Official Website

Wednesday, December 22, 2010


So I went to the Office Depot to replace our Canon copier and they didn't have one. The cute sales guy talked me into getting a Hewlett Packard "all-in-one" even though I had no use for a scanner or fax. It's a lovely little machine, but not what I need. So, as I should have done in the first place, I went on line and got what I wanted delivered in a smart two days in spite of holiday traffic. 
Sooooo. If anyone in the Los Angeles area wants a practically new copier etc. email and we'll figure out how to get it to you. I'd like to see it get a good home.

Speaking of good homes - Mr. Welsh has notified me that his mourning period for our dear departed cat, Bubba, is at an end and he is ready to audition a replacement. If anyone has a spare cat, preferably with all the shots and stuff in place, let us know. 
The rain continues. The garden if loving every minute of it.

Saturday, December 11, 2010


First the good news.
My buddy and fellow Gypsy Emeritus, Miriam Birch has made it to the finals in the Great Cabaret Idol contest!

We'll be in the house cheering her on Sunday night. Looks like it may already be a sold-out house, but you can go to
Once there, "like" the page, and get updates on show times, dates and guest judges for the week.
If you message James on, give (1) your name (2) how many tickets you would like and (3) that you are coming to support Miriam Birch.

Now the not so good news.

John Leslie Passed Away Monday, December 6, 2010

John was a major adult film actor appearing in close to  300 films and one of the first adult film actors who made a successful transition to director. John unexpectedly died at home of an apparent heart attack. Friends were not aware of health issues and remarked he had reported to work shortly before his death.

John was also known for his skill as a blues musician, cook and artist. John was a youthful 65.

I loved those guys - as did my best bud, Howie aka Richard Pacheko. Here's what he had to say.

John Leslie - Extra Crispy
Just returned from the crematorium where I stood next to John's wife, his best friend Joey, and his dog Holmes as we all held each other up, said good-bye and then watched as they loaded his shell into a very big oven.  It kinda looked like an industrial, working-class, MRI machine.  Never saw one of those ovens before.  Don't really care if I never see another one again.

On the way back across the Bay, I listen to the John Leslie Blues Band on a CD. It's very comforting to hear John's voice again.  I will have to get used to the idea that there will be no more new conversations.

John will be missed by family, friends and fans.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Terri Childress, a delightful lady from Virginia, requested a review copy of my book, The Devil Made Me Do It. Of course I sent her one. Here's her response:

Hello Georgie!
I've posted my review for the book:
I'm 'alphalover'
I'm 'Stormie'

Thanks again for sending me an autographed copy. I'm still tickled
pink over it. Have a wonderful weekend,


Had a lovely visit with my book doctor, David Sterry!
Got to meet his adorable, talented, wife Arielle (nee Eckstut), mother of the amazing Olive. 

We had lunch at the cafe.
Then explored the garden.

Olive entertained us with pithy observations
and wonderful stories. Yes, she comes by her lively literary skills honestly, of course, but I'm always amazed at how much they know when they still look like such recent arrivals.

Thanks much for fitting us on your packed dance card.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

They grow up so fast...

When I did a steamy scene with Howie Gordon for a film called The Dancers back in the dim dark dawn of time, his lovely wife was right there on the set, holding their infant son in her arms. It was the best experience I ever had on a set during my long and checkered career. 
Here's Howie - then known as Richard Pacheco - and me at the Adult Film Awards ceremony that year. 

I think we won something.

Now - that infant is all grown up
 and presenting a unique take on the porn world that I have every intention of seeing when he brings it to Santa Monica in the spring. 

Meanwhile - if you're in the San Francisco area - check it out. 

Tickets and further information.
I just know it's going to be a very moving performance.
As we say in the Biz of Show, Dear Bobby, please know I wish you a warm hand on your opening. 

The review: 
In Debbie Does My Dad performance artist Bobby Gordon uses spoken word theater to tell the bawdy and beautiful story of his experiences growing up as the son of a former adult film star.
Gordon’s father, Howie Gordon (Stage Name Richard Pacheco) won Playgirl Man-of-the-Year Honors in 1979 and had a Hall of Fame X-Rated acting career appearing in over a 100 features.
Having spent his childhood “in the shadow of his dad’s erection” Bobby Gordon dives into his experiences dealing with overly excited friends, meeting (or really failing to meet) unreasonably high expectations from female classmates in school, his own sexual development, confronting and rebelling against his father, and
ultimately working to redefine manhood for himself.
       Nothing is what you’d expect in this show where the words “sensitive” and “male porn star” go together as easily as “masturbation” and “inevitably getting walked in on by your parents.” Gordon offers an intimate window into his journey
to come to grips his father’s former career, and create a world where a man can be an emotional and a sexual being; a world where fucking and feelings can co-exist.

    "Bobby Gordon plunges into the creative rhythms, images and sounds of spoken word poetry with courage, honesty and sensual delight to talk about sex, porn and fathering. This is a must see show." – Warren Nebe, Director of Drama For Life

Friday, November 12, 2010


"I LOVE that HAT!" said I to my friend Margie - aka Big Mean Lady of Lopez Land.
"Did you knit it?" 
"I did," she replied. "OMG, you've got to give me the pattern!"
Now, I did used to knit - a lot - mostly leg warmers and mostly during the five minute breaks every hour that are required by Actors' Equity dance chorus contracts. But that was several lifetimes ago. Still, I thought this looked like something I might be able to handle. If I had a good, easy to read pattern. Right?
So - a week or so later, I get an unexpected package in the mail. When I open it, sitting upon an inflated red balloon is THE HAT! Never mind sending me the pattern, the lady made me a hat! Just like hers! She says she will send me the pattern anyway - when she has time to write it out. It was easier to knit the hat? I guess so.

What a Big Mean Lady

How lucky am I? 

Sunday, October 31, 2010


So this is Halloween. Sunday, October 31st. Not last night, Saturday. Tell that to the parents of the wee ghosties and goblins and the long-legged beasties that go bump in the night (most notably at the many parties along our block). 
Halloween should be on the last Saturday of October – like Thanksgiving is always on a Thursday – last or next to last depending on geography. But Halloween, like Christmas, being based on the Christian calendar, not the public school system, is variable. I say Christmas and All Saint’s Day should both be on Sunday.
So Halloween eve – last night – Elen, my pal going all the way back to pre Woodstock days – made a birthday party for our mutual friend Laura featuring tandoori chickens with all the proper Moroccan trimmings and rituals and to hell with Halloween. 
Here's pal Elen at Woodstock.
She can be seen at 1:34 into this clip, on the right screen.
See, like this.

Well, yeah. We have a pot of pennies by the door to bribe any goblins that make it up out hill tonight, but my days of baking and decorating cupcakes for the little beasties are long over. Let them buy their own cavity creators. Bah humbug. OK. Make that Boo humbug.

Friday, October 22, 2010

Wrong Wrong Wrong

I got it all wrong.
My appointment with the eye clinic last Wednesday wasn’t for the surgery, just for the tests (and tests and tests and tests) that precede it. 
The surgery will not be until December 14th.  But I’d like to thank artist Steve Lopez for sending me this encouragement.

And thank you to all the folks who emailed to wish me good luck on the surgery. You don’t have to do it again on December 14th. I’ll just keep them all and read them again with my one good eye.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Shirts 'n Mugs 'n Mousepads, Oh My!!!

Georgie's Store
OK all you faithful who have been nagging me for the past umpteen years - there are finally Georgina Spelvin "keepsakes" available, thanks to enterprising entrepreneur, Steve Lopez. No, not the LA Times columnist. 

 This Steve Lopez is the patriarch of a talented family of artists. They were too shy to let me publish pictures of them or more information than this link to their web store and this
great logo - created by daughter, Michele.

And here I am. Personally signing all the mugs. Yep. Each and every damn one.

So mouse your way to local fame and be the first in your office to have a personally signed, Georgina Spelvin coffee mug and mouse pad. If you're lucky enough to work in a nice funky office, you could even wear the tee shirt to work one day and really stir up trouble. 

So what have I been doing that's so important it's kept me from keeping up with this blog? 
Recording the oral version of my memoir, The Devil Made Me Do It, that's what. 

Yes, indeedy, I rise at 4am every day and set up this amazing recording device that Sam Caldwell, the producer, sent me, and revisit the scenes of
my debauchery before the traffic noise becomes too obtrusive. Oh yes. I'm having a good time. I'm far too old to do anything I don't enjoy.

The imprint publishing my audiobook is iNetSynch at
iNetSynch is a division of ETI and produces professional audio and video podcasts as well as audio and e-books. The Full-Spectrum Publishing imprint and division of ETI  works in tandem with iNetSynch to publish traditional printed books. Sam Caldwell is the president of ETI, iNetSynch and Full-Spectrum publishing. He is also one of the most patient and supportive gentlemen it has ever been my pleasure to encounter. Well, Steve Lopez is not slouch, either. The Force is obviously with me.  

Other news: I learned that the reason I can't read the street signs until I'm damn near IN the intersection, is not because I need new glasses. I'm going in for an "eyeball lift" next week. Yep. Cataracts. Not surprising at my age, but damned inconvenient. I can handle the wrinkles in my face - but on my eyeballs? How rude. 

If you, dear reader, have had experience with this little visisitude of life, I'd love to learn more about it. Drop me a note:

Hope everyone is enjoying autumn as much as we are. I shall now go gather up the three feet of pine needles that have made their annual appearance over the garden. Anyone need any mulch?

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

 The Algonquin  it ain't, and I'm hardly Dorothy Parker, but the luncheons that have become a sort-of monthly event with our friends, published authors Jim Morris and Kenn Miller do put me in mind of that pinnacle of American literary levity. 
That's Jim at the head of the table. Kenn is to his left.
These veterans of various military conflicts have little reason to be amusing and entertaining about the world, but they are. I love their books. They recently introduced us to Steven Rothblatt, across the table from me. His film, Oh Baby, is currently in the festival circuit. The best single link for it may be this one, for when it screened at USC . Here's the trailer and here’s a cool link to photos from the premiere of the film (in Hollywood at the Renberg Theatre) and other pics related to the film:
I asked Steven how he came to make such a film. Here's what he said.
My spouse, John (author of Where The Sun Sets) says we've started a buzz in the neighborhood. Well, if they weren't already buzzing, it's hardly my fault.

Our coterie hasn't come up with solutions for ALL the world's problems, but it ain't for not trying. I'll not mention the wonderful neighborhood cafe where we meet by name because the last time I did that, you couldn't get in the place at lunchtime for two months.

Another recent meeting of note: 
There was a reunion of the publications department of the L.A. Country Medical Association Sunday, September 5th, at the home of Howard Bender: former editor of the in-house organ, LACMA Physician magazine.
Back row from left, Randy Lander, Andrea David, our host, Howard Bender and Mike Villaire; in front on my left is Summer West.

Howard went on to greater executive duties elsewhere. His successors were Summer West and Mike Villaire. Andrea David was the advertising manager. She and I have, at least, lunched occasionally through the years. I hadn’t seen any of the others since I left the place twenty years ago. Andrea’s job fell into my lab when she left for greener pastures. (I had been secretary for the department up to that point.)

Andrea and Randy. Randy was our department secretary for a while - in between numerous other positions at the association.

The magazine’s printing company asked us if we would please, please, please send them our copy digitally! They even furnished the computer for us to do so. As department secretary, I got the job of jockeying the infernal machine. That was in '82. You'd think by now I'd have figured out how to use the damn things
Our host put in his years putting out the magazine, but his heart was always in producing game shows, so at this party, he directed us to form two teams and try to answer questions he had prepared about our years together. He even furnished little punch bells to ring in on.
Well, it's official. My memory is shot to hell. I don't think I answered a single damn question.  Oh yeah, I did get one about me, but I can’t remember what it was.
Summer's husband and son were the only guests other than yours truly to take advantage of the gorgeous pool, but everyone had a glorious time anyway.Of course, nobody got a picture of me doing my famous swan. Oh well.

Thank you, Elissa (Mrs. Bender), for the great spread. And thank you, number one son, Fletcher, for the great grilling. 

Daughter, Amanda, was away – I think at school – so I’ve yet to meet her.
Thank goodness Summer West (mother of the swimmer) had a good camera and the skills to provide these pictures. Many thanks.

PS.  Would the person who brought this lovely plant to our Fourth of July party please e-mail and confess.
ALSO – we found a stack of pristine posters for The Devil in Miss Jones on a shelf in the bedroom recently. I vaguely remember someone handing them to me at the party and my stashing them on the shelf – but I have no idea who it was, nor can I remember if I was supposed to sign and return them, or what. If anyone has any information about this matter, please HELP.

Georgie and John

Wednesday, September 1, 2010


Wednesday, September 1st, 2010 - The DEADLINE for completion of Goin' Down in Flames - the ongoing adventures of Georgina Spelvin.

I haven't even started.

Oh there are bits and pieces floating around all over my laptop like the wispy hairs too short to be captured in my top-knot that blow in my face and drive me nuts. Will it ever get scrapped together into some sort of comprehensive whole? Will Manny Ramerez... oh never mind.

Well, damnit, I'm RETIRED.
I don't know what I do all day, but it takes me all day to do it. Yes, we spend the morning lazing about with the papers and our rspective caffine hits: coffee for John - for me, tea. Then it's hi-ho, off to the gym, a fortuitous five minutes away. Welll, John goes to the gym. I go to the spa. He cycles energetically to nowhere while I perform my exotic regenerative routine.

To wit: I baste my body in Jergin's lotion and place it in a 110 degree sauna for 10 to 15 minutes, during which time I stretch it, wiggle it, and rub it where it hurts - which is almost everywhere, of course. Not bad hurt. Just the 74 years of service general complaints. Nicely sweated, I proceed to the ballet barre, looking as if I've already done some hard stuff. Whilst my hubbylover John stretches vigerously (an oxymoron - but more of that later) and then does a hundred - count them - hundred scruntchies, I hang out at the barre.

Literally. I let it hangas loose as I can and jiggle it in various positions. This I alternate with posturings that pull it all as far apart as possible in lines as long and graceful as I can produce. Yes, Ballet. Though I'd never a prayer of getting anywhere near the positions demanded for proficiency, just trying for them has kept it all where it should be and in pretty much the proportions I still dream of. Not bad for home brew.

So, after the gym, it's time for lunch. I try not to make lunch plans for more than once or twice a week, but I also like schmoozing with my buds. Monday's I take my pal, Joyce, to lunch. She will be 86 Tuesday, September 7th, so we'll do lunch that day instead of Monday next week. What an amazing woman. She was the "orchestra" for the improve company, War Babies. John was a founding member. Here's a link to a U-toob of them. You can see Joyce - making it up as they go just like the actors. Instant opera!

She can still play just about any song you might like to sing, but she can't tell you what day it is. What the hell. She doesn't need to know what day it is. I tell her, "Honey, these are the fuckit years!"

Days I don't have to meet someone for lunch, I have a crisp, cold pear sliced into thin pieces with little matching slices of Madrigal (Unborn Swiss) cheese that I can nibble with my left hand while my right hand works corssword and soduku puzzles. Ah, heaven.
Now, here I have the afternoon and early evening to write - one would think. So I open up Dilbert the Dell - and well, first I have to check the email - right? Right.Ne xt thing I know, it's time for dinner. John cooks Monday through Friday - as he did when I had my day job. I do weekends, using up the leftovers from all the deliciaous meanls he's made all week. His Italian half loves to cook. The Irish half is happy I like washing dishes.

Cash Cab is in the backgroud as I write. Jeopardy will accompany John's kitchen expoits, Wheel of Fortune will entertain us through dinner. Antique Road Show, or Funniest Home Videos will waft into the kitchen as I do the clean up. Then it's Animal Kingdom or - Sundays - From the Top at Carnegie Hall - my favorite show. That's pretty much our TV schedule except during baseball season.

I reserve an hour or two for reading a real book in the comfort of my bed beforeI dive into the Disneyland of my subconscious.
Now, is that not the most exciting life you've ever heard of or WHAT? But that's why Goin' Down in Flames seems to be going down in flames.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Good Grief! My memoir, The Devil Made Me Do It, is in a PUBLIC LIBRARY.

Be Still My Heart

Bill Cronauer of Wilkes Barre, PA emailed me a request for a signed copy.

He says he enjoyed the copy he bought at Amazon so much that he donated it to the Library where he works.

Now wants a signed copy for his very own.

What a glorious library: How can such institutions be in such danger of disappearing? That prospect frightens me even more than the threatened demise of the US Postal Service.

Here's a link to Bill's domain -  the reference department:

Here's the spot for movies, theater, books, etc. that are connected (dialogue, setting, etc)  to Wilkes-Barre, PA or Scranton, PA 

Here is Bills personal blog:

AND AND AND...Another bibliophile, VICTOR OLLIVER, has posted a review:
His entry was last Wednesday, so you have to scroll down past his review of Wyn Ellis' Marquess of Bath Lord of Love review - No. don't scroll past it. Read it. I've just ordered the book. It looks yummy.

I guess it's official. I'm a published author. .
Now I really DO have to get to work on Goin' Down in Flames - the book that answers all the questions The Devil Made Me Do It raised. I need a few more hours in each day.

Thanks to blogger who pointed out that my comments wasn't working right. I think it is now, so feel free to express yourself.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Do not pass go, do not collect $200 GO IMMEDIATELY TO...

"Bad" Brad Berkwitt's Ringside read one of the best damn interviews I've ever done, thanks to his great questions..

Here he is. He's the one on the right. The lovely lady with him is Valerie, who, for his 41st birthday last year,
took him to their favorite Italinan Restaurant, Extra Virgin. Now there's a great name for an Italian restaurant if I've ever heard one.

I hope every boxing fan in the world reads it and continues to enjoy the posts of this remarkable gentleman.

I confess, I wasn't that into boxing until I met this man. I don't even like to watch chess matches, I'm so averse to conflict.

But I've gained a new respect for the "art" and find the milieu fascinating. Thanks "Bad" Brad.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Flash - new stuff about Police Academy

Flash: Cindi Loftus just posted new stuff about me and the Police Academy flicks on her site. Take a look here.

New Texture event in Echo Park

Wyatt Doyle is a veritable force of nature.
He was responsible for getting set up. He also introduced me to self-publishing service where my book is printed.
This all happened before New Texture was completely in place, so although my book is really a New Texture book, it doesn't say so in the text - as it should.

Thank you Allison Grace for taking our picture. And thank you, stranger who then took this one of us with Allison. These were taken in front of the Echo venue.

I asked my mentor and friend, Wyatt, to tell me about New Texture.

From Wyatt:
About New Texture: We're a do-it-yourself artists' collective turned publisher, proudly independent and flying by the seat of our pants. (Our motto: "Crude, But Effective").

The evening you and John joined us for was called NEW TEXTURE: WORDS and MUSIC, the venue was The Echo in Echo Park, and it was part of the "New Texture Nights" reading tour to promote our first three book releases.

The first 3 books from New Texture are

BLACK CRACKER by Josh Alan Friedman
STOP REQUESTED by Wyatt Doyle & Stanley J. Zappa

All three books are available (signed or unsigned) via or at

John lead off the evening with a reading of his delightful (if I do say it) childrens' book, Where The Sun Sets.
This is a story about the adventures of Elephant Gerald, Larry the Boa, and Thelonius Monkey - three friends who live in a jungle that isn't there any more. The link on the title takes you to the Lulu site which is slower than molasses in January, but you CAN preview the entire book there, if you've the patience.

Next up, Josh Alan Friedman tore the hide off his guitar with some GREAT songs of his skillfull composition. I just finished reading his book, Black Cracker. Wow, whew, and Holy Sh_t. It's the story of his elementary school years as the only white student in an otherwise all black school in Glen Cove, Long Island in the early 60s. It's a powerful, yet hugely entertaining, read. I've ordered copies of all his other books. I hope they get here soon. I've finished Wyatt's book, Stop Requested (also a terrific read - see my review on Amazon) and if I run out of book, I go into withdrawal: runny nose, shakes, nausea - not a pretty picture.

Here, however, is a very pretty picture.

Sandee Curry, the professional copy editor who excised the warts from my book, and probably all the others presented that night, read some of her own work. I figured she was probably an excellent writer as well as a great editor, but I was totally blown away by not only her prose, but her presence. I know her as a very quiet, almost shy, lady. But when the lights are on and the mike is hot - so is she!

The evening's roster for NEW TEXTURE: WORDS & MUSIC follows.

John Welsh
Wyatt Doyle
Josh Alan Friedman
Chris D.
Rev. Raymond Branch
Sandee Curry
Paul Silva
Donna Lethal
Matt Kennedy
Georgina Spelvin

Important links!

New Texture (main website):

New Texture's Blog:

Sandee Curry website:

Josh Alan's main website:

Josh Alan's music:

Paul Silva (Paul got the sound, lights, slides, and films to work!) did the piece about Roscoe Lee Browne with

film clip:

Reverend Branch: (includes video clips of his music, including a wonderful blues/gospel improv with Josh Alan!)


Donna Lethal

Matt Kennedy:

As you see, there was an extensive roster of good writers and musicians and I was forced to ask Wyatt to let me jump ahead of the line. I've tried to hide it, but the truth is, I'M GETTING OLD. I just cannot sit upright in a regular person's chair more than a half-hour or so without serious pain. I'm afraid I've indulged my lazy ass far too long playing couch zucchini with laptop or book.
I read a couple of short excerpts from my book, The Devil Made Me Do It, then pleaded with John, who was selling and signing copies of his book and having a really good time, to take me home.
He did. What a guy.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Yeah. I know. Been a while.

More blasts from the past. Man, if you want to hear from folks you haven't seen in donkey years, publish a book. 

May I introduce a remarkable artist who directed, produced, probably wrote, one of the most unusual films of my checkered career. 

Ed Seeman, aka Edwardo Cemano, was an artist - well, all his life, of course - but I mean, like, you know, ESTABLISHED, before he ventured into cine de porn. I didn't know that. I just did the gig - 

 and it was a fun day of being a pussy cat, as opposed to being just another pussy.

So now I'm back in touch with Ed, Edwardo. He sent me this recent photo. Lookin' good, Ed.He has a jillion sites but start here and it will lead you to the rest;

Another artist, whose paintings of the porn pantheon are legendary is now featured on one of my favorite sites - LADIEZNITE
Meet the amazing Denise LaFrance. She, too, has many sites. Google her.

Sorry I've neglected the blog. Every time I open my little laptop with a view to updated it, by the time I get through my email, it's time to fix supper, NO. Don't stop the email. YES. I'm addicted - and plan to stay that way.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Blast from the Past

Lovely stroke from one of the all-time greats. What a lucky girl I am. I invite you to view Richard Pacheco's comments on Ladiez Night.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Opera as it should be

Rene Temple of The Highwaymen vocal group and player, with my farbetterhalf, John, in the ground-breaking improve group, War Babies, just sent me a link to a video capture of one of their more stellar moments. Here's the group, from left top row, Rene, John, Marsha Meyers, Jed Mills: bottom row from left; Archie Hahn, Maryedith Burrell, Susan Krebs, and Karen Caye (Mrs. Temple.)
Unfortunately, not in this photo, but in the video, is Peter Reigert.

Seeing John in this performance sealed my fate. He had bedazzled me with his talents in The Hostage (a Brendan Behan play wherein we met) but after seeing this, I was toast. For a look at a totally improvised musical marvel click here.

NOW - for all of you who keep waiting for something about SEX in this blog, here's a wonderfully informative clip on female orgasm.
(So there.)

Monday, April 19, 2010

Howie Gordon just sent me this pic.

I emailed him back:
"Oh my stars and garters! When and where was this taken?
Howie Gordon wrote: 

"It came from backstage at the AFAA Erotic Awards when we both got
Best Supporting for THE DANCERS...I would guess 1982 or '83. 

I do believe that was my last appearance at the annual "company picnic," which is how I thought of the awards festivals.

Boy. Talk about the glory years. Around then, I think everyone in the "other" movie industry thought we were on our way to equal footing with the "real" one.

Well, ha ha and ha.

Oh sure, there have been stellar "cross-over" incidents, but let's face it, they are two very different worlds. I can only think, from my lofty position as most senior surviving retired actor of the latter, that there is a good reason for this. My good friend until his passing, the director and producer of sex films, Henri Pachard, used to say at any and every opportunity, "The trouble with you kids is, you don't think sex is dirty. I'm trying to put the dirty back in it."

He felt, probably rightly so, that I was one of the guilty ones. Howie (aka Richard Pacheco) was another. Howie's beautiful and amazing wife, Carly, who was on the set when he and I did our "Shakespearean" sex scene
(which, incidentally, Howie wrote) in Dancers, concurs. 

As young hippies, we all wanted to build a better world. We still do. Unfettered presentation of the realities of life, including sex, was one of our goals. Sex, segregated from reality and there for it's own sake only, was not.

Even though both of us have settled into monogamous marriages, finding the greatest satisfaction therein, our dedication to the demise of hypocrisy has not wavered. I can't wait for HIS book to come out. Soon, I hope.

Thanks for the memories, Howie.  

Tuesday, April 13, 2010


I have this thing about my tits.
I just don't like having them squeezed hard enough to hurt.
I am NOT into pain.
For those who like it, fine. Do your thing. Just don't invite me.

For the last thirty years, I have "just said no" whenever my wonderful, trusted friend and physician, Doctor Thom has gently insisted I get a mammogram. Then last week, I felt just the slightest twinge of a hurtyness in the right puppy. Well, I'm very much a do-it-yourself, Campho-Phenique and Epsom Salts sort of gal, but I'm not entirely stupid. Soooo, I call and let them schedule me for the procedure. Now if ever there were a word to make my flesh crawl, that's it. "Procedure" just sounds like something from an S&M scenario to me and here's the S&M film I never want to see, much less live through again. Mamory Mangler.

Place tit in vice, close vice until tit is squeezed into an IHOP special - sans the syrup. Fainting is not an option, as slumping will only increase the pain. Hold breath (as if you could breath through the pain) until technician, who has gone to another county to avoid the radiation, returns to pull out one plate and stick in another. Rinse, repeat, and so forth. Then you get to do the other tit!

Now, I admit, I have done some fairly kinky things in my checkered past, both as as a porn actress and, prior to those heady days, on numerous casting couches. 

But I have never, ever, ever in my whole entire life, experienced pain of this magnitude. 

Not even the time I tried to keep my sailboat
from hitting the dock by sticking my hand down between it and the pilings. 

I was trying to protect the beautiful brightwork I had just spent two months applying. 

OK. That was stupid, but my own doing. 

The mamogram monster looms as an inevitable torture that women are expected to endure periodically, just because they're women. Like childbirth, I suppose. Could cancer hurt any worse? I may live to find out, because, I ain't getting these babies caught in that kind of wringer ever again, no how, no way, uh uh.

End of rant. Feel free to tell me how wrong I am. Better yet, feel free to invent a way to screen for breast cancer without a PROCEDURE that simply can NOT be good for that sensitive tissue.

Hee hee - in response to this rant, I just received:

Saturday, April 10, 2010

The challenges of an actor's wife

This is Sara Wells - the talented actress who portrayed Marilyn Monroe in the staged reading of "Norma Jean and Johnny" that my darling hubby did recently.

He is now busy re-growing his mustache just in case they get to do it again.

I must be out of my mind, right?