet, and she walks over to us.  She says her name is Autumn, and we talk to her for a bit.  We have a couple more drinks, and then my client heads out because he has work in the morning.   I continue to stand at the bar.  I'm watching over Diana's drinks as she excused herself to the bathroom.  An older man comes up a few feet behind me.  I can smell rotten food in his mouth and I'm not even facing him.  Thankfully, he didn't start talking to me.  And I kept my back to him just so he wouln't feel inclined to strike up a conversation with me.  I think I would have gagged if I had to lean in to hear what he might have tried to say to me.   I take my drink and I find Autumn again, sitting on a bean bag chair in the back corner.  She's from Toronto and says I should tour there.  I tell her I have one fan who keeps telling me to go to Toronto, but because I know it's legal there, I wouldn't know how I would do.  But she says, I would do well because there's not many tall, beautiful, fit, Asian women there.   I'm drinking my third Tito's and tonic, when Diana asks if I want do a shot with her.  I agree to and also ask for a water shortly after.  Diana, Autumn, and I are not cool enough to be invited to the after party, which I believe was designated for VIP clients and the ladies they picked up there.  Diana and I do a second shot with Autumn and I finish my third Tito's and tonic.   Another couple ladies invite us to go to a club uptown.  I get another drink for some reason, and we climb into an Uber, and head to the club with drinks in hand.  I drink half of mine and offer it to the woman sitting in the middle in the backseat with me.   Then the liquor finally hits me.  And I realize the only thing I ate was an egg and cheese earlier that afternoon.  I don't want to be the messy drunk girl at the club, so at Third Avenue and E. 40th Street, or somewhere around there, I remember E. 40th, but I can't remember what avenue, I tell the driver and the ladies in the car, I'm going to hop out and go back to my hotel.  They were cool about it, and I got myself a cab back downtown.   I was sleepy in the back of the cab, and definitely feeling the vodka.  I was happy I decided to go back to my hotel. Impressively, I remembered to get a receipt from my cab driver before climbing out.   My suite had one and a half bathrooms.  The half being right near the room door as you enter.  I quickly stripped off my coat, dashed to the bathroom, took off my shoes as I was on the toilet, and then passed out on the floor for a bit.  I don't know how long I was passed out on the floor.  It wasn't for the whole night.  At some point, I got up, somehow managed to unzip my dress without too much struggle, and fell into bed naked.  I think I drank the water in my water bottle before passing back out and filling it up again, knowing at some point, I would need to drink more water during the night.   I think I woke up again around 8 AM, saw a text from Autumn earlier in the night asking if I got back okay.  I replied back to her telling her how I passed out and then proceed to order breakfast.  I waited for the delivery, ate, and then went back to sleep. I was definitely hung over, and decided to get my day started around 11:00.  There was a possibility I was going to have an appointment.  I checked my emails and my texts, and decided to get into the shower and get ready.  But of course I didn't end up seeing anyone, and despite being mildly hungover, I would have preferred to go to the CrossFit gym than gotten ready for no one.  It was 34 degrees on Friday, so I didn't even leave my hotel.  My friend mentioned she was headed into the city to run errands, but she and her husband were exhausted afterwards, since they were toting around their three month old, so I didn't get to see them to get some weed or meet up for dinner. I ordered some takeout and depressingly wondered why I have whole days where I have zero appointments.   I went to bed around 1:30-2:00 AM, set my alarm to go the gym.  I paid for a week pass thinking it would be less expensive if I went every day, but I ended up only going twice.  Apparently, I needed to catch up on sleep, and I think my self-doubting thoughts kept me up that night, so I didn't get up until 10:00 AM.   I didn't have any appointments for Saturday, since I was initially planning to leave that day.  But when I heard that Bill Maher was going to be at Madison Square Garden that Saturday, I told myself it would probably be a cool memory to see him in New York, despite having seen him at the Mirage in Vegas this past year.   I was hoping to pick up an appointment since I had nothing on Friday, but that didn't happen either.  I got ready, just in case, and waited.  Later in the afternoon, my friend said they were headed to her father's in the city and asked if I could meet them there.  I waited and didn't hear from her again until after 6:00 PM.  I told her I couldn't stay too long because I wanted to smoke before the show, but she said I could smoke there.   My Uber ride took forever because of traffic, despite only going up fifteen streets, and over another avenue east.  I got up to the apartment, and was not surprised to be greeted by another dog I had not met before.  A little puffy, cinnamon Pomeranian barked at me, and I knelt down for the dog to sniff me saying, "Oh, I don't know who you are." My friend laughs her infectious laugh, "That's Rocco.  That’s my sister's dog."   "Ah," I say, but I would not have been surprised if my friend said that this was her fifth dog. "Do you have any papers by chance?" my friend asks me. I purposely brought my Raw rolling papers and a lighter with me.  "Yes," I say.   My friend hands me a paper bag with a snowman stamped on the outside.  Inside is my edible Peanut Butter crunch chocolate bar and a small mason jar of my eighth of weed.   "Do you happen to have a Ziplock bag?" I ask.  "Hmm, I'm going to have to figure out where to put this going into the show." Luckily, my friend has a Ziplock bag that a bracelet was in, and asks if I want Saran wrap it too because it is strong weed.   "Yes, please," I reply.  "I think I'm going to have to stick it up my pussy."   She gives me a piece of Saran wrap, and I wrap it up tight.  I look at the edible bar as my friend rolls a joint.   "I'll usually eat a whole one," my girl friend says. I see on the label that it's 225 mg.  "Oh, fuck, no.  There's no way I'm going to eat this whole thing.  I'd be melting into the floor."  I pretend to drool and slide to the ground.   The bar is broken up into nine equal squares.  I try to just take two of them, but the way it breaks off, I end up having a third of the bar.   Her mother-in-law is there and us, ladies, smoked the joint on the balcony, while her husband held the baby.   It was soon 7:15, and I knew I should order an Uber and head out the door to get across town to MSG.  I say goodbye to my friend and her family and before going out the door, I quickly shove the Saran-wrapped weed up my pussy. After the hassle of getting into Madison Square Garden, anyone who's attended a show there, knows the arduous process of going through security and getting into the theater.  I beep when I go through the scanner, and the security guy with the portable metal detector asks, "Do you have any metal on you anywhere?"   "Uh, all over," I say, "I have piercings."   "Yeah, that will sometimes do it," he says as he scans over me.  He lets me pass and I get into the line for the theater and then quickly find the bathroom so I can pull the eighth of weed out of my pussy.   It's past 8:00 PM, probably closer to 8:15 by that point, so I bypass the lines to get snacks because I still have to find my seat and I don't want to miss the show, despite knowing I would have cottenmouth.  Luckily, I had some gun and swapped pieces midway through the show to help with the cottenmouth a bit.   I find the section my seat is in and walk down to the row, since I went by myself I only ordered one ticket, and was hoping I would be somewhere near the end of the row so I wouldn't have to walk by a bunch of people.  I got to my row, and there were two ladies at the end, a seat with coats on it, and then a few more ladies.  I figured I was the seat that had the coats on it, but I told them my seat number, and the ladies at the end moved in, so I got to sit at the end.   I thought Bill's show was funnier than when I saw him in Vegas.  Maybe it was the weed, maybe it was the edible, maybe because I was in New York City in Madison Square Garden.  I did feel he performed more to the crowd in New York than he did in Vegas, perhaps because he knew the majority of us were intellectual, New York liberals.   I left MSG, attempted to figure out where I was.  I always get a little turned around whenever I leave there, found a CVS to get some potato chips and drinks, ordered an Uber and waited.  I don't vividly recall the CVS stop, since the edible was really hitting me then, but I knew how important they were going to be once I was back in my hotel room.  My Uber was five minutes away still, and then a cab pulled up letting other people out and I asked him to take me back to my hotel and cancelled my Uber. I got back to my hotel, ordered off GrubHub from Bareburger, I was in a veggie burger and french fry kind of mood. I also ordered some brussel sprouts, that were also delicious.   My girl friend asked about the show and said they were back in Brooklyn and were watching Bill Maher.  I recalled that I had not watched the previous night's 'Real Time' because HBO didn't come through on the TVs and I fell asleep before they posted it on HBOGo.   I pulled it up on my laptop, told my friend it was great to see her and about how I pulled the weed out of my pussy before the show started, but when we were exiting from the show the people around me were commenting on the skunk smell.   I laughed and ate my way through 'Real Time.'  I put on an episode of 'Curb Your Enthusiasm' and passed out on the couch.  I woke up an hour or so later, stripped off my clothes, didn't wash my makeup off, and went to bed naked again.   I think I was definitely weed hung over the next morning.  I set three alarms for 8:30, 8:45, and 9:00 AM.  I got up before the 9:00 AM one went off.  Got up, went the bathroom, checked out how my makeup lasted, decided to wash it off and do natural makeup, and then went to the bagel shop around the corner that I had been visiting all week.  Got my last lox on an everything bagel and ordered half a dozen.  I had to go to Duane Reade again and buy more Ziplock bags to take them home.   I unwrapped the weed, rolled myself a small joint, and then started packing all my stuff.  I needed/wanted to smoke on one of the balconies I had before I left.  I was aiming to leave my hotel at 12:30 PM, and got down to front desk and checked out by 12:25.   I waited for my Uber driver, and by watching his route on his way to me, I had a gut feeling he was somehow going to fuck up on the drive to Newark.  Before we got on the thruway, I asked him which way he was going and made sure he was taking the way that was the fastest to get there.  But then we missed the exit that took us to the airport, and had to travel in the opposite direction before we were able to turn around, and then we missed another way we should have taken to go back around, so then had to travel further in the wrong direction.  And then he had his blinker light on for way too long, and I notice all these cars pass by us.  I look at his speedomoter and he's going 17 mph under the speed limit.  I have to point to what exit we need to go, and repeat myself several times to go to Newark Airport.   "Go where?" "Straight!" "Where?" "Straight ahead!  Look at the sign that says Newark Airport!" We putter along going 15-20 mph under the speed limit.  Thankfully, I left with plenty of time to get my bags checked and get through security, and I smoked that joint before leaving, or else I would have been even more pissed.  But the last five minutes were excruciating as I watched several vehicles zoom on by us.  

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

Exxxotica and back in NYC

The only reason I decided to go to Exxxotica in the first place was because I was supposed to shoot with an independent producer, whom I've worked with before in DC.  He booked my flight out and was going to book my flight back from New York, and he was possibly going to get me another shoot while I was out there.  And then we were going to drive up to New Jersey together. A few days before I was intended to leave, I texted him, asking if he booked my flight back to the West coast.  He knew I wanted to go to NYC following the expo, and I told him which day I was thinking of returning a couple weeks before, but I never heard anything back form him about it.  He failed to book my flight back, and he also told me he had not gotten me that other shoot.  He then said he would have to change my flight to go to NJ instead of DC because of some stuff happened and he would not be able to shoot with me before Exxxotica. Originally, he offered to have me stay with him and another model for the expo, but when he mentioned another model for one of the nights would be possibly staying with us three, I decided to get my own room. Too many people.  I like my own space. Well, there was some drama on his end, and he never ended up coming to NJ for Exxxotica, so it was a good thing, I booked my own room. Since my flight departed at 7:25 AM from Vegas, I didn't eat anything the entire trip.  After I checked into my hotel in Edison, I looked online on Yelp for some takeout.  Then came my fiasco of receiving Kung Pao Chicken when I ordered Kung Pao Shrimp, and the woman debating with me over the phone that it was definitely chicken.  Oh, and my single soy sauce packet that I had. Friday evening, I arrived at the Galaxy Booth.  James, Sadie Pop, and Lucky Starr were there.  James asked me if I had a banner to display; I did not because he did not tell me to bring one.  Obviously, had I known, I would have had one made.  A few weeks before, James and I discussed on the phone, his picking up some of my DVDs to sell at the Expo.  Of course, when I got there, he asked me if I had DVDs to sell, of course, I did not. Soon after I arrived, James took the other ladies to attend a seminar, so I was there at the booth by myself.  Right before they came back, Tia, Liv, and Misty arrived.  When James and the others returned from the seminar, I was then instructed to sign at The Love Library.  It was an adult store that had a huge space to sell their products, and they were getting a lot of traffic.  But two of the other Galaxy girls were at a table signing there.  The owner of the store thought James was only having two of us sign, not three.  So they packed some boxes on top of each other, put a tablecloth over it, gave me a stool to sit on, luckily, and had me sit there.  Since I didn't have a banner, and only had my archival pigmented prints to sell, I looked extremely out of place.  Half a dozen people just asked me about sex toys while I sat there the rest of the night. I was in no hurry to get to Exxxotica the next day.  If I was going to be stuck at the same makeshift table, why should I hurry to get there, was my thinking. James texted me a little after noon, and then called me.  I told him I wouldn't be ready until closer to 4:00 PM, I didn't end up getting there until after 5:00 PM, but anyway, after telling James originally 4:00 PM, he said he wanted me to do a radio interview.  Then not even an hour later after getting off the phone with me, he sends me a text saying, "3:00 PM radio interview, confirm?"  I reply back, that I said I wasn't going to be ready until 4:00 PM.  So he cancels the interview, or he got another girl to do it; I don't know what happened with that. I arrive that day and I mentioned to James while I was on the phone with him earlier, that people were just asking me about the sex toys at The Love Library, the evening before.  I was allowed to stay at the Galaxy Booth table, and I had a better day sitting there.  And a very kind fan showed up that day to give me some items off my Wish List and a bonus gift of a 'Hello Kitty Hedgehog.'  I informed him that the one video game I played was "Sonic the Hedgehog 2" since I was a Genesis girl.  He did not know that, so his gift was even more special.  His kindness really cheered me up and his friend took a foot fetish video of my feet, so I made some quick cash I did not expect to make. At the end of the night, I debated going to the after party.  I was hungry, so I made my way to the bar downstairs and it was fifteen minutes before the kitchen closed, but I just wanted a Caesar salad with shrimp, so they made it quick and I had a glass of white wine to go with it. Two older ladies were sitting at the corner of the bar.  They were drinking a bottle of the red wine.  And the other people who were there, were from Exxxotica, but I didn't know any of them, and found out later, most of them were cam models. The one guy and girl were talking about the other party and how it was just at the hotel.  I said to them, they weren't making me feel bad about not going.  I didn't really want to go over there.  I would have had to order an Uber to and from, and I wondered how great would the party really be. After finishing my salad, they invited me to come hang out on their side of the bar, after a few more sentences were exchanged with each other.  I discovered that Justin, does video production for MFC, and the woman, Aspen Edwards, cams.  We strike up conversations with the bartender.  She was paid to stay until 2:00 AM for the wedding party, some of whom I encountered when I was leaving the hotel on my way to Exxxotica earlier that day.  But none of us are from the wedding party, and it was already past 11:00 PM.  We found out that the older ladies at the one corner,  were drinking after escaping from a family function.  We understood their reasoning to drink and tried to get them to do shots, but they did have at least a bottle and a half of wine over the course of the night. Some of the other people decided to go to the after party.  And then another gentleman, oblivious to the fact that Exxxotica was going on, sat down next me.  He was a baseball scout.  We quickly informed him what was going on, and who everyone was at the bar.  Justin ordered some food from Uber Eats, most of which was all brown fried food, I did take a few bites of a pretzel and ate a mac & cheese bite.  Shortly after the food arrived, the wedding party started coming in.  They were mostly my age, so they definitely were drinking.  The bartender quickly went from leisurely making a few of us drinks, to popping bottles and pouring liquor for more than forty people, maybe even closer to fifty. Justin ordered a lot of food.  After he ate what he wanted, and Aspen and I picked at it, he decided to offer it to the wedding party.  Needless to say, their drunken selves ate everything. We drank until the bartender closed down her bar.  I helped picked up some glasses at a back table while she was busy serving the wedding party.  The other people who were around the bar area earlier, who went to the other party came back and asked if the bar was still open.  Justin, the baseball scout, the two older ladies, and I decided to call it a night, so no one else walking in would think the bar was still open because we were sitting there. The last day of Exxxotica, I didn't get there until closer to 4:30 PM.  I had a feeling it wouldn't be too busy because it was the last day and it was Sunday, and figured most people were at home watching football.  I actually arrived there around 4:15, but I noticed I didn't have my pass, and before the shuttle could drive away, I told the driver I needed to go back. It was pretty dead on Sunday and most people started packing up around 5:00, 5:30.  I didn't feel too bad though, Misty had only gotten there just fifteen minutes before me. While at the booth, Misty mentioned going into Manhattan.  She and James invited me to go with them, and I decided it would be a fun night out with a few people.

I took an Uber to where James, Misty, and Loni were staying.  Loni offered me a drink of tequila and orange juice.  Misty finished up getting ready and had me break up some weed for a blunt to take with us.  I know how professional a smoker Misty is, and I was pretty proud of myself that I was just shy of enough weed she needed to roll up.  Soon Ralph arrived, and we were on our way to Manhattan.

Yes, we did the tourist thing and walked around Times Square and took selfies and photos.  It was Misty, James, Loni, Ralph, and myself.  We decided to have a drink at Junior's while we waited to go downtown to Nyomi Banks’s party at Haus.  And James ordered some bomb ass NY style cheesecake with strawberry sauce, which was better than an orgy in my mouth. We finished up our drinks and decided to head to the club.  Loni and Misty were wearing sweater dresses and quickly regretted that decision.  I was wearing jeans and a sweater, definitely not club attire, but I knew we were going to be walking around in the city and didn't want to wear something too heavy and not comfortable.  But I did feel out of place because the other ladies that were there were in club dresses. I was kindly given some Grey Goose and cranberry and watched Misty dance and grind her ass off, while Loni and I took hits from her vape pen.  Some time later, Misty and James went outside to smoke a cigarette.  Loni and I decided to go out to find them after we were kicked out of the area we were sitting at because another bottle reservation was supposed to be there. Loni and I found James in the designated smoking area that was gated outside one of the exit doors.  We chatted outside and James mentioned finding Misty and Ralph to head back to Edison.  While we were outside, a man was getting kicked out of the club, out of the exit where we were standing.  The one bouncer had to go to get the guy's jacket, and the three of us were standing in semi-circle, when Loni picked up a phone call from her friend.  The guy intrudes into our semi-circle, leaning his arms over the gate to ask for a cigarette from one of us. I quickly tell him, "No, sorry," because I want him to move along.  He lingers and asks again.  I say, no, a second time, and add, "Dude, could you back up a little?" "What?" he angrily snaps back. "You're kinda in our space here, and you see that this girl is on the phone who is trying to talk to her friend... and we don't have a cigarette for you." "Who the fuck are you?  ...You are nothing." "Okay, dude." "You're nothing." I turn my back and roll my eyes at James.  The bouncer arrives back with the guy's jacket and he moves back, but he keeps yelling at me. "You are nothing.  ...I went to Columbia.  What the fuck do you do?  ...You do nothing." "Okay, dude, right." "You don't ever talk to a black man that way.  ...You are nothing." Finally, I snap, "You need to learn a fucking lesson."  My dominant side comes out and I quickly want to shove him to the ground, my heel at this throat, and make him submit to me. James ushers me inside, and I say again at the asshole who keeps repeating I am nothing, that someone needs to teach him a lesson. I go back inside, have another drink, do a shot with Loni while James tries to find Misty, and then we all head out.  While I sip on the third drink, I realize someone saying, "I am nothing," are trigger words for me.  I don't think much of myself, and in the very dark moments I repeatedly tell myself, I am nothing.  It is a reflection I perceived at an early age from my mother and what she thought of me.  When you think you're trash, you grow up feeling like you are disposable. Oh, the woman DJ, was really good.  I told her so after she wrapped up her session.  She told me her name, but I couldn't really hear her too well.  I asked the guys who were DJing after her, but they didn't know who she was.  And the guy DJ after her, was not as good.  I don't like the DJs who yell into the microphone. I know they're trying to get the crowd going, but most of the time you can't hear what they're spitting into the microphone, and it just interrupts the flow the music.  I asked the bartender, he didn't know the woman's name either, but he asked someone he thought might know, and luckily he did, so I had him find her on my phone on Instagram.  (Her name on Instagram is @msbluntler).   Loni desperately wants some pizza before we get back to Edison.  She's been wanting a slice since we arrived in Manhattan, and James and Ralph had initially walked into a Sbarro's back when we were in Times Square, which was just all kinds of wrong when you're in New York. But we found a place that was open as we drove a little uptown.  I got a slice of white and we devoured our slices rather quickly. Misty yells to the buildings and cars in Manhattan.  A taxi driver beeps at her as James tries to shuffle her along the crosswalk to the car.  She screams, "Fuck you!" to the driver, and in typical New York fashion, we move right along our way and head back to New Jersey. Ralph kindly drops me off at my hotel and I ask the gentleman at the desk if I can push back my check out to 1:30 PM. It was 5:00 AM when I last looked at my phone before passing out.  I set three alarms:  11:00, 11:15, and 11:30.  I figured if I got six hours of solid sleep, I wouldn't be too exhausted the next day and I decided to leave my eye makeup on, because I knew I had to get ready for an appointment the next day, and I didn't want to spend all that time again doing it. Alarm went off at 11:00.  I hit the snooze, then I get a text from Misty at 11:08, wishing me a good morning.  I replied back, "Perfect, my alarm just went off."  I got up, started packing my bags, fixed my makeup, and then coordinated with Misty to head to her hotel so we could all take an Uber into Manhattan. Loni was still asleep when I got over to their hotel around 2:00 PM.  We didn't end up leaving Edison to go to Manhattan until 4:00 PM.  Misty informed me that she went back to sleep after she texted me at 11:00.  I thought, thank goodness, my makeup is complete. Misty needed to get tested before her shoot in a couple days.  Of course the testing place was up on the East side, in the upper 50's.  She called them to ask when they were closing and they said 5:00 PM. My hotel was on the East side, but in the higher 20's, so the plan was to drop me off, and for them to head uptown.  But since we left Edison so late, I decided we should head to the testing place first, and also so that Misty and Loni wouldn't have to drag all their luggage to the testing place.  My last kindness to Misty was paying for her test with my debit card because all she had was cash and we definitely did not have time for her to figure out how to pay through her credit union. I told my client we were running behind while on our way to Manhattan, and a short text explaining the dilemma.  I was originally supposed to meet him at 6:00 for our dinner date, but he kindly pushed it back to 6:30. Misty called the testing place and said we were going to be late and that she needed to get tested that evening.  The Uber's navigation said we were going to pull-up at 5:04.  I think we pulled up at 5:07.  There was of course a bunch of traffic in the city, and there were a couple busses in front of us, so I told Misty to jump out, figuring it would be faster for her to walk and find the door, then waiting for the busses to pull out of our way.  She later told me she had to get on the phone with them because she couldn't find the door because it was around the corner.  But everything worked out, and I quickly got upstairs to change for my date, while Loni turned on the TV to wait for Misty. I wore a dress that I had not worn since last winter.  It was warm enough that I didn't really need a coat, certainly not my winter one that I had, and I was just going around the corner and a couple blocks.  Misty texted she was at the hotel, and I said goodbye to her and Loni, and dashed out of the hotel because I was already running a couple minutes behind. But I quickly realized that the dress rides up, and if I hadn't keep pulling it back down, it would have been around my waist.  I did gain attention those couple of blocks to and from the restaurant. I had a lovely dinner date with my repeat client, as I always do with him.  We met in San Francisco and he moved to New York back in July.  He definitely saved my ass back in October by seeing me twice, and once this tour. After we were done, he asked when I would be returning to New York.  I told him that it might not be until late spring or early summer because I was going to attempt to take calculus again.  He's well aware of my struggle with it, and I joked that I needed to plan for something else because sex robots would be putting me out of business soon.  I explained that IF I did my prerequisites and got into veterinary school right away, (that's a really big IF because I am well aware I might not get accepted immediately) that I would be graduating when I was 40.  And if I want to specialize, which I probably do, I would be even older. "But I don't want to be continuing to be doing this when I'm 40, this is fun, but I'm not intellectually challenged." I pause for a moment, "It's either that or I kill myself.  Ya know, pull a Marilyn Monroe at age thirty-six." "Please don't kill yourself," he says.   "I will help you with calculus if you need it."

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

Tuesday happenings

I picked up my vehicle from the auto body shop today. I needed my driver side back door buffed out because I scraped it on one of the columns in the parking garage of the Cosmopolitan. I was in a hurry to get to call and I didn’t want my booker to be irritated that I was running behind. I pulled in too quickly and was too close. I did that almost exactly two years ago. I want to get a new lease, so I just needed them to buff it out, so I don’t incur a huge cost when I bring them my current one. Yesterday, I took my house key off from the key ring, and when I got back in my car today to put it back on, I dropped it and it fell between my seat and the center console. “Fuck!” is of course the appropriate response to when this happens. I looked down, hoping I could see it, but the sound it made, sounded like it hit the bottom. I couldn’t see it. I then proceeded to move my seat back and forth numerous times trying to feel for it. I lifted up the mats, removed paid parking tickets, started sweating. No luck. “Where the fuck is this key?” I thought. “I know it fell down here.” More scrambling. More sweating. More frustration. I know because of the sound it made, it hit the metal at the bottom. “It must be in a place I can’t see,” I processed. I feel around. Nothing. Finally, after a few more occurrences of me moving the seat from front to back, from the back, I wedge my hand underneath and I feel the key! But it’s caught in the plastic covering of the bottom of the seat. I can wedge my forefinger and middle finger around the key, I try to pull it out, but it’s stuck! Fuuuuuccckkk! More sweating. Finally, one of the repair guys asks what the problem is. I tell him. He asks me to move out of the way, probably thinking he’s going to reach down and get it immediately. “Helpless, girl,” my projection of him is thinking. He reaches underneath, I explain where it is. Then he feels it. “Ohhh,” he says. “Yeah, in the worst possible place, right?” I run my fingers through my hair; it’s damp, I’ve been sweating that much. I lightly run my finger underneath my eyes, my mascara ran a little. Another repair guy asks the first “Qué pasó?” The first replied back in Spanish, I heard the word “casa,” which means house. “House key, huh?” the second guy asks. “Yes,” I grudgingly answer. They both try to reach for it and try to wedge it out with their hands. Doesn’t work. “You don’t keep it on a key ring?” the second guy asks. “I usually do, I have it with my car key, but I took it off yesterday when I left my car here.” “Ohhhh.” It was wedged so perfectly in this plastic molding that they had to unbolt the seat to get to it. I went to my passenger’s side seat to where my purse was and grabbed two five dollar bills, and my cell phone in the back. I text my friend who kindly picked me up yesterday and today, what happened. “That is extremely unlucky,” he texts. “At least that didn’t happen somewhere else.” “I would have had a breakdown,” I reply. I probably would have. The first guy offered help probably just a minute before I would have started really cursing everyone. The guys finished bolting my seat back into place. “Thank you so much!” I said. I handed the second man a five, he took it, and thanked me. The first guy wouldn’t take it. “No, that’s okay.” “No, please take it. I really appreciate your help.” “No, no,” he refused again. “Give it to him.” I tried to hand it off to him again, I was about ready to shove the five in his pocket, which he probably would have enjoyed more. I looked around and found a parking pole to set it on. “I’ll leave it here,” I said, quickly setting the five down, and jumped into my car before he could try to give it back to me. “Thank you,” I said again before I drove away. What an eventful Tuesday, just to pick up my vehicle. I typed this all on my phone as I’m getting a manicure and pedicure. I got a tiny cut on my finger trying to wedge out my key. Not a significant cut, but enough that the nail polish remover stings.

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

"I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions. Whatever I see I swallow immediately. Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike. I am not cruel, only truthful--" Mirror by Sylvia Plath #selfie #model #poem #sylviaplath

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

My envy will be your destruction

I am envious of the women who do not have to work out, those who are naturally lean and eat pizza and French fries without hesitation.  

 When I still worked with an agency, we had to meet once a week to do our drop, and one of the ladies, showed up with McDonald’s French fries, and an Oreo McFlurry.  She was the most in demand out of all us.  I sat there and I think I just gained five pounds just watching her eat those greasy fries and delicious ice cream.

 It does frustrate me now that I’ve been working out continuously for the past eight months, five or six days a week, and it has yet to result in getting more shoots.  I’ve been kicking ass in the gym, trying to improve myself both mentally and physically, and when your effort is not recognized in the career path you chose, you can’t help but be disappointed.  

 But over the past several months, I’ve watched my body change and continue to improve. Because I’m not naturally petite, it’s taken longer to notice the changes.  The women who are lean to begin with and then start lifting weights, damn! They look fucking fantastic in a relatively shorter time frame than someone with my structure does.  

 However, with continued dedication, I will look just as good if not better than the women who do not work out.  And I finally lost some body fat as I mentioned recently.  I was 155 pounds for the longest time, since I was gaining so much muscle.  But now I’m down to 147, and that has to be mostly fat because I’ve gotten stronger, not weaker.  

 I can start to notice a slight v-cut in my lower abdomen.  It’s hard to notice in some photos, but I definitely did not have it before.  And when that is clearly visible, man, you guys will be completely helpless when it comes to me.

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

Sunday thoughts

I dreamt last night that I had several tanks of various species of fish and even a couple turtles, but then a crack appeared in one tank and I was asking my father to help me fix it before my mom found out so she wouldn’t scream at me.  

Probably has something to do with the fact that I was only allowed to have fish when I was growing up and I will be returning home at the end of this month.  It’s also my mother’s birthday in ten days and I haven’t spoken to her in over a year.    

Damn you, subconscious.

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

Shit happens.  Preparation for an Appointment

I notify clients that I need at least three hours to get ready for an appointment, if they are booking the same day. Hence, why I and many providers prefer that you pre-book. And many do not even take same day appointments and request 24-hours notice.

You may wonder why do we need so much time? First, if you are a first time client, we need to begin the verification process. And if we have to inquire to previous providers you have seen, they may not get back to us right away. I ask for at least two provider references, three or more is best, just in case I don't hear back from one of them. Just checking with your references alone, may take a day or two for them to reply back.

Once the verification process is completed and even if you are a repeat client of mine, scheduling the day before is always much obliged. I can plan out my day based around when you would like to see me. Providers have lives outside of their work.

You prefer us to be fit and in shape, so maybe we want to go to a Crossfit class or go for a run before we get ready to see you.

And yes, now that I got into Crossfit, I am not available until 2:30 PM (M-F) at the earliest when I’m in Vegas.  (When I tour, that’s obviously different).  I go five days a week, Monday through Friday, in the morning, so I need time to return home, eat breakfast, and then get ready.  Working out is a stress reducer, and believe me, in today’s political climate, in addition to the aggravations one has to put up with as a provider/adult film actess, reducing stress is much needed.  If I lose money because you want to see me before 2:30, I’m okay with that.  Being fit has become important to me, and what’s the point of being your own boss and making your own schedule if you can’t do that?  

Why do I need at least three hours notice? I'm assuming you prefer to see me freshly showered, shaved, and in full makeup. I know for many men you've never had the experience of putting on primer, foundation, eye shadow, eye liner, mascara, and spending anywhere from 10-20 minutes, or more, on your eyebrows alone.  And that's after getting out of the shower.

In the shower, I have to shampoo and condition my hair. My hair gets oily and greasy fast, so I have to wash it every day, so it's clean and doesn't look like I'm part of the Scavengers group in “The Walking Dead.”  Obviously, I have to scrub and wash my entire body as well, and let's not forget shaving. I shave everything.  And to make sure I try to get every hair around my pussy and asshole, it may take me several minutes.

Oh, and I forgot another important step even before the shower. Giving myself an enema and making sure my ass is clean to fuck. Because I offer Greek, this is something I always do. Half the time people don't bother to say they want that service, but do when they are in a session with me, so I'm always prepared. 

And let's just talk about anal for a moment. Rarely am I not able to provide it. Even if I spend half an hour or more making sure it's prepped, sometimes my body doesn't always cooperate. It happens. So don't be pissed if I tell you I can't do that. I'm assuming you'd rather not do it, than say, get shit on your dick. And even if you do, if there's even a smidgeon of shit, please don't freak out like you're a ten-year-old boy. Shit happens. Maybe we've gone out to dinner with you or needed to grab something to eat between calls, so things get pushed and moved around, despite already cleaning my ass for half an hour before leaving the house. If I'm not confident I'm 100% ready to go, I won't offer it to you, but sometimes shit does happen.

This is also why I do not charge extra for anal, as many providers do, usually charging an extra $100. (Hint, tipping me for this service is always appreciated because I do not charge extra.  It doesn’t have to be an extra $100, but at least a $20 would be nice and that would cover the cost of parking).  It takes some of the pressure off me if I’m not able to provide that service.  Only once have I not been able to.  And I did do the preparation, as I always do, but my digestive system was not cooperating that evening, so I informed my client, and he was still happy to see me.

And since we're already on the subject of anal. Gentleman, if you want us to fuck you with strap-on, or stick a finger, or our tongue up your asshole, please have the same courtesy we try to give to you. I'm not into smelling your shit. I'm not even into shitting on people.  Although, I've gotten a few requests to do that. So if you think there's something lurking in your rectum that hasn't been expelled yet, please don't make us fuck your shitty ass.

Alright, so I’m freshly showered, my ass is clean, my makeup is done.  Well, I haven’t even done my hair yet.  Just drying it and using a flat-iron, if I decide not to curl it, takes about 10 minutes.  

Now to dress.  I usually try to figure out what I am going to wear before I do my makeup, since I often, if you haven’t noticed, try to match my makeup to my attire.  And because I’m not that flexible and I don’t have one of the tools to help me zip up my dress (I did just remember to order one as I was typing this), dressing could take me ten minutes.  Then I have to accessorize.  Earrings, necklace, what purse will go best, not to mention picking out the shoes.  

If I have to switch purses, I have to transfer everything I am going to need into that purse.  Wallet, money, lipstick, a shower cap, condoms.  

After finally cleaning my ass, showering, doing my makeup and hair, dressing and accessorizing, I then let my dogs out to the yard so they can have a bathroom break before I’ll be gone for a couple hours or more.  

My three boys are always crated while I am getting ready.  I don’t trust them, particularly my “special dog,” Atticus, because he still likes to chew on things he is not supposed to.  Plus, I’m not going to leave them out in the yard unsupervised and especially not in the Vegas heat.  

I let the kids out into the yard for 5-10 minutes.  If I’m in a hurry, I’ll let them out while I am getting dressed and accessorizing to save on time.  

I put the boys back in their crates, and then I’m finally ready to leave.  I live about twenty minutes from the strip, so I also calculate the duration of my travel time into the preparation time.  

 Let’s say 20-30 minutes of driving, and then I usually self-park if I don’t have to valet, or if I don’t have a choice to.  Some hotels only allow guests to valet.  I know if I have to go to the MGM Signature Tower side, it takes me fifteen minutes to self-park and walk all the way to Tower 3.  And I’m a fast walker and there’s always a crowd of people I have to weave through.  So that’s another 10-15 minutes after I park to finally arrive at your hotel door.  

 Now some of you might argue that I do not have to do the full glam makeup I always do.  But even doing a light makeup look will maybe only shave off 10-20 minutes.  Since learning how to properly apply makeup and contour, I do not leave the house for a date without doing so.  

 You are paying to spend time with the sizzling, Asian persuasion porn star, not the boring, ‘Netflix & chill’ girl, you probably already have at home.  

 I took advice from the show “Secret Diary of a Call Girl.”  You are supposed to look your best.  That’s why I dress the way I do, that’s why I spend so much time making sure I present the image you desire.  I am not going to leave my house without feeling comfortable enough that when you open the door, you will be stunned and exhilarated by my presence.  

 Trust me, it’s been well over a year since I learned to properly do makeup, and about two years since I started escorting.  I do often think it is much easier to be a decent looking guy than a decent looking woman. Showering doesn’t take nearly as long, since many don’t have to shampoo and condition long hair.  Yes, you still have to shave, both around your cock & balls, but also your face.  But dressing is so much easier to do.  Everything buttons in the front!  And even if you do accessorize, you just have to grab a wallet and you’re out the door.

 I appreciate those who say how beautiful I look without makeup, but would you really want me showing up to your hotel and paying me for my time without even mascara on?  I doubt it.  

 Plus, the years of being ingrained in me that I am not pretty by peers and society, does not provide me comfort.  And now the self-image issues are furthered by the porn industry who has little interest in shooting Asians, so my insecurities continue to fester.  So no, I will never show up to a date without makeup and my hair styled.  

 Please give me the courtesy of wanting to look my best for you and that I have a life outside of just doing this.  Patience and respect will result in a very satisfying reward, I promise you.  

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

Nirvana

I was listening to NPR on my way to LA and a man was talking about how he discovered Nirvana during the LA riots and how that changed his life.  NPR was playing some of their songs in the background, so I decided to listen to “Nevermind” after I finished NPR’s ‘All Things Considered.’  

What a great album.  Crazy to think I was six when “Nevermind” came out.  Of course, I didn’t listen to Nirvana until I was an early emo-teenager and obviously after I knew Cobain had committed suicide.  

I watched HBO’s “Kurt Cobain: Montage of Heck” when it came out.  He was unbelievably talented.  

The music artists we lost so early, I wonder, as most people do, how they would have affected the music today if they were still around.

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

Climax

One word you cannot use in an Eros ad:  Climax.  

This sentence was not allowed:  “The experience should be sensual, effortless and grow to a magnificent climax in such a way that everything else is forgotten and you melt within the experience.”

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

Aroo!

On March 18th, I did not die during my first Spartan race.  I was quite proud of myself.  Only five weeks before had I signed up to join a novice team this gym was putting together.

 After my four days of snowboarding in Keystone, Colorado, I was feeling amped up from again not dying.  That trip was only the second time I had gone boarding.  The first time was ten years prior on an icy bunny hill in Vermont.  

 I was just telling my friend, who also went on the snowboarding trip with me, that I always wanted to do a Spartan.  And on one of the night's we were there, I happened to see on social media that this Crossfit gym was organizing first time Spartans to participate in the Las Vegas course.  

 I sent in the request to join the team, received an email, and that Saturday after my trip, on February 11th, I signed up to do my very first one.  

 Now anyone who is not familiar with Spartans, there are three different distances, technically four, but if you've heard of someone say they got their Spartan Trifecta, what they are referring to is obviously just three.  The first is the Sprint, which is about 5 miles with 15-20+ obstacles.  Second, is the Super, which is about 8-10 miles with 20-25+ obstacles, and the last is the Beast, approximately 13-15 miles with 25+ obstacles.  The fourth one is called the Ultra Beast which is a marathon, 26+ miles with several obstacles.  

 I met a client who has down all four, and he said the Ultra Beast is just "stupid."  Meaning, it's just stupid for anyone to put themselves through it, unless you really are a masochist.  

 I figured that because this would be our first Spartan, we would be doing the Sprint. Nope, we were doing the Super.  "Oh, crap," I thought, "I'm going to die."

 As part of our commitment to run with the team, we had to go to at least one of three designated workouts each week.  I tried to go as often as I could, and I did go to at least one a week, but with traveling I couldn't make all three.  Now these workouts were focused on our mental and physical conditioning for the Spartans, as well as instructions for some of the obstacles we would see in the race.  

 I also tried to go to as many Crossfit classes as I could to build up strength.  On Tuesdays and Thursdays at my 24 hour gym, they offer RPM cycling and Vinyasa Yoga.  So after my Crossfit class, I would go to those too whenever I could.  

 Five weeks went by quickly, and at the beginning of the last week, the owner sent us an email saying we could either choose to run the Super or the Sprint. The Super was on Saturday, the Sprint on Sunday.  I was leaning towards doing the Sprint, but with the prodding of one of the trainers and finding out that most of my newbie teammates were doing the Super, I decided to commit to Saturday.  

 Some people on my team were saying it was only forty-five minutes to Mesquite.  And I stupidly didn't bother to check until the night before.  It actually takes ninety minutes to get there.  So I realized I needed to get up at 5:00 AM and I should have already been asleep in bed.  It was already 10:00 PM.  

 One melotonin, and a couple puffs of a bowl to help me relax, I still was awake with anxiety and anticipation.  I'm really bad at relaxing and getting sleep prior to an event.  Same thing happened when I did the NYC Marathon a few years ago. I work myself up with not only thinking about the physical task I'll be doing the next day, but also with saying to myself, "You need to get to sleep!"  But then as the hour’s tick on by, I get more anxious.  

 I don't think I ever went into a deep sleep the night before my Spartan race.  I may have nodded off there and again, but I remember thinking, "Fuck, I'm not going to get any real sleep."

 Five AM soon rolled around and I slowly went through the usual wake up routine-- locating my glasses, pissing, brushing teeth, and putting in my contacts.  

 My scientist made me banana and blueberry pancakes and couple eggs.  I tried to eat as much as I could because I knew I would need the energy, but my nerves were preventing me to enjoy the full meal and plus, we were crunched for time.  

 I packed the cooler with water and Gatorade and filled up my camel back.  We backed up my vehicle and I was soon speeding up 15 towards the race.  I got off the exit, just past the border into Littlefield, Arizona, and followed the line of cars that I assumed were all going to the same spot I was.  

 There were lines of vehicles in the middle of this field.  It was $10 to park and $20 just to be spectator and I wondered how much money they profit off each of these races.  

 I put waterproof bandages on my dermal piercings in hopes it would help protect them from being caught on anything.  Slipped on my compression socks and Inov-8s and I headed towards registration.  

 My gym won biggest team, so we had the biggest tent and I soon spotted where we were located. A lathered myself with few layers of sun block, attached the tags, and I was soon at the starting line.  

 My team went off at 9:15 AM.  It hadn’t gotten too hot yet, but by the end of the race, I could feel the sun beating down. People can choose to start in the afternoon, and I had no idea how people can make it through starting at 1:00 PM, when it was up to the high 80s that day.  

 I started off with my novice team, but I couldn’t find the one young woman who was usually there at practices.  She and I were similar in pace, so I was hoping she was there to keep me motivated. I later found out she missed her alarm and had to start at 9:30 AM.  

 I was soon running ahead of my novice team members.  Running in the sand sucks, but it actually wasn’t too bad for me. During the obstacles, there were times I needed assistance, like going over the 8 feet wall.  But mostly I was battling with myself, such as carrying a sandbag for a certain distance.  

 I think it was around mile 6 and there was this obstacle that was this curved bar. It curved inward and although it looks easy, you need to have the muscle strength and technique to get over it.  I was actually able to get onto it with no issue and started climbing, but there was another girl on the left of me and she was hesitating to climb over it.  It is pretty high up so it is a little intimidating.  I noticed her hesitation and allowed her to go ahead, but that was a mistake because I spent my energy waiting for her and then I didn’t have enough strength to get myself over, so I actually fell down on my back.  Luckily, there was straw underneath to break my fall, but it sucked that I couldn’t get over it.  And every time you can’t do an obstacle, it’s 30 burpees.  

 My legs cramped for the last mile.  And of course the last mile is where most of the obstacles are.  I didn’t attempt the rope climb because I couldn’t do it at the gym, so that was another 30 burpees.  Missed the spear throw, 30 burpees.  And two of the last obstacles were monkey bars and the multi-rig (where you’re hanging and have to get across like you would with monkey bars).  I attempted the first one, but my leg immediately cramped up and I had to fall down, 30 burpees.  So I didn’t attempt the multi-rig, 30 burpees.  

 I finished in approximately 3.5 hours.  If I didn’t have to do 120 burpees in that last half a mile, I probably would have finished closer to three hours.  

 The last obstacle is jumping over fire.  I ran through the finish line, a lady hung my metal over my head, and I grabbed a banana they were handing out at the end of the race.  I limped to my scientist and back over to the tent.  

 Sore, beaten, and exhausted, I reclined my seat in the car as we drove back to Vegas. I wondered how people who just did the Super like I did, were doing the Sprint the next day.  

 But I made it through, and with some things that cause pain, like tattoos and piercings, I was hooked.  I’ve signed up to do a Super and a Sprint in one weekend in May.  And I’m trying to coerce my Northeast friends to do a Beast with me in the fall, so that I may achieve my Trifecta this year.  

 I’ve been continuing with Crossfit and started back running again.  As I’ve mentioned in my tweets, losing fat has been much more difficult this year.  Just with cycling and rollerblading, I haven’t seen much change.  I’ve certainly gained muscle with Crossfit, but my fat percentage hasn’t significantly decreased the way I thought it would.  

 Age is definitely a factor, but I do believe this birth control implant is not doing me any benefit in the weight loss department.  I’ll see how it goes after six weeks of running approximately 20K a week, and if I don’t see significant change, I might just slice my arm open myself and take it out.  

 It definitely feels great to be stronger.  Last year I was thinner, but all I was doing was running pretty much.  Now I’m doing deadlifts with 175 pounds.  

 On my gym’s social media page, there was another young woman who’s been working out there for three months, and posted her transformation journey.  She was teased for her muscle structure all her life and her sole purpose of HIIT and cardio was to break down her muscle mass.  But she has since learned to embrace her body and now her focus is to be stronger and faster than she ever has been.  

 Although I don’t recall ever being teased specifically for my body structure, actually I’m probably criticized more now by haters than I was growing up, I definitely understand where this woman is coming from.  

 Everyone has different tastes, but as a young girl, I only had the skinny and slim models to compare myself to.  I’m broad and not narrow.  I’ve always had muscular thighs from sports and horseback riding.  And women who had muscle were seen as gross.  

 I appreciate that being fit and muscular is far more “in” than before.  But women are still built differently, so we can look different even if we’re fit and muscular.

 Take Kayla Itsines, for example.  I love the positivity and motivation she has within her program, as well as the food pictures she posts, they’re always so colorful, and she’s without question very fit. But she has a completely different body structure than I do.  

 Most men really cannot understand how much we torment ourselves when we are girls and even into adulthood.  And men can be cruel and stupid, let’s be honest here, and they usually have a misconception on what women are supposed to look like, and if there is any variation from that perception, they then think a woman is fat.  

 I weigh 155 now with 22-23% body fat.  At the end of October, I wrote I was 138 and 22% body fat.  So guess what?  I gained muscle, not fat.  But do you know how many men would think I’m a fatty if I put that I weigh 155?  Even with recent photos, men would still probably think that my photos must by years old, and now I’m the size of Kung Fu Panda.

 I get very defensive about this, and not only for myself but other women.  A client asked me who I do duos with, and I told him my good friend, Jasmeen Lefleur.  He responded, “Okay, don’t take this the wrong way, but is she a bit heavy? I like petite and small.”

 My immediate response was, “She isn’t fat.  She’s curvy and muscular.  And if you like women who are petite and small, what are you doing with me?”

 Ugh, men. *Rolling my eyes as I type this.*

 By the way, I love Jasmeen’s body.  Her skin is deliciously smooth and I like that she’s strong.  I like women who look like they won’t break while being fucked. Plus, Jasmeen has an incredibly kind soul.  

 Anyway, back to society’s perception of beauty.  

 So men, again, let me repeat, since some of you still haven’t learned this, women come in all shapes and sizes.  We don’t all have to have a 22-inch waist and a space between our thighs to be beautiful. Some of us have muscular thighs that can be used to choke you out or run Spartan races.  

[sizzlingasianpersuasion]

Would I fuck a Trump supporter?

A Twitter follower recently asked me if I would still see clients even if they were Trump supporters? I answered yes, however I would not see anyone who stays at a Trump property.  I refuse to step a foot into one of his hotels while he undermines America’s principles and democracy.  

 And if you are still a Trump supporter after four weeks of his presidency, I have one question for you – how?  

 Some of you were ignorant to think he would change tactics after being inaugurated.  Your argument was, “He’s just doing whatever to get elected. Give him a chance.”  Despite the fact that he showed no intent on changing his behavior.  He was consistent with his divisiveness on attacking others and stroking his ego. Why you thought he was magically going to change once he was in office, is well, stupid.  

 During AVN, I was fortunate enough to finally see Joey Kim perform at Beauty Bar in Downtown Las Vegas. I sat at the bar sipping my Tito’s and tonic, patiently waiting for the performances to begin.  The bar started to fill with more people and I passed the time scrolling through my Twitter feed to read the news posts from The New York Times, Washington Post, and the Wall Street Journal.

 I was reading a NY Times post, I believe, that was of course about our Orange Dictator.  The man next to me asked if I was a fan of our new president, and I immediately responded no, and that he was a joke.  

 We continued to talk, since the performance was still yet to begin.  He was well-dressed, mid-30’s, 6’4”, and from Texas.  Appearance wise, he was attractive, but then he had to open his mouth and by the end of our conversation, the only way I would have touched him is if he paid for me to hate-fuck him.  

 I was trying my best to have an informed discussion with him.  After much talk about how Democrats and liberals can win back their side, I didn’t want to be the angry, Millennial Liberal that no one wants to listen to because she’s too far left.  We do need to have discussions with each other if we want to try to get anywhere for the sake of our country.  

 We found common ground about jobs (after I repeated the unemployment rate under Obama), infrastructure, and people not taking advantage of the system.  But then we started talking about police violence and biases. After the Baltimore and Chicago Department of Justice reports, I find it ridiculous for anyone who wants to still argue that racial profiling does not occur.  

 Listen, we all have biases, but only some of us are able to recognize that we have those cognitive biases and decide whether or not to have those biases influence our behavior.  

 This Texan tried to make an argument that if I see two black men mysteriously hanging out by my vehicle, I am going to have a certain reaction, but if it were two white men, I would have a different reaction.  My point was that if two men were mysteriously hanging out by my car, no matter what their skin color was, I would be suspicious.  

 So then he tried to further his argument by comparing dog breeds.  “If you have twelve dogs lined up in a row, and one of them is a Pit Bull, you know the Pit Bull is going to bite you.”

 “Uh, no.  You don’t know that.  I’m a Pit Bull owner so that argument is not going to work with me.”  

 Just assuming that a person or an animal is going to react harmfully based solely on appearance, is wrong.

 Dogs actually helped teach me not to have biases towards people.  The only dog that ever bit me was a Cocker Spaniel, owned by the mechanic my parents used to go to.  He warned me his dog was not kid friendly, but I being a small child and convinced I could win over any animal still wanted to pet him.  I did not win him over and he snapped at my fingers.  

 But my aunt and uncle later got a Cocker and she was the sweetest little thing.  I learned then that it’s all about how a dog is raised and to not judge others, whether it be people or animals, by what is on the outside.

 I really have a hard time understanding how people on this planet lack compassion.  When I watch reports on the Syrian refugees and they choke up about how they lost their home, their job, possibly friends and relatives, and they probably will not be reconnected with some of their family, I begin to tear up.  I don’t know how people automatically assume someone is going to be terrorist, especially when it comes women and children.  If you are really worried about a five-year-old, Syrian refugee coming into this country, I suggest you self-evaluate before blaming an innocent child for his place of origin.  

 Is it really so hard a task to try and reverse the roles?  Imagine we were at war and needed a safe place to go.  Everything you had is destroyed.  The only thing you have left is your family, if you’re even that lucky and no one was killed.  But then your family is separated based on where they have been assigned to go, and you are hated upon by others in your new country based solely on the fact on where you fled from.  

 The Texan’s last point was to give Trump a chance.  This was only the first day of his presidency.  I told him I would.  “I don’t want our country to fail, I hope he is going to do good things for the benefit of the American people.”

 But four weeks in and I’m surprised I haven’t developed an ulcer yet.  Every time I get a notification from NPR or BBC News, I cringe.  It’s scary.  And how those of you who are still in support of him and are not concerned by his behavior, tactics, and administration, truly baffles me and makes things even scarier.  

 So yes, I’ll fuck a Trump supporter.  Only if I’m being paid.  Money is money, right?  If there is not an equal exchange of power, then there would be no exchange at all.