5 slut shaming habits you should stop doing immediately

slut shaming

Slut shaming happens every single day. I’d even wager a bet that you have slut shamed in the past but I’m willing to hope you didn’t do it intentionally. I’ll address intentional slut shaming as well (you might take a moment to check and see if your panties are flame retardant).

What is slut shaming

If you ask ten people, you’re likely to get at least nine different answers. For simplicity’s sake, we’re going to use the following definition, based on the original definition found at dictionary.com

To publicly humiliate or shame a person for engaging in behavior judged to be promiscuous or sexually provocative.

Five slut shaming habits to be aware of

Keep in mind that you may not be doing this intentionally. I’ve become more aware of how I speak to people over the last few years because I realized I was inadvertently shaming people with my actions and my verbiage. And if I can learn to fix how I say things, I’m sure you can as well.

  1. ‘You’re so fuckin gay.’ Slut shaming someone’s sexuality
  2. ‘You aren’t really gay if you’re fucking guys for pay.’ Slut shaming someone’s career choices
  3. ‘You’re a whore!’ (said maliciously) Do i even need to point out what kind of shaming this is
  4. Harassing the fans of a star you don’t watch/Harassing the star themselves
  5. Hello libel, my old friend

Obvious versus invisible shaming (fire retardant required)

Invisible shaming

Most people go through their lives without realizing they are doing something that hurts someone else. This is because most people aren’t really malicious. And if you point out to them they are doing something to hurt another individual, they will typically change their behaviour. Or at least, we’ll put a damn good effort into it. If you recognize any of the phrases from above, or have participated in any behaviours listed above, now you know and you can take steps to avoid it in the future.

Obvious shaming

Oh for you, there’s a special place in my heart. The people who go out of their way to intentionally shame someone; the ones who use it like a weapon on social media. The people who know what they are saying and doing is disrespectful, shameful, and rude but just don’t care. This can be anything from stealing porn to open, malicious attacks against stars.

Recently, I had four people that I consider to be good friends who were attacked by trolls looking to just make them feel bad about themselves. They weren’t contributing to an ongoing conversation, they simply barged into someone else’s thread and insulted, attacked, and belittled these individuals. Why? Because they could. Because social media gives people a voice; one that can be used for good or for harm.

Support Not Shame

Whether you enjoy gay porn, straight porn, no porn, or all the porn. Whether you know a star or just follow them on social media. If you have a friend who insults people and shames them. SAY SOMETHING! Tell the person what they are doing is wrong. You don’t even have to like porn! These shaming techniques can be used against anyone (myself included!) and it’s each of our responsibilities to make sure we don’t tolerate it.





The Dirty Guide to Depression

Depression is real. According to a 2017 study by the World Health Organization, depression affects more than three hundred million people across the globe. That’s close to eleven percent of the population. Think about that. You might think eleven percent is a pretty low number of people but when you look at the math, it’s a little bit terrifying. Then factor in that depression is most prevalent in the fifteen to twenty-nine year old range. Depression is a very real and very terrifying disease. I know. I have it.

Depression versus feeling blue

People who don’t have depression don’t understand how it works. Sometimes, in an effort to be helpful, someone will suggest we “smile more” or “get out more”. Other times, when depression has put you into a place where you have to just sleep it off, they may tell you to just get up and move. They mean well. These are your friends and family. They simply don’t understand that what they are suggesting is great for when you’re having a down in the dumps kind of a day (and believe me, those of us who suffer from depression also get those blue kind of days) but don’t have any bearing on the overall disease. Don’t bite their heads off. Simply ask them to research the type of depression  you’ve been diagnosed with.

What? There’s more than one kind of depression?

Yep. Aren’t you glad you stopped by so I could tell you all about all the different strains of depression out there in the world? I know you are. It’s okay, you don’t have to vocalize. You can just smile and know I get it.

Mild depression

When you feel like you’re down in the dumps for more than a handful of days, you may be suffering from mild depression. Irritability, anxiety, and a feeling of just “blah” can all be signs of mild depression. On the upside, this type of depression is most easily solved by changing some of your habits. You can try lifestyle changes, such as getting up to exercise or doing something creative, such as writing a blog. No one expects one lap around the pond will change your outlook but maybe if you walk the pond every day for a week, you might notice a change in your mental state. If not, you may want to consider speaking with someone.

Moderate depression

This one is where it’s noticeable to friends and family. You may have troubles with productivity, whether at work or at home. Your brain may start bashing your self-esteem and you may start to believe you’re worthless. Increased sensitivity to commentary can lead to irrational bursts of anger. You may consider going to see someone about perhaps trying some medications, such as SSRIs. You may have some success with seeing a therapist in addition to medication and remember that your medication might be a temporary thing. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.

Major/Chronic depression

Welcome to my world. This is the granddaddy of them all. This is the depression that takes the lives of eight hundred thousand people annually. This is the disease that causes people to feel like they are totally worthless. This is the level that therapy is a must and medication can significantly help (and you too can enjoy the medication merry-go-round). Those of us in this category will stab you if you suggest we just need to “get out more”.

Wait. Is that considered premeditation? Oh, it is?

Okay. Those of us in this category would deeply appreciate if you would stop offering the simplest of solutions because we’ve already tried it. Several times, in some cases. We’re also the group that uses sarcasm and humour to deflect people away from realising exactly how screwed up we feel. We’re going to have good days and we’re going to have bad days. If you’re familiar at all with the spoon theory, you’ll understand when I say most of the time, I feel like I’m operating with a half-melted spork and it sucks.

How to help

People always ask me, “Well, how can I help you?” and the answer is, “Sometimes, you can’t.” There are going to be days where we can’t verbalise what we’re trying to say (those are my favourite days, seeing as I’m so dependent upon verbalisation for my career). Sometimes, we’re angry and we can’t really say why. Other times, we’ll be able to say, “hey, I’m just not feeling it today.” and you’ll know it’s a bad brain day.

If you are concerned about someone, friends or family, and you think they might be suicidal, contact the National Suicide Hotline at 800-273-8255. They are there twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. There is always someone listening and you can ask for advice on how to help your friend or where to get help for them.

But what about those mild and moderate people?

Understand the good days and bad. Offer to bring over a meal, or be understanding if, at the last minute, they cancel their plans. Wait for us to tell you or show you what we need, don’t presume to know better than we do what we want. Be okay with hugs (super squishy hugs are the best).

So why are we talking about depression?

I know, I’m supposed to be talking about sex. But lately, I’ve been having a lot of bad brain days and it’s hard for me to feel sexy when all I want to do is mope around the house and eat ice cream. I’ve been passing two or three kidney stones a day, which makes me SUPER fun to be around. I can’t even get excited for porn (it’s that bad). I feel like I’m disconnected from a lot of things but I’m fighting. I’m reaching out on Twitter and Facebook, I’m keeping up with people as best I can.

Feel free to leave a message or come chat with me on social media. I may not answer right away but I promise you, I’m seeing every message.

The Dirty Oracle


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The Keto Oracle Ham and Cauliflower Soup

keto cauliflower

I dislike cauliflower. It would even be safe to say that I hate cauliflower. To me, very similar to beets, it tastes like dead mud. However, being diagnosed with Stage Three Renal Disease can do wonders for a picky eater like me in being open to trying new foods. When I came across this recipe in my keto eating plan, suffice to say that I wanted to skim right past. But, I want to live a little while longer so I’ll try it. I love ham. I’m okay with soup. I’m trying to take better care of myself. What could possibly go wrong?

Ham and Cauliflower Soup

This takes about an hour, start to finish. For those of us who are eating keto and keeping to certain macros, I’ve posted them at the end of this blog. This makes one serving of soup for one person.


1 medium saucepot
Immersion blender/personal mixer (NutriBullet)


1 tbsp unsalted butter
0.25 cup yellow onion, diced
0.50 tsp garlic, minced (or one clove)
0.75 cup cauliflower, chopped
1 cup chicken broth
0.08 tsp onion powder
2 ounces of cooked ham, chopped



1. Melt the butter in a small saucepan over medium-high heat.
2. Add the cauliflower, onion, and garlic and sauté for 3 to 4 minutes until browned.
3. Pour in the chicken broth and add the onion powder.
4. Bring to a boil then simmer for 20 minutes.
5. Transfer to a blender or food processor and blend smooth.
6. Return to the saucepan and add the ham – bring to a simmer.
7. Add the thyme sprig and simmer for 10 minutes.
8. Remove the thyme then season with salt and pepper to taste.

Nutritional Information

315 24 g 14 g 11 g 2.5 g 8.5 g


I can’t say this was a winner for me. I couldn’t get past how much I really just do not like the taste of cauliflower. However, both my bride and the boychild raved about the soup so … I guess that’s a win?

Try it for yourself and let me know what you think of it.

The Dirty Oracle


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Jaxton Wheeler and Hans Berlin take part in some inappropriate touching (Iconmale)

inappropriate touching

Inappropriate touching shouldn’t be this fucking hot, okay? Let’s start with some of the facts that have become sort of my own white whale. In mid December 2017, Iconmale released a teaser clip for a scene between Jaxton Wheeler (the man drops my panties. Can’t help it) and Hans Berlin (those eyes could tap-dance me to the gates of hell itself). This clip? I can’t even remember what date it actually appeared on the site; but I’ve been committing mass genocide to D-cells for a solid six weeks, at least. (Do the math. Now you see why I charge $2.75/minute to talk with me)

Inappropriate touching, please!

I’ll call it December fifteenth, maybe sixteenth. I was laying in bed, getting ready to fall asleep and relaxing by flipping through the Upcoming Scenes on Iconmale. (What? It’s part of my shutdown as I’m going to bed). I was about half asleep when I caught Jaxton’s unmistakable frame hovering over … holy fuck that’s Hans Berlin! (cue: death of two D cells) I had recently fallen in lust with Hans from his appearance in the Stepfather series. Needless to say, I didn’t get the chance to watch the clip that first day. I’m fairly certain I passed out asleep after cumming so hard I could taste light. (chocolate covered gourmet caramel) When I woke up later that day, I was watching the clip as I sipped my coffee.  (add two more D cells)

There’s chemistry.

I’ve confessed my lust for both performers. Individually, each man is powerful on screen. Objectivity aside, it’s unrealistic to think that I would automatically love something on it’s face. Okay, maybe some bias. But I dare you to watch Hans Berlin in the moments before he’s kissing someone and tell me it’s not the most erotic thing you’ve ever seen. But even with that being said, the intensity of these two men together is fucking incendiary. On my first attempt to watch the clip, I lasted six minutes and twenty-six seconds. Watching Jaxton massaging Hans broad shoulders, leaning across his body to work his fingers deep into the muscle, was powerfully erotic but it was when Jaxton reached Hans’ feet that I happily ticked another kilojoule on my electric meter.

Body worship isn’t inappropriate (ish)

These two men, each in fantastic shape, know exactly how to make the scene hot. From Hans’ commentary on not wanting to impose his desires on the dark-haired masseuse to watching Jaxton stroking himself against Hans’ soles, the erotic tease ebbs and flows between them.

Jaxton’s side

I was lost from the first minute Jaxton pulled his shirt over his head (and fuck, have I mentioned enough how delicious that body is?). He spends several minutes licking and sucking Hans’ toes and earns a groan of pleasure from the man on the table. By the time he comes around to the head of the table, now completely naked, his cock is hard and bobbing in front of the German’s face. It doesn’t take long before Hans, laying on his stomach, is opening his mouth to show how much he appreciates the masseuse’s attentions.

Hans’ oral appropriation

So for just a second, I’m going to interject here. The position Hans is in for most of the first twelve minutes of the scene is a bitch but he makes it look easy. I’m pretty sure that’s not normal. But I’ll take it all day long.

Okay so Hans’ ability to lick and suck is put on gorgeous display once he gives in to the obvious desire. He treats Jaxton’s cock with a passion that is almost as hot as when he kisses someone (what? I have a kissing fetish). And Jaxton puts on one hell of a display as he settles his mouth around Hans.

Sadly, this is where our story ends. You see, this scene is my white whale. It’s been available on the Iconmale site since January second. I’ve joked on social media a few times about watching this scene in minutes. Today is the twenty-first of January and I have managed to make it fifteen minutes and three seconds in. (Yes, I know I could watch it after I get off but I’m usually pretty fucking wiped out) At this rate, I think I might be able to get the rest of the way through by Valentine’s Day. Possibly my birthday. Definitely by the Fourth of July.

If you enjoy premium gay porn, I promise you Iconmale is worth the cost of admission. Maybe we could even watch a scene together?


Masturbation and the female identified


Masturbation falls into one of two categories, depending on your identification. Entire industries are built around the male sexual desire. Adult entertainment, from strip clubs to phone sex, is all geared around the man and turning them on. I openly benefit from that because of my involvement with sex-work; which brings me to my second point. How females, and those who identify as feminine, are closeted and masturbation is shunned. Why is it okay for a man to jerk off but not a woman? Is it societal, generational, or just my perception?

Female masturbation

Brace yourselves; I’m about to drop some knowledge on you. Out of the blue, some days ago, this tweet appeared in my timeline, which led to a short but revealing thread of tweets.

That one statement has changed a lot for me, even in just five days. I realized, in that moment (shut up, I can have ah-ha moments at fourty-three) (stop humming Take on Me. That’s not what I meant). I realized how true a statement that is. Women are taught masturbation is wrong, dirty, unladylike. If you partake (and you have the tits to be proud of that), you’re labelled a slut, a whore; somehow you go from being a pillar of purity to a den of debauchery.

Male masturbation

By contrast, boys and men are encouraged to masturbate. If you go to an adult bookstore, some of the first items your eyes fall on are geared towards men. From lubes, to sleeves, to clothes for women to wear for their men; all of it is designed very specifically to appeal to men. Even in the section for dildos and toys. they are geared either towards women improving themselves for men or for men themselves. The difference in how a woman is treated when she explores masturbation versus how a man is treated is apparent at every turn. But I don’t begrudge this; please don’t misunderstand me. I love the industry for everything it offers both genders and those outside the traditional gender binaries. I love going to bookstores with men, on the phone in their ear as they visit their favourite gloryhole or hearing about their GRINDR hook-up.

Getting off

Since the tweet shown above, I’ve made a conscious effort to look at social media and find instances where women are as open about their masturbation and sexuality as men. It’s both empowering and depressing; some truly great sex bloggers out there are changing the stigma of being a sexually aware individual but they are far and few between. The pioneers in the concept have taken on the battle of masturbation, slut shaming, and body positivity.

Manual masturbation

I struggled to find a place where a woman was open about how she jerks off (or jill-off, if you prefer) when she’s alone or with a lover. There are blogs galore dedicated to sex toy reviews (which I have personally benefited from via the Eroscillator) but very few where a woman talks about her vulva, clitoris, or her self-explorations. I’ve seen so few that I’m inspired to begin writing my own. Perhaps a weekly round up of how often, how, and what got me off (HINT: it’s probably two men together. Which is, I think, another conversation. Women and the appreciation of gay porn. Now, to be fair, there aren’t many blogs out there dedicated to men discussing their jerk-off methods or comparing their masturbation to anothers’, outside of very tongue-in-cheek posts.

Sex toys

This one was easy to find. Just type “sex blogger” in your Google search and you’ll find dozens of woman-owned sex blogs. They cover anything and everything designed to stimulate, simulate, or enhance sex, whether alone or with a partner (or more than one partner). If it slides, slips, buzzes, rumbles, or purrs, chances are high a sex blogger has reviewed it. This is important in the scale of normalisation and acceptance. More and more people get their information from reviews of products and services; to make sex toys as common a topic as searching for a new car. The more people are talking about a subject, the closer it gets to mainstream adoption. You think they are just reviewing toys but they are actually laying the groundwork for a (hopeful) acceptance of a woman’s sexuality, unashamed and unabashedly.

Blatant sexuality

Take a deep breath; this one is going to hurt. Ready? Okay, you asked for it.

Some women like to fuck

I know. It’s a revelation. Take your time, get some juice. Practice your self-care routine. Okay? Ready? Okay, we’re going back in.

Women have the same sex drive and the same urges as a man. Given an equal playing field, I would argue we jerk off as much as our male counterparts. But we’ve been taught it’s unladylike to discuss our sexual conquests in the same way that men do. Even on social media as it exists, you’re hard-pressed to find a frank discussion of women that isn’t sarcastic or staged. And that’s a depressing reality. We’re getting off too!

The tweet above led to a recommendation of porn to watch while getting off. Why is this such a taboo? We like to fuck, we like to watch other people fuck. It’s time to stop letting ourselves be censored by antiquated ideals of what a woman “should be”.

Jerk off
Jill off
Be in your bunk
Get off

However you phrase it, please don’t be ashamed of it.

The Dirty Oracle

Phone Sex

Painting, jewelry, and self-reflection

Friendships come easily to me. Not sure why but people tend to gravitate towards me and I love learning about them and what makes them unique. One would think, when something comes so easily, that I might take those friendships for granted. I don’t. Each friendship I have is important to me for whatever reasons we share. I say this because I won’t post about all my friends but there’s one that I need to talk about because of what they give me.

I moved to Florida in 2013 and my home at the time had a wall that begged for artwork. I do not have artwork. At all. I’m not an art person. But this wall needed something, and I was lamenting this case to a woman I worked with, Diana. She told me about an artist friend of hers that does wall-sized pieces and she’d be happy to make an introduction. A day or so later, via Facebook, I was introduced to Abby.
Chances are high you have no idea what encaustic painting is (and if you do, bonus points). This is the medium they uses to create their art. For those of us who don’t know, encaustic painting is painting with hot wax. It’s a process going back to ancient Egypt; pigments are added to heated beeswax and that wax is applied to a prepared surface, usually wood. Tools are used to swirl and shape the heated wax before it cools, and the finished result is a three-dimensional piece of art that has shade, emotion, and passion imbued into it.
The image attached to this post is one that they created recently and, normally, I’d admire it for the emotion and feelings their art dredges up quietly over a cup of coffee. But I can’t keep this to myself because I need them to know what this image has given me.

abby markov
Image courtesy Instagram/AbigailMarkov

The piece I’m talking about here is the top frame; the cream and purple with blue at the outer edges. More than I think any other piece they have shown, created, and shared … this one touches my heart (cold and black though it may be). The colours are soothing. The way the wax melts from light to dark and back again wants to wash away every sin the monster I see in the wax ever committed. The white are the fraying edges of it’s monstrosity; melting away from pain and terror into something akin to anaesthesia. The mouth screaming from the side is the protestation of it’s eradication. The eyes staring out at me are filled with hatred, not for me but for what is happening to it.
The monster is dying. It’s not going quietly and it sure as fuck isn’t going to go easy. There are claws in that monster that haven’t shown themselves yet; protections that it has built over the years from those who would rebuff or repel their monstrosity. Things that will make the monster into a shadow puppet. But it’s not really a monster. It’s not really something outside of myself. It’s my own demons and my own monsters, the ones that make me into who I am. It’s the mistakes I’ve made and the ones that I’ve still yet to make.
This painting reminds me of who I am … dings and all.

I can’t afford their paintings, but I can admire them. And be thankful they are a part of my life.

The Dirty Oracle


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Reviewing why you should pay for your porn

I don’t think it comes as a huge surprise to anyone that I have a fetish for gay porn and gay romance. One look at my Twitter feed would show you a plethora of adult entertainers; straight, gay, and other. So, it should come as no surprise that I watch … ahem … a large amount of porn. I have three subscriptions to different sites, based on what I am in the mood for at any given time. So, since I’m watching … why not share my obsession enjoyment of certain clips with you? And don’t worry about those of you who aren’t into porn; I’m limiting these reviews to Thursdays. So, you can find them if you want them or avoid them if you don’t. Deal? Good. And, just so we’re clear, every link in these posts is an affiliate link of some kind. Please do not feel obligated to click or not click.

Subscriptions? You mean you buy porn?

Yes. This isn’t even a shadow of a grey area. I know it’s easy to go on a tube site and watch clips or full pirated scenes. Just like it’s easy to watch pirated movies online. However, I’m in the camp that says if you love something, you should support it financially. Without the financial support of people willing to buy their scenes, studios will quickly fold. And then you’re left with going back to grainy scenes, filmed with an old iPhone and posted on a tube site. Trust me. I remember porn in the eighties. You don’t want that. So, any scene I review, you’re going to have to subscribe to view them but most sites are really reasonable on pricing and offer quite a value for your dollar.

Don’t other people already do this?

Yes. With varying degrees of success, there are quite a few bloggers out there who review scenes; some dedicated to specific sites while others review across the spectrum. Some bloggers have favourites (myself included) and others are little more than a hateblog. So, let’s get a few things established right off the bat;

  1. I’m not doing any of this for any profit. Yes, there are affiliate links, but you aren’t beholden to click on them or sign up using them. It’d be nice, but it’s not a condition of my writing.
  2. I’m not going to hate on anything. If a scene doesn’t work for me, I’ll still have something positive to say about it because it intrigued me enough to click. So if you’re coming to see me rake someone over the proverbial coals, look elsewhere.
  3. There will be sarcasm and shenanigans. Why? Because it’s me. I’m a terminal smartass and I believe in having fun. The way I review things will usually include at least ten percent snark.

If you can live with those three little declarations, I’m glad to have you on board.

The Dirty Oracle


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7 Things depression taught me not to take for granted

Depression is more than just having the blues. According to the Center for Disease Control, depression is a serious medical illness. It affects one out of every twenty Americans over the age of twelve and is more prevalent in women than men. It can affect a person’s ability to work, do well in school, socialize, and even their physical well-being. And because of that, below are the seven things having chronic depression has taught me not to take for granted.


image courtesy LeoNeoBoy / pixabay

It almost seems comical, doesn’t it? Depression is always shown as being someone who can’t get out of bed or, who spends their time sleeping. That may be true for some people but, for others, the simple act of closing your eyes and getting rest is as foreign as trying to nap on a bed full of thumbtacks. Every worry you’ve ever had starts running through your brain and almost nothing will get it to stop. And yes, I’ve counted sheep, goats, spanks, cocks, and sung the alphabet backwards and forwards. Insomnia goes hand in hand with depression.

Depression physically hurts

image courtesy Sarah_Loetscher / Pixabay

There are days when just getting from the bed to the coffee pot is a Herculean task. And once I’m there? I can promise you, there isn’t enough caffeine on the face of this planet or the next for me.






All The Food. Literally. All of it.

I like to eat. I love to bake. My body type fluctuates between “curvy” and “extra curvy”. (technically I do BBW phone sex) I bake when I’m stressed out, when I’m trying to work through a plot hole, or when I feel like I need to work through an issue. When I’m having a depressive episode, I don’t bake but that doesn’t stop me from spending my Q3 earnings on cookies and ice cream at Publix. I don’t eat to comfort myself; I eat to drown the voices in my head that tell me how shitty I am. (Yes, I know they aren’t real and I’m not a shitty person most of the time)

Depression doesn’t want to hang out

“Hey, we’re all having dinner at Jen’s house. You should stop by.” At this point, they may as well be inviting me to be flayed alive by a sociopath. And it’s not that I don’t love my friends and family, as I’m sure you do as well. It’s just the idea of taking a shower, getting dressed, putting on make-up, and going to someone’s home and plaster a smile on my face is the last thing I want to do. I’d rather stab myself with a spork, to be honest.

I love you. Now stop asking me to fuck.

Depression and sex don’t mix. It’s not you, it’s definitely me. I can barely fake a smile, let alone an orgasm. If you’re lucky I can still write porn.

Pick a song!

Depression sometimes has ADD. I know when I’m in the midst of a fog, I can’t pick a song to listen to on Spotify. I can’t concentrate on a television show to follow even a thirty-minute plot. I’ll flip channels, skip songs to hear the next one on my “eclectic” playlist. I’ll be reading something and decide I want to read something else. I’m not trying to make you crazy, I swear. I just don’t know what I want to listen to that won’t make my depression even worse (HINT: Dropkick Murphys, when I’m in a mood like this, will reduce me to sniveling tears.)


This one seems petty but for me, having depression has taught me to embrace those moments when I can laugh and actually feel like I’ve laughed. Most of the time, I’m faking it and trying to fit in. It’s usually successful and only those that have known me forever can pick up on it. True laughter, the kind that comes from your gut, is rare. I cherish the moments as they come to me.

What has depression taught you? Leave a comment or find me on Twitter.

Lenny and Rhonda have a moment

Jimmy walked down the steps, on his way out the door, when his eye caught on something. Turning, he saw the back of Lenny’s head, staring at something on the television. And then he heard the sob. Changing direction, he headed towards the sound.
“Len, you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Thanks,” came the reply, sounding congested with tears.
“The fuck you watchin?”
Jimmy came around the side of the sofa and looked at the screen. Rhonda Rousey was on the screen, wearing a blue tank top that showed off her biceps.
“It’s a show. I heard about it at the gym.”
“I can see that, smartass. What the fuck is it about? Why are you cryin’?”
Lenny turned and looked at him, grinning abashedly. “It’s called Why We Fight. It’s about fighting; the people who do it for the love of the sport and not the people looking for a paycheck.”
“And … you’re crying, why?” Jimmy was very confused. From the sound of it, the show was interesting and inspirational. Why would Lenny be crying?
“Because I was moved, motherfucker,” she snarked back at him, without heat and managing a grin.
“Oh you were moved! Why didn’t you say? Are you having a ‘moment’,” Jimmy teased her as she took a playful swing at him. He purposefully used air quotes around the word moment and dropped his voice to sound more suggestive.
“You’re an asshole,” she deadpanned, flipping him off. “It’s a good show. It talks about the camaraderie you find at the gym and the culture that surrounds it.”
Lenny had been fascinated with fighting since she took her first swing on her brother when she was two years old. She’d started working out and working with weights when she was still in elementary school, carefully supervised by the trainer her father had hired for her. By sixteen, she was the junior division middleweight champion of the local mixed martial arts circuit. Now, at twenty-three, she was the current middleweight champion for New England region. She had been training to potentially challenge at a national level when the wreck happened. No sooner was she out of the hospital and she was down at the gym, working with friends who also worked as physical therapists, carefully building her strength back up. Now, eighteen months out, she was back to her pre-surgical shape, and there was no evidence of her femur having been snapped in two. Except now, she could tell when it was going to rain.
“Yes, and you know that I only fuck with you because you can’t kick my ass,” he replied with a wink. “Sounds like a good show. I’ll leave you to enjoy it.”
Lenny waved him off and turned back to the television, rewinding to the parts she’d missed.

The Dirty Oracle


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Obligatory Christmas Post


Okay folks, we’ve made it. It’s officially Christmas Eve (I’m typing this at 0132 EST) and they say this is the time of year to be thankful and reflect. I have so many people that I need to be thankful for; people who improved my life and my career over the last year. Strap in. There’s a lot of links and people I have to thank. This is going to get very sappy. Shoot yourself full of insulin before reading.

First, thank you to Nick Capra. I’d been casually aware of adult stars on Twitter because of my career but had no real contacts prior to you. Your struggles, triumphs, joys, and troubles have been inspiring to me. Without you, I’m not sure that I would have had the courage to face my own addictions or seek the help for them. I’m sober (Five months, fifteen days) in no small part thanks to you.

I can’t mention Nick without mentioning his family. Sharon, Jimmy, and Timmy were welcoming (with reservation) and made me feel comfortable. Sharon was patient and lovely, Jimmy called me on my crap, and Timmy has been a quiet presence. Thank you for giving me a place I could be comfortable.

Nica Noelle is a director in the adult film industry. She has a vision that drives her films beyond JUST porn (although don’t get me misunderstood … her porn is enough to leave you panting, spent, and quivering in a corner). She is an advocate for the craft, demanding equality and better treatment across the industry. Despite being targeted by others, she has the courage to stand her ground and say ‘No. This isn’t acceptable.” Someday, I hope to be half the badass she is. Of course, I also hope that when I grow up, I’ll have her hair. But that’s another story for another time.

Hugh Hunter. I could gush about Hugh until you’re sick of me and then I’ll keep going. The most obvious thing is going to be how attractive he is (because yes, the man makes me weak) but that’s only the surface.  He is warm, generous, has a set of pipes that will make you love musical theatre (even if you already love it), and has been an inspiring trendsetter in advocating for better conditions in the industry. He was the first that I became aware of who protested the discrimination in porn by pointing out a segregated category in an awards show that is supposed to celebrate accomplishment in the adult film industry. His courage is to be admired, right along with his tattoos and that delicious ass I want to sink my teet … err … never mind. His husband might not appreciate my playing favourites. Although his is just as warm and welcoming, I find it hard to explain why I adore him beyond calling him my favourite orange dinosaur.

Mr. Bear and his Kitteh – You know my love for you. For all that you’ve done, volunteered to do, and keeping me in touch with my Bostonian roots. I love you both.

Owl … Your service, support, and strength has been more than I could ask for. Balancing my mania with calm guidance and lifting me up when my brain goes bad.

My bears (yes, I have bears). Daddy Bear and Brother Bear (I couldn’t resist. I’m sorry. The pun wouldn’t let it go). Will and Liam Angell have given me guidance, humour, friendship, and they don’t mind if I shed on the couch. I’m a lucky kitten, indeed.

Jawja … My favourite Georgian … Maverick never batted an eye. He latched on as a friend and we’ve not let go. Plus he’s in the running as the most reviewed escort in the COUNTRY. Don’t believe me? Go look. I’ll wait.

Jamie … #SgtsArmy … and by extension, Sergeant Miles. Friendly, hysterically funny, inappropriately dirty, and some of the best friends a kitten could ask for.

So many of you have been an important part of my life over the past year and I couldn’t have made it here without you. I’m sincerely hoping for the best for us all in 2018. And I’m hoping to make it around to different parts of the country so I can snuggle and hug you in person.

Okay, that’s it. That’s my obligatory post. I’ll reflect on my personal life later. For now I have to get two hours of sleep before I go to my in-laws for Christmas in the morning.

Much love

The Dirty Oracle

The Dirty Oracle


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