as the porn turns (a NSFW story)...
Once upon a time, I was a boy without a job. I had just graduated from l'university and I was driving across the country with a Uhaul, the Taurus and a dream. A dream to one day become a successful Hollywoodian. "You need connections, dude," said my friend who owned a bong for every day of the week. "If you meet Jennifer Aniston, will you tell her I said hi, and that, like, omg I love her hair," said random sorority girl. So I pulled out my Rolodex, which in reality was a bunch of post-it's stuck together, and looked at my biggest connection out here in Lost Angeles: my godfather.
My godfather isn't a big-time Hollywood agent. He's not executive producer of "The View." He doesn't even know Jennifer Aniston. Nope. My godfather is a "mover and a shaker" in the biz that makes many a young high school male happy: PORNO.
What does this mean in the overall scream of things? Nothing, really. My mother would never allow me to work in the porno biz. The only big perk to having a godfather in the porn industry (think Burt Reynolds in "Boogie Nights) is that every year, from when I was 17 on, I came out to Las Vegas for the annual Adult Entertainment Expo. This was about as controversial as I got (see: no acting roles) due to the fact that one entire side of my family is devoutly Southern baptist (see: Jesus) and thought I was just coming out to "hang." (shhh...)
Even though I didn't attend this year, I will always remember that first year (in which I was actually under the legal age of 18 to enter). Instead of having to rub elbows with the multitude of scary, bald, 40-year-olds who PAY to attend the event, I got in free and my godfather let me hang in what they call the "VIP area." A few things happened that none of my pimply-faced friends back at home would have believed when I recounted them in hushed tones at my return. Luckily, I had a camera. They include:
- I went to a Playboy party at a waterpark. On the happiness scale, imagine mass genocide. Now imagine the total opposite of that. This is where I first met Jenna Jameson. On the Lazy River, no less.
- I met Ron Jeremy. And he's nastier in person. But hilariously nasty.
- I drank Diet Cokes with Nina Hartley. I think at one point she started telling me about her kids but I blacked that all out.
- I met Scotty Schwartz. He's the guy that stuck his tongue to the pole in "Christmas Story." He had just made his first adult film. But I didn't care. I wanted to talk about leg lamps, Red Ryder and Grover Gill!!
Sooo...the moral of this story? Porn people are people too. They put on their shoes (when they wear them) one foot at a time, just like us. So if you see them on the street, don't avert your eyes. Instead, stare at them. They like that. And hug them like a Teletubby. That's what I did. And I liked it. The end.