Here's your place to come talk about sex and love whenever you feel like it.
Good morning! Or whatever the hell time it is. I don't even know because with the time change, Olivia and I were up for a solid 24 hours yesterday drinking in the weirdest environment in which I have personally ever set foot. I mean Vegas, not the porn convention. This place is nuts!
Then, last night, we were awoken around 4 am by a screaming match happening somewhere in the general vicinity of the hallway. It went on for about 30 minutes before I called the front desk, just like somebody's grandma! Screaming fights in the middle oft the night actually kind of remind me of home, but I was worried about the girl I heard crying at one point.
I'm tired, is what I'm trying to say. And my contacts are currently trying to evacuate my eyes. But I am still writing this recap for you, because I care so much.
You guys, there are a lot of women here with very nice bodies.
I say this because it's the first thing we noticed upon arriving (other than Ron Jeremy) were the women's bodies. Every time you turn around you see another one that is taut, surgically enhanced and on display.
"I think some of these women work in the adult film industry," I whispered to Olivia, who I think got tired of this style of humor pretty quickly as I continued to use it throughout the day. "I think she might act in pornographic films," I said as we passed a woman with a Maxi Mounds-style overfilled balloon boob job. She rolled her eyes, because she is 23 and much cooler than me.
It is a bit daunting to be surrounded by so much beautiful lady flesh, but I am trying to tell myself that these women spend a lot more time and money on their appearances than I do, and that it's part of their jobs to look a certain way, just like it is part of my job to tell you intimate things about my vagina. It's mostly just hard to look away. I keep finding myself ogling like a creeper.
The extreme gender performance happening here make it feels a little bit like being in the presence of magic. The actresses are gender magicians, as proficient in the art of illlusion as any drag queen. It's a weird experience for me not being the most agressively female one in the room. Even in my heels and lipstick, I'm basically a PE Teacher here.
The expo itself is extremely overwhelming. There's the novelty expo, which is where the actresses meet and greet the fans, signing their pictures and DVDs and taking photos with the men who paid big bucks to rub elbows with porn stars. I am judging them a little, but trying not to, because in my experience the stereotype of porn consumers or men who hire any kind of sex worker as sad, creepy and unattractive is a false one.
But some of these guys could break your heart. At one point a very old man in a flannel shirt and ill-fitting jeans who was very unsteady on his feet bumped into Olivia and when he uttered the meekest "Sorry," I about burst into tears right there.
There are a lot of bed and couch set-ups where women loll around touching themselves like it's always been their biggest fantasy to be snapped at by a whole mob of professional and amaetur photographers. Olivia says these male photographer are not being very nice to her, big surprise. I think today we'll try to spend more time on that side -- is there anything you want us to ask the girls, about sex, beauty, porn, whatever?
The real Wonderland for me is the trade show, which showcases the best and newest sex toys and novelty products on or about to be on the market. I am in awe of this wall of sex toys!
Seriously, there are so many awesome, innovative and adorable toys that I am looking forward to reviewing for you guys. Like these Shower-X naked lady shower curtains:
Or these Vibrating pleasure pets! The girl working this booth couldn't stop cooing over the little feet on the bear.
Honey bear lube!
In between breaking up fights, I was having nightmares all night that Jane basically hired a new Managing Editor and didn't tell me until the day she brought my replacement in. But I know they were probably really inspired by laying eyes on these "Teddy Babes" stuffed sex dolls. Scary!
In the evening, we went to a party hosted by queer porn icon Courtney Trouble (NSFW link), where snippets of cocktail party conversation included things like:
"I refuse to do jobs where I have to eat ... or like "f*$k my folds...I won't do that."
I mean, I was totally covered in pee -- it was in my mouth, on my face, in my hair -- and we couldn't even use it because of the lawyers."
"Look, I don't like it, but I sell more videos if I call myself a shemale."
Olivia at one point ended up holding lights during a mid-party photo shoot. There were cookies covered in pink frosting and lots of Diet Coke. Basically, it was the best party I've ever been to.
When we got back to the hotel, it became evident that the local men were very interested in AVN -- there were approximately 8 million dudes circling the bar gawking at the 5-ish porn stars who hadn't been scared off by the rubber-necking.
A guy stopped and told me I was beautiful and then immediately moved on, which Olivia and I thought was a classy move. Say your piece and move along, fellas. It's hot! Of course, he later ensared me by the waist and told me not to be scared of his "technique," but in the moment: classy.
Except for this isolated incident, however, I have to say the strangest part of being here is suddenly receiving no sexual attention at all. I mean, as women, we're usually continually bombarded with it. Being free of that should be a relief, but it's actually a little depressing. If you've ever been at a bar with a girl wearing a schoolgirl skirt or kissing another girl, imagine that feeling, then multiply it by 10,000. Just having breasts is not enough around here.
At one point, Olivia grabbed at her cropped T-shirt and skintight American Apparel leggings and groaned, "I might as well be wearing a MUUMUU!" I was in heels (3 inches, so basically baby booties) and a dress, an outfit in which I would normally feel quite sexy, but I honestly felt like I was wearing a burqa or something really unhot like a full-body diaper. If you're not obviously a porn star, you're pretty much sexually invisible.
My first impulse was to come back to the room and craft a fishnet bodysuit out of the hotel linens or something. Is this why some women freak out so hardcore as they age? I'm going to try to just lean into this thing and enjoy moving through life essentially unharassed for the next two days. But it's totally possible I may abandon all dignity, so stay tuned.
Tonight: Belladonna! Chippendales!