K & I (along with Belial, Lexi Lamour, Ethan Cage and others) have been buried well past our enormous genitals (well, in my case, anyway… Lexi does not have enormous genitals) in helping out with the production aspects of my friend Ren Savant’s big Adam & Eve epic, The 8th Day.

As is common with these shows, it has eaten our lives and spit out rancid pips of broken bodies and spirits in its wake. I’ve also been doing the final renders on Hillary Scott: ICON, my big-budget all-sex paen to SexZ Pictures’ contract star which comes out in September. The movie turned out great, and I’ll be posting the music video we did for it shortly.

Today, while distracting K through a migraine, I stumbled upon a website called Uncyclopedia. It bills itself as “The content-free encyclopedia,” and it’s brilliant. Like Wikipedia, it is a random collection of bullshit articles that bear little or no resemblance to the actual facts of any person/place/thing/event, but in the case of Uncyclopedia, that’s the point.

Also, the articles on Uncyclopedia are extremely funny. And, since it’s built on a fully-functional wiki engine, if you don’t like the answers you find there, you can insert your own. Just like Wikipedia. I recommend strating with the article on Cheerios and going from there…

Oh, and I heard a great joke yesterday: “Sarah Palin!”

I’m pissing myself!

Let’s take a moment to discuss psychosis, shall we? It’s axiomatic to state that there are a lot of crazy people in porn. In fact, when I ran AVN, I used to say that everyone in the industry fell into at least one of three categories: paranoids, neurotics and sociopaths. A rare few of us fall into all three (and perhaps more). Nobody gets into this business because they’re normal and well-adjusted. So stating that there are “a lot” of crazies is actually an understatement.

Taken as a whole, porn biz nutjobs range from the harmlessly eccentric (“Really? You wanna lick my feet after I walked in the gutter? Really?”) to the sphincter-clenchingly insane (“C’mon, what are ya gonna do? Hit me with the car? OH GOD MY PELVIS!!!”)

Since I generally prefer to be the only certifiable maniac in the room at any given time, I try to avoid the truly scary lunatics, but once in a while one sneaks in. Today I was reminded of my brush with an emotionally-challenged Payday bar named Mae Victoria. I haven’t thought about Mae at all for nearly a year now, but this morning she was top-of-the-pops doing an interview on one of the porn gossip sites blathering about everyone who’s wronged her including — to my bemused surprise — Kylie & Derrick Pierce.

For those who haven’t heard of Mae — which I’ll assume is all of you — she’s a D-list performer who rarely works for the same director twice. At the age of 39, you really couldn’t describe Mae as a has-been; she’s a never-was. She aspires to be a has-been. If the core of the industry is made up of stars and starlets, Mae Victoria would be… an asteroid.

As for the severity of Mae’s crazy, I pity the man in her life because that poor bastard has a boiled rabbit waiting in his future, you mark my words.

What Mae was bitching about on the web was Kylie’s MILF movie for SexZ, Mommy Rearest. In response to a question about what she’s been doing lately, she went off on what horrible people Kylie and Derrick are. The irony is that Mommy Rearest was shot last September, so if that’s what she’s been doing lately, times must be really tough in the asteroid business.

In the interest of full disclosure, I shot camera on Mommy Rearest, which gave me plenty of time to sit back and watch the show. After all, I like a bit of cabaret with my porn production (as long as it’s not my show), and when Mae Victoria walked in lugging her trunkful of nutso behind her, there was plenty of cabaret.

That’s about all Mae brings to the table. Nice tits (that you can’t touch) and a boatload of crazy. Oh, and bush. Lots and lots of bush. But I’ll get to that in a minute.

On the day we shot Mae, she showed up three hours early. We assumed there had been some screw-up with the booking but she explained she was there early in case Kylie wanted her to shave off her huge red matted 70s bush. She explained she’d been doing a lot of hairy pussy web work, but was willing to shave.

We got the impression this was one of the first movies she’d ever done. And while she offered to shave, she made it really clear that she really didn’t want to. Since Kylie had cast Mae as a white trash mom having her car repossessed, she decided the bush worked and let Mae keep it.

The next two hours were devoted to shooting Kylie’s scene with Moxxie Maddron and Alex Sanders. We shot dialogue outside, and then the scene, and the entire time, Mae was wandering around like a bored kid getting pouty that no one would play with her. She plainly hated not being the center of attention, and kept lifting up her top getting every man on set to play with her tits.

Except, of course, she doesn’t want anyone to touch her tits. At all. She made me think of Lucy van Pelt yanking away the football every time Charlie Brown went to punt. Because the crazy just rolls off of her in waves, like psychic B.O., Mae has all the erotic appeal of a burlap sack filled with dead rodents. But, she has a great rack, and does her best to get everyone to pay attention to it, and by extension, her.

A quick digression — I had to laugh when Mae said Kylie had a “dog face” in her interview… that’s why she has a legion of fans all over the world, babe, and you, uh, don’t. Have any. But then what can you expect from a fruit rind circling the punchbowl when everyone drinks from the middle? Projection, much?

Sorry. So the tits. Derrick showed up after Kylie’s scene, and was flirting with Moxxie who was still hanging around because we like Moxxie and she has a crush on me and desperately wants to have rough, violent sex with me but I’m toying with her affections.

Oh, right. Real world. Sorry. So Moxxie likes it rough and Derrick is pinching her nipples. He tweaked one and Moxxie offered the other telling him to even it out. Mae watched this, obviously seething that “her” guy was flirting with another girl (Derrick was still reeling from the crotch-forest revelation), and protested that he absolutely couldn’t do that to her nipples. She went on to say that her breasts were so sensitive he couldn’t touch them. At all. This scene was gonna be a real scorcher.

At this point, the idea had already been floated in private of dumping Mae and replacing her, or shooting the scene at a later date. We’d had three hours of her being squirrely, shifty, disappearing into the bathroom for long stretches of time, complaining about the fact that it was an anal scene (“how many minutes of anal are we going to shoot?”) and alternately hitting on every guy in the room and talking about how disgusting the business is.

Hot stuff, to be sure. But Kylie decided to press ahead. We struggled through the dialogue, Mae giving Kylie grief about it at every turn, and finally got to the sex.

Which was a nightmare.

I’ve never felt so sorry for any performer during a scene as I did for Derrick Pierce that night. In her little online tirade, Mae talks about how rough Derrick was with her, but there’s no doubt in my mind he was getting the abuse.

First of all, Derrick’s not a rough guy unless the girl asks him for it, and he knows her well. He was anything but rough with Mae, though I’m sure he wanted to strangle her. I know I did.

First she tried to blow him as if she could do it without actually using her mouth. She’d flick out her tongue and kind of slide it near his cock, looking at the camera the whole time (which Kylie hates, and no matter how many times she said “please don’t look at the camera,” Mae just couldn’t fathom that).

Finally, we moved into the sex after the lamest blowjob in history. Mae, who knows we’re living with her tropical rainforest, but not loving it, keeps referring to it. “Oh, yeah daddy, fuck that hairy pussy! Bang that hairy pussy!” and every time she does, Derrick — who’s channeling into his happy place already — has to close his eyes and really be somewhere else to keep it going.

Unfortunately, every position seems to hurt her. Mish hurts. Doggy hurts. If he sticks in more than an inch it hurts. And we’re talking pussy, here. So we keep cutting for Derrick to get his edge back, and every time the cameras aren’t rolling, Mae is all over him like a cheap suit. “C’mon, Daddy, fuck me for real! You can fuck me as hard as you want!”

Derrick, understandably, declines. Me, I’d rather jerk it, too.

Then… “Rolling.” …wiggle…squirm…”Ow! Ouch! Not so deep!”…wiggle…squirm…roll…

She tells him he can spank her. He does. She hates it. She tells him to bite her. He does. She hates it. She tells him to pull her hair… you get the idea.

We finally get enough footage to put together a scene, and then, bob help us, it’s time for the anal.

I’d like to say right up front that I’ve got no problem whatsoever with girls who don’t do anal. There are a lot of girls who either don’t like it or who just can’t relax enough that it isn’t painful, and they make the wise decision not to do anal scenes.

Then there are crazy, two-dollar whores who are so desperate for cash they can’t think past accepting the job to the moment of having to actually do it and to them I say if you can’t do anal, DON’T DO FUCKING ANAL!

In the gossip column, Mae claims Derrick not only made her bleed, but that he did it intentionally. If only. Fact is, the only hemorrhaging was the crazy bleeding out of Mae’s mouth. We shot about eight minutes of really lousy anal, and Derrick ran away to the bathroom to get ready for the pop.

My favorite part of the night was when he came back, Mae told Derrick, “C’mon, daddy, fuck me till you come.” Derrick, seeing the finish line, shot back, “I ain’t gonna fuck you, now just sit there and let me jerk off.”

After a tough scene, you can’t help but wonder how far down the guys are going in their heads to get to the pop. On a different occasion, Ren Savant and I were shooting camera when Anthony Hardwood was trying to come with a cut in his foreskin (which had snagged on Nicki Hunter’s clit piercing). As we watched him concentrating, we joked under our breath “he’s thinking about a girl getting fucked in the ass… now it’s a nun getting fucked in the ass… now it’s an underage nun getting fucked in the ass… now it’s an underage nun getting fucked in the ass by a German shepherd…”

I was thinking about that as I watched Derrick concentrating like a motherfucker. But he popped, shot stills, and fled. And who can blame him. Unfortunately, after Mae had cleaned up and was ready to leave, we discovered that Derrick had grabbed her keys off the table without thinking.

For those of you — like me — who don’t drive cars that are fresher than the eggs at the supermarket, let me teach you something that I recently learned. Lots of new cars don’t have an ignition key. The fob has an encrypted bluetooth or RFID transmitter and the car simply recognizes that the key is near. You push a button and it starts. So Derrick had keys in his pocket and never realized that they weren’t his. His keys were also in his pocket, so the car started. And he left.

By the time we got hold of him, he was nearly to LAX where he was picking up his girlfriend. He met up with one of his friends who brought the keys back, but we had nearly two hours of waiting with the readheaded nutlog. Every fifteen minutes she called a guy she was supposed to be seeing later that night to update him on her status. Eventually we found out that it was Adam Rifkin (Ron Jeremy had hooked them up).

I wonder if Adam had seen a picture, or if he just took Ronny’s word? I know from the industry grapevine that Rifkin loves him the B-girls, but Mae seems a little low-rent, even for the director of The Dark Backward. I’m guessing he hadn’t seen her as she doesn’t photograph well. She groused online that we “cut her off the boxcover.” Hon, you were never the boxcover. She also said we chose the worst pictures we could to make her look more white trash.

Yeah, that makes sense. SexZ wants to make their product look as bad as possible. Could it possibly be that those were the good shots? As for looking white trash, well, ya can’t lie to the camera, babe. I guess self-realization is a game for the sane.

Mercifully the keys finally arrived, and Mae finally left to go see Adam Rifkin or howl at the moon or eat Scotch tape off the roll at Kinko’s or whatever-the-fuck complete psychos do with their spare time. As I said, I haven’t thought about her at all until today.

Next Halloween, I’m thinking of organizing a porno camping trip just ’cause Mae Victoria would make such a terrific fireside ghost story.

“Once there was a maniac porn chick with an inch-deep snatch, a tiny, atrophied asshole, a rotted pomegranate where her brain should be and a red, knitted hotpad sewn into her crotch!”


A little backstory; I’ve known Jenna Jameson since she was new enough to still have the price tag on her boobies. We were never close, never hung out or spent holidays together, but I did her first magazine interview, and we’ve always been friendly.

I watched her change from a sweet-natured kid from Vegas into the Ultimate Contract Star (built from scratch by Joy King), and from there into… whatever the hell she is now. I’ve heard dozens of horror stories about Jenna the Diva, Jenna the Queen Bitch, Jenna the Princess. Until recently, though, I’d never experienced any of it firsthand. Whenever I bumped into Jenna she was always extremely nice.

Last year I was shooting camera for Kylie on a SlutWerkz production, and we had booked the über-creepy abondoned Linda Vista hospital as a location. The day before we shot, they yanked it out from under us because a pile of shit calledZombie Strippers had the place booked, and the lead had it in her contract that no adult performers could be on the same set or in the same location.

That lead was Jenna.

I was thinking about that when K & I ended up right behind Jenna and her entourage on the red carpet at the awards. Realizing we were being inadvertently included in all those Jenna+Tito+2 photos, we tried to keep our distance. Jenna tried not to see us, but a moment came where we couldn’t be avoided.

In her best, completely fake pseudo-celebrity manner she burst into a semblance of a smile, gave each of us a hug, and introductions were made. Tito grimaced, shook hands, and looked like he had just remembered there were people in the room who Knew Her Before. He was obviously trying to intuit whether I had fucked her once upon a time, and what he should do about it.

It occurred to me that Jenna is so insulated from the pond that spawned her these days that Tito might not have had to deal with this moment of cognitive dissonance very often. It was plainly a new emotion for the two slabs of beef trailing behind JJ & TO. I can’t remember their names — I think they were Og and Grungh — but only one of them (Og I think) reacted in any way.

If Bruce Jenner was the epitome of a Wheaties box icon, Og was the perfect subject to grace the box of Steroidy-Ohs in a manner Barry Bonds could only dream of. He was 7′ 11″ tall with a neck thicker than a Blue Whale’s cock. His suit had obviously been cut to accentuate the absurdity of his physique (like stretching the car cover for a Miata around the fins on a Buick Roadmaster).

Og took my hand in his enormous paw, his eyes glinting with a deep, mean-spirited stupidty, and grumbled something that sounded like “Mice who weed cha.” He held my hand for a while, staring at me, expectant. After a moment, I realized I was meant to recognize him, but I have no idea who he was. One of Tito’s Ultimate Testosterone buddies I suppose, but for all I know he might have been the Lithuanian minister for finance, or maybe Dolph Lundgren’s Rocky IVstand in. Or both.

And, yeah, Jenna looks grotesque. I can’t even guess how many or what kinds of surgeries, treatments and eating disorders we’re talking about, but something is very rotten in the state of Scottsdale.

A moment later, we were past them, down the red carpet where I stood aside for several more pix of Kylie sans moi, and beyond the Playboy TV booth where the ignorant fucks didn’t even know one of Playboy’s own radio hosts. That’s not unusual, though, because nothing brands you as a pro in this business like complete ignorance of the people who actually work in the industry.

Which leads – making a long story… less long – to Jenna’s little onstage meltdown. I think so many people have focused on the “never spreading my legs again” thing that they’re missing the really egregious quote, the one which started her little off-book rant, and made those of us sitting at the SexZ table look around in shock and become white actors in a lame comedy sketch parodying black girls saying “oh no she didn’t…”

I’m referring to Jenna’s crack about “The road I paved to make all this possible.” That’s the key to everything that happened, the insight into the arrogance and ego that led to her trying to shit all over Stormy’s award before it was even given (I’m no fan of Stormy, but the way she handled it was brilliant).

Jenna was pissed that she wasn’t getting the award. In her head, naming it after her and removing her from contention so someone else could have a shot at the award wasn’t good enough… as far as Jenna was concerned, she should get the fucking thing every year, and we should all be grateful that the entire industry exists because of her.

Obviously, she didn’t get the memo that the entire industry exists because ofme.

My favorite moment of the night – apart from winning (oh yeah, we won. Again!) – was talking to Paul Fishbein, AVN‘s owner, at the SexZ after-party. I told Paul I was imagining him pacing back-and-forth with his head on fire during Jenna’s little tirade, and he told me he was actually enjoying it.

“It was a train wreck,” he said. “And I like a good train wreck.”

I like Christopher Guest a lot. Obviously, I like his Nigel Tufnel persona, I like what he has to say in interviews and his commentaries, and I like the fact he hasn’t tried to make his films a vehicle for his brother Nicholas, who I guarantee you’ve heard if not seen. And, in general, I enjoy Christopher’s films, although they tend to feel just shy of the mark.

K & I went to see For Your Consideration on Thursday, and if A Mighty Wind is the best of the Guest movies (my own opinion), this is definitely the worst (okay, I’ve never seen Almost Heroes, but I’ve read that it’s awful). It misses the mark for a lot of reasons, but they’re just refined versions of the problems present in all of his movies, i.e. a tendency to let things go to far. Eugene Levy’s two left feet in Best in Show is a prime example of the kind of excess that sinks these movies for me. If you listen to the commentary on that disc, you’ll discover that Gene Levy thought the bit was too much, and Guest talked him into it.

Well, Chris, Gene was right. For me, these films are at their best when they’re most real, and every time Fred Willard goes completely off the reservation — which he does in Considerationmore than in any other film — things start to fall apart. I’m sure it was a riot on set, but for those of us who weren’t there, not so much.

However, given that the entire movie is about the fury of egos that surrounds Oscar nominations, I thought it would make a delightfully ham-fisted segue into a discussion of our own AVNnominations. For the record, Corruption got 17 nominations, and we also got a few for the undeserving bastards at DVSX; Kylie’s Twisted as Fuck got 2, my girl/girl show Whoregasm got 1, and Grudgefuck got 1, for a total of 21. I also think we can take a bit of credit for Hillary’s Performer of the Year nom, just for putting her right in the center of the “serious work” spotlight.

I’m pretty damned good at handicapping the awards; Kylie has sat with me year after year as I predicted 90-95% of the winners. With that in mind, I’m going to present my rather bleak predictions for our awards chances:

Best Video Feature

Best High-Definition Production

(okay, I’m confused; as originally instituted, HD was considered a third medium, like film and video. Judging from the fact that everything here is a duplicate from some other “Best Genre” category, I’m guessing this will get downplayed. I’ll bet the voter’s will confused as hell, and decide this is a “quality of production” award unless instructed otherwise. My bet is on Sacred Sin, Island Fever 4, or Fashionistas)

Best Actress – Video; Hillary Scott

Hillary might win – and should – but I’m betting on Belladonna for Fashionistas. Too many people think of Hillary as “just a gonzo girl.”

Best Supporting Actress – Video; Alana Evans & Kylie Ireland

They killed us. If they’d picked one girl, I would have said we had a chance at this one. With the vote split, it’s unlikely…

Best Non-Sex Performance – Bryn Pryor

So few freelancers vote in this category, we might take it. Then again, you get a lot of really weird votes in this category. The reviewer who thought Xavier Towers – whoever the fuck that is – Was amazing in Bustful of Dollars will vote for him. Often this category is decided by two or three votes.

Best Director – Video
John Stagliano, with Micahel Ninn as a dark-horse second.

Best All-Girl Sex Scene
This’ll go to one of the Belladonna movies, or maybe Jenna Haze.

Best Oral Sex Scene
No way. I don’t know what will win, but it definitely won’t be us.

Best Threeway

Maybe. This is kind of a wide-open category, so we’ve got a chance, but it’s unlikely. One of the gonzo scenes will win, probably Jules Jordan.

Best Group Scene
We should win this, but Fashionistas will.

Best Solo
I think we’ve got a good shot at this.

Best Screenplay

I think we might take this. Hard to say, but they often vote for the underdog in this category.

Best Videography
I’m betting on Island Fever 4 or Sacred Sin.

Best Editing
Whatever has the most MTV-like editing will win. The rule with the voters is whatever has themost editing has the best editing. I’ll prognosticate after I’ve seen the contenders, but probablySacred Sin.

Best DVD Extras
Who can say? Three people vote in this category. Maybe Tailgunners.

Best Online Marketing Campaign
I think Britney, Manhunters or Island Fever 4.

As for the DVSX noms, those are just courtesy nods, though there’s a very slim chance for Twistedin Most Outrageous Sex Scene. Hillary, however, has a really good shot at Performer. It isn’t a lock, but she’s one of the three contenders.

If she wins, rest assured, I’ll be claiming even more undue credit than I am now.

Every once in a while, you find yourself working on an adult show that is so obviously a persistent example of Murphy’s law, so plainly and completely fucked from top to bottom, such a patent and unending catastrophe that the only sensible, logical and rational conclusion you can reach is that bob hates you and the show is cursed.

Kylie’s current Bad Seed shoot is like that.

Lucky for me I’m just the camera monkey as opposed to — as is more usually the case on a cursed production — the director. But still, I’ve been witness to some prime calamity over the past couple of days.

Yesterday was one for the books. Names have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty alike, so don’t try to figure out the who, just boggle at the what.

Our first scene was supposed to be a straightforward anal scene with a great performer who squirts, a girl we’ll call Blondie. She was working with… oh… Karl, we’ll say. Everything is going great until the first anal position, about ten minutes in. Reverse cowgirl. She squirts like crazy, then hops off to go down and suck his cock and somehow her clit-hood piercing inexplicably tears a chunk out of Karl’s foreskin.

Well, all the men on set spend the next ten minutes grimacing, sucking in their breath, talking in whispers and walking funny. Finally, when the pantomime is done, Karl announces he thinks he can finish the scene. And he does. Now tell me these people aren’t sexual athletes.


Comes time for the pop, and Karl’s weisswurst is looking more like chewed hamburger. No blood, but really, really red. Like red dye #5 red. Like someone was having their cycle, and it wasn’t Blondie. And he’s jacking… and jacking… and jacking… and the injured member is getting redder and rawer and we’re cringing and wincing. And he stops. And starts. And stops. And starts.

He’s numb. He’s raw. He’s got no place to grab. It ain’t gonna happen.

So Kylie mixes up a vaguely jism-like concotion, mostly out of confectionary-type materials (supposedly tasted like cookie batter), squirted the goop into Blondie’s snatch and we faked a creampie with real cream pie.

Second scene was supposed to be a DP with… ummm… Natasha, Antonio & Lex. Problem A: Natasha has been away from the biz for a while, and hasn’t had her ass violated in weeks. Problem B: Lex has only done one other DP, is having a really shitty day for personal reason, and there’s simply no wood in his forest. Kylie tries fluffing him (oh, the benefits of female directors), and that works until she leaves, then linguni again.

Now, not to burst your bubble or anything, but with one exception, every male performer I have worked with frequently has had an off day or two. It happens. Guys are (all indicators to the contrary) human, and any one of a thousand things can throw up that neural roadblock between your brain and your cock that closes down traffic completely. Unfortunately, once you think you’re in trouble, you are, and it’s all over.

Kylie has used Lex a dozen times, and I’ve used him several myself. He’s a solid performer who had a lousy afternoon. No big deal. Except you can’t really stick a boy/girl scene in a DP movie. Our solution was to grab one of the guys from the third scene, who were already on deck (and had been for a few hours cuz everything was taking so fucking long), stick him in the scene, and have Antonio do two back-to-back, which he assured us was no problem.


For her part, Natasha wasn’t ecstatic with this plan, but was willing to do whatever it took to get the scene. The guy Natasha preferred to work with wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being rushed (I dunno if it was a Viagra thing, or if he didn’t like Antonio, or just didn’t have his game face on yet or whatthefuck).

So… we shot her and Antonio for the squirting movie.


Natasha doesn’t squirt. Kylie fixed that problem with a douche filled with water which we would sqeeze into Natasha’s snatch during the anal so she could squirt while getting buttfucked.


Wasn’t happening. Her asshole was still on vacation, and it just wasn’t about to go back to work yet. And Antonio ain’t the smallest guy on the planet (fuckin’ guy is a gorgeous Euro all the girls get slobber-crotched over with a great smile, a ripped physique, and a huge schwantz that seems impervious to limpness… I hate this cocksucker). So no anal, either. But she sure squirts up a storm, boy!

For what it’s worth, the third scene — another DP — went off pretty much without a hitch. Although by that point, most of the crew seemed to have mentally punched out for the day, So Kylie & I got to do everything by ourselves until Ren Savant came out from editing and realized no one was actually working, so he came up to play lube jockey and wrangle my cable and all that helpful shit.

Still, the scene went great.

I am fearful of what we might encounter tomorrow. If terrorists decide to spray Anthrax from drone aircraft over the West Valley, I won’t be a bit surprised.

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