Running From Grace

Just recently, I watched a movie that completely blew me away. I was intrigued by the four stars it received on Netflix and I am a big Brittany Murphy fan (RIP), so I decided to give it a try. It is entitled “Spun” and here is the synopsis.

Spun’s unique glimpse into the world of methamphetamines has wowed audiences since its debut at the 2002 Toronto International Film Festival, with outstanding performances from Jason Schwartzman, Mena Suvari, John Leguizamo, Brittany Murphy and more. The fast-paced, hard-hitting drama expertly combines the gritty reality of drug addiction with occasional biting humor for an unforgettable look at frantic lives spinning out of control.

The film is a very interesting, unique look into the lives of drug addicts and I honestly loved every second of it. Most of the scenes were very choppy and fast paced and there was also some random images thrown in here and there that made you feel like you were tweeking right along with the characters. Very well done. So how does this movie fit in with RFG? Well you can’t have a movie about drugs without some hardcore strip club scenes. Despite my intense love for the style of this film, I felt it played on stereotypes that I have tried desperately to debunk. For example, in the first club scene, the dancers are walking around with exposed breasts. Although this isn’t a huge deal, it’s not very realistic. In most clubs (atleast the ones I have worked in), you must be completely covered by an outfit while hanging out with customers on the floor. I think this makes sense because why would you show the goods for free? Second of all, the main character goes home with a really beautiful stripper and ends up having wild sex with her. He then keeps her hand cuffed to the bed for three days while he does work for the drug dealer. They don’t really go into detail as to how he knew the dancer prior to this fuck session, but this does not happen. Yes some dancers sleep with customers for a fix or a quick buck, but there was no exchange of any of this (maybe a little drug use). Also, is she really that big of a loser that no one would realize she was missing for three days? And lastly, Nikki, the character played by Brittany Murphy, was dating the drug dealer and seemed more strung out than any of them. Surprise surprise she was also a dancer. I understand that it is only a movie and alot of things are exaggerated for a dramatic effect. But I feel that every movie that has a club scene features a stripper or group of strippers that are completely fucked up to the point where people feel confident saying all dancers suck at life. Some of them definitely do, don’t get me wrong. But when some retard asks me to go home with him or tries to sell me drugs, I can’t help but take the stereotypes personal. What you see in the movies is not always what happens in real life, dude. If that were the case, music would start magically playing through imaginary speakers when we kissed our significant other for the first time. Us ladies would wake up with make up on and you men would always have the perfect pick-up line. And most importantly, everyone would have a happy ending. That, in my opinion, is the biggest joke of all.

Every once in a while, I get to this point. Usually it involves Everclear, my car, and some long expressways. Other times, I end up taking a really long walk through the city. Never do I ever call someone. Basically, I fall victim to my thoughts and nothing feels better than getting lost in my own head. Also, I crave the sensation of being physically close to someone. Completely contradictory, I know. But when I get to this point, I either want no one or someone in my bed. What the hell is that all about? Because today was a long drive day, I analyzed some of my recent actions and I actually thought there is a good chance I am a sex addict. The term initially made me laugh out loud when certain celebrities, like David Duchovny and Tiger Woods, made it famous. Of course you are going to get alot of ass if you are loaded with money and are atleast somewhat attractive. The problem is, these men got married long before they were actually ready to settle down and their sexual urges got the best of them. I don’t see addiction here. Only guys that got cornered by a) pressures of society b) pressure from family c) pressures from the wife. In saying all of this, does sex addiction actually exist? And if so, where do I fit in? First of all, I love working as a stripper. I enjoy being watched on stage and I like the sexual intimacy created in a lap dance (if it is done right). Second of all, I can tell immediately when a guy (a normal guy, not a customer) is into me and I take full advantage of this. By saying this, I don’t mean I am a gold digging bitch. I just mean I play mind games, try and get in his head and fuck with his thoughts to the point where I am in control. I guess this connects to how I handle myself in the strip club and it ultimately protects me from getting hurt. Nothing is more intriguing to me than a guy that plays the games right back. But that is besides the point. Basically I am in control which means that I make the first move when it comes to sexual intimacy. And trust me, I always make the first move. I am not impulsive nor do I have one night stands, but I do love the thrill of that first encounter where everything is new and incredibly hot. And just like that, I’m bored. When stuff like that happens, I totally see how working as a dancer has affected my personal life. It’s like “OK, I got the dance. Move on to the next guy.” I abhor this part of me that has developed over the years. So, like the pathetic celebrities, I am desperate to put a name on my strange syndrome. Turns out, I am normal. I don’t compulsively masturbate. I actually know the people I sleep with and I think cybersex is completely pointless. Porn bores me. People who suffer from sex addiction are obsessed to the point where it ruins their lives, but I merely use sex as a means to explore people. When you are naked with another person, not only do you see every inch of their skin but you also get a glimpse into their soul. Atleast that is how I see it. This is the reason I can not have one night stands. I need to know the person pretty well so I have an idea of what I am looking for and as soon as I find it, I see a depth that is so beautiful. So unique and mysterious. All I want to do is dive in and that is exactly what I do. Some people call this slutty. Others think it is necessary. I say I am addicted to life and nothing is going to keep me from getting my fix.

I just recently returned from a lovely trip. A trip to visit a fellow degenerate, in fact. Instead of shooting up and having promiscuous sex, the two of us opted for more ordinary activities. Spending time outdoors. Watching movies. Shopping. Going out to eat. I also received a wonderful birthday present that I just can not stop looking at. I was given a painting, not of an animal or a place, but of myself. On one side, there is me holding one of my books, dressed in a conservative button up shirt and sweater. On the other side, I am donning a sexy school girl outfit equipped with a garter and some fantastic cleavage. I can not express how touched I was by how much work was put into it and I am so thrilled to add it to my collection of erotic pictures. One degenerate can paint. The other can write. And we both love strip clubs. Is this really possible?

My painting is not the only work of art I laid my eyes on this past weekend. We were wandering around Barnes and Noble the other day and a book caught my eye. A book called Suicide Girls: Beauty Redefined. It was larger than all of the other paperbacks in its section and I was immediately intrigued by its cover. A punky looking cartoon girl with a very sexy smirk on her face. I knew it had to be photography of some sort by the shape of the book so I wasted no time taking a look. What I saw within the pages completely blew me away. Suicide Girls: Beauty Redefined turned out to be a collection of erotic photography, but it was not your typical female models. Most of these girls were covered in tattoos and had piercings in spots I didn’t know one could pierce. They were dark with the occasional blast of color, either in the hair, make up, or background, and best of all, they were completely naked. And sexy. Unbelievably sexy. The screeching opinions of mainstream society were unheard over the deafening body language and the roaring confidence. These girls were the definition of beautiful and I could not pry myself away from this book. I was then asked if I would pose for anything like that. My answer… in a heart beat. However, there are certain things that would have to fall into place before I would be able to take on such an endeavor. First of all, I would have to be sure my reputation could take such a blow. Stripping is a big one, but I can walk away from it without leaving a trace of my presence. A photograph can follow you everywhere. Second of all, I am not as bad ass as the Suicide Girls. I have a couple small, modest tattoos and I think alot of make up overwhelms my features. Of course I can rock out in front of a camera so I think I would be OK regardless of the rather “bare” exterior. If I ever did something like this, I would want people to have the same reaction I did when I opened the book. She is not just a nude body. She is a rule breaker. A symbol of strength. Radiant. Fierce. She spreads her legs for the sake of art. For the sake of beauty. Uncovered lips shouting fuck you. Fuck me. She is aware of the consequences. Yet takes the risk. Because nothing is as tragic as a girl that gives in.

I had a good night last night. Not only did I get two VIP dances, but I was also nailing single dances left and right. It seems no one wanted to say no to Phoenix last night. Due to the state of exhaustion that my entire body is in, I am going to keep it light today. Maybe watch a movie or run some errands. Pet my cat. Oh, and possibly give myself a pedicure with this fabulous nail polish color I found.

O.P.I. Nail Lacquer in "I'm Not Really A Waitress"

Happy Hump Day.

After careful consideration, I have decided that I will enter the crazy cat lady phase a little early. I absolutely hate people. They are selfish, cold-hearted, jealous, and completely untrustworthy, not to mention egotistical and fragile. Of course I have been in every single one of these categories as well with the exception of untrustworthy. I can definitely keep a secret. But really, how are humans capable of all of this? Are our sophisticated brains holding us back from really living life? Or do we need this sophistication to propel mankind into some kind of super era? If you ask me, I say animals have the right idea. In my years as an exotic dancer, I have heard the same story over and over again. I hate men, but I have a dog that I would marry if I legally could. I hate men, but I have five cats that mean the world to me. I hate men. I hate men. I hate men. Alot of this stems from bad experiences in childhood and alot of girls find comfort in the innocence of animals. Cats and dogs are incapable of judging people. When a dancer sits with a customer or takes the stage, she is being physically sized up and often times she will never live up to the insane expectations of people without a ton of plastic surgery. Bravery can only take you so high. It’s confidence that is the key to staying above it all and that can be completely exhausting. When in the company of a pet, there is no need to suck your stomach in to make your boobs look bigger. Animals don’t care if you have a little lisp or if you have an odd looking belly button. Having that “break” from the pressures of society is revitalizing and relaxing, which is why I feel alot of women in the stripping/adult film industry become actively involved in PETA and vegetarianism. They simply get to the point where I am and that is the realization that there are no good people out there. It is truly a sad world. I haven’t touched red meat or chicken for three years now and I am very proud of myself for sticking with it. My reasons… the book “Skinny Bitch” completely horrified me, the documentary “Food, Inc.” made me physically sick, and I don’t like the taste of meat. When someone asks me why I choose this lifestyle, I want to sum all of that up in one sentence. (“Because I hate you”.) Instead, I try and explain my reasons and just get met by blank stares or nervous fidgeting. As far as PETA goes, they have been under fire for years for using provocative images to advertise their cause. I think this is pure genius. It gets people talking and nothing spreads information faster than a bunch of people that think they should feel offended. Below are some ads on google image search that I think are interesting and if this bothers you, I don’t give a fuck.

Sophie Monk for PETA

Alicia Silverstone for PETA

Joanna Krupa for PETA

Annalise for PETA

Corey and Susie Feldman for PETA

I am not one of those crazies that will preach my ways to meat loving friends or throw a cup of blood on an old lady wearing a dead fox around her neck. I will, however, expect people to think outside the box and understand that there are individuals out there that prefer to live against what society says. Alas, we are back to square one. Everything I need to know about life I can learn from watching my cat. Eat when you’re hungry. Sleep when you’re sleepy. And when you see someone you love hurting, wait until they are done trashing the apartment before making an attempt to cuddle.