Such was the case this past weekend.

Back when porn wasn’t the revolving door that it is now in terms of female performers you kind of got to know the girls in the biz, at least from the standpoint that you recognized names and could put a face with them, you also knew what to expect performance wise, there were maybe ten releases a week instead of one hundred.

I had a few personal favorites, one was a red head with a killer body named Patricia Kennedy. She wasn’t your conventional beauty but she had the prettiest eyes, long legs, a killer body and great lips. She also had an enthusiasm that was a bit more evident than that of her contemporaries who were more popular, like Ginger Lynn, Amber Lynn and Christy Canyon. I met her once when I was first getting into the biz at the CES Show in Vegas. It was a brief meeting and I don’t even remember what I said, probably wasn’t memorable anyway. She had gotten out of the biz at the time and was living in Atlanta, that much I do remember.

I happened across a story about her and found that she had a yahoo group I joined the group and emailed her asking if she was still in Atlanta and offering my services as a photographer or even if she wanted to shoot for me. As You can see she still has those great lips and bedroom eyes. She also still has a rockin body.

PK Then (Left) and PK Now (Right)

She wrote me back, she remembered meeting me, she doesn’t live in Atlanta anymore but she is working on getting her own website going. She was very nice, gave me her home phone number and we exchanged a few emails.

She was one of those girls I always wondered What Ever Happened to…Well now I know, and it looks like I made a new friend to boot.

Patricia is a class act and I wish her nothing but the best!

And again they do a hatchet job. I don’t have to tell those who saw it. They painted Laura Roxx as this poor Canadian girl trying to earn her way through college. Never mind the fact that she hasn’t been enrolled in any college. They didn’t mention her drug use, they didn’t mention the fact that she was turning unprotected tricks out of that 44.00 a night hotel room she was in. Ya know, now that I think about it, they probably did us a favor after all that IS the kind of girl that many people in this business prey on. Many of the scumbags in this business can smell desperation in a girl a mile away. Primetime said she was expecting to do only regular sex, Dugmoor was advertising on GFY that she would do double anal, he gloated that he was in a 400 dollar a night room and he had her in a 40 dollar a night room. Theres a word for guys like him, predator.

Of course Laura knew she was doing anal long before going to L.A., she had already done it in Canada, another fact that Primetime overlooked. Nor did they report that it is equally likely that She gave the disease to Darren as it is that he gave it to her but you can thank Sharon Mitchell for that.

Speaking of Sharon, they referred to her as “Doctor” Sharon Mitchell, proving that they didn’t do any background on that either and did us yet another favor. Had they pointed out that she calls herself “Doctor” yet she has no MD nor does he possess a Phd from any accredited University, or even a bachelors degree….we would have appeared even much more underhanded and slimey.

If they REALLY wanted to do a hatchet job on us they could have ripped us to shreds, was it fair and balanced? Hell no, But what it is, is entertainment, that’s all, they pander to what they think the audience wants to hear.

Speaking of Darren, this may be a bit off topic but it’s time he became a man and answered some questions. If printing his real name will make that happen, I will do it. What’s he hiding anyway?

Den Writes:

The Nationally Syndicated Neal Boortz Radio Show.

Chamblis High School in Atlanta.

For the morning announcements, the teacher puts in a tape and plays it for the class.

2 guys and a gal pulled a prank, they switched tapes and the teacher played a porno tape.

Neal interviews 1 of the guys and asks him, ‘Was it a Mike South tape?’.

Neal then interviews the gal.

You are number 1 with Neal.

Den

Hell Ya! Neal is the best!

Will the pretend Spider Jones Please Shut the Fuck Up!

The guy on the right is Spider Jones, The over-inked mommies boy on the left is Evan Seinfeld, better known to most as Mr Tera Patrick who now thinks its “cool” to call himself….You guessed it Spider Jones.

Heres a short Bio of Spider Jones (on the right):

“Spider is also a highly popular motivational speaker who is much admired for his diligent work among the youth. His inspirational life story “YES I CAN” reveals his amazing rise from the impoverished, gang infested, inner-city projects of Detroit and Windsor and how, as a grade five dropout, he eventually returned to school at the age of thirty to become an honour student. Spider’s favourite thing is talking to his Nighthawks, whether it be about sports, entertainment, or hot issues.

Over the past 20 years, Spider has interviewed such notables as Muhammad Ali, Doug Gilmour, Cito Gaston, Chubby Checker, Oscar De La Hoya, Roy Jones, Kris Kristofferson, James Brown, Bobby Hull, Guy Lafleur, Carlos Delgado, Jim Brown and countless others. Among his other claims to fame was to act as a sparring partner for such boxing legends as George Chuvalo, former World Heavyweight Champion Jimmy Ellis, and former Middleweight Champion Nino Denvenuti. Spider was also a member of Muhammad Ali’s training camp back in the days when ‘The Greatest’ fought Chuvalo.”

The Spider Jones on the left, aka Evan Patrick is best known for a bit part in the TV show OZ, probably as someones prison bitch. He also played in a band that went nowhere.

I only hope that someday little Spider Evan meets Big Spider Spider and learns a thing or two about stealing an identity.

Of course the real beauty is that now everyone knows the truth feel free to tell the pretender he is not Spider Jones, Spider Jones is a real man, not pussy with no original ideas.

The clean up everyfucking thing and put it where you’d never think to look for it. The vacuum was in the closet with the fishing stuff and the GPS was in the food pantry, I know damn good and well Goddess didn’t use either of them. All my video masters were strewn about as though they had been used in a drunken orgy and my albums of chromes were all laying about with conspicuous Sharpee black ink scribbled all over Cori Love’s face. She left Trixie’s pics alone though…I guess she likes Trixie in some oddball way. My photos of me, Jesse Jane, Samantha Lewis and Adella were all turned face down and a picture of some bald dude in a bad rug was left on my kitchen counter…I think he used to work for AVN.

Mostly though it’s the tuna smell on everything that bugs me.

OK Lets Get to Something Serious:

With the proliferation of modeling sites like OMP and adultstaffing girls wanting to do adult in places all over the country now have immediate access to potential employers. They can post photos, have them sent to everyone in a particular state or states and sit back and let the offers roll in.

And roll in they will, even a marginally cute girl who indicates that she does adult will be barraged with offers of employment. But who exactly are these employers?

Some are legit but sadly most are not, many are even criminal. So how do you know who is and who isn’t legit?

These are all NUMBER1 for a REASON!

Lets start with the email itself.

1. What is the return email address? if it’s hotmail, yahoo, or anything other than a functional company website, chances are it’s a con job. real employers have real websites, and guys who shoot for Playboy or Wicked or Vivid for instance generally don’t email from AOL accounts. If they say the shoot for so and so they should be able to give you a reference there, or better yet call Vivid and ask…they are happy to tell you, they also know the names of people claiming to be affiliated with them who are not.

1. Just because they have a functional site doesn’t mean much though, any fourth grader with a basic knowledge can build a website. Ask for a free membership so you can see what it is you are getting yourself into. If they are legit, a free membership is no big deal…if they whine about that tell them to fuck off and die cuz it’s a scam.

1. Don’t let him call you, you call him. Who answers and how? If the phone number is a pay phone in a penetentary..well you can figure that out.

1. Ask for 3 Industry references, and call and check those references. A bouncer at the local titty bar isn’t an industry reference, Mike South or Dave Cumming is.

1. Use google and look for this guy and his company,you might just find out enough there to know if it’s legit or not.

1. Speaking of legit…If the offer sounds too good to be true…it is. Don’t want to believe that? Ask Natel King…Oh wait, you can’t, she was KILLED by a so called photographer, who offered her about 3X the going rate for bondage work. Don’t be another Natel.

1b. Anyone who tells you that you can make 160K a year doing porn in Kansas is full of shit.

1. Speaking of offers…Know EXACTLY what is expected of you and what and when and how you will be paid for it. If it will be by company check and you have never heard of the company ask for their bank and call and verify that they have an account there or better yet make the company cash it on the spot.

1b. Spell out exactly what you aren’t doing as well…You don’t do anal, fine SAY IT!

1. Anyone who wants an audition is scamming you plain and simple, even if its “paid”

1. Anyone who wants pictures other than simple test shots, consisting of a full length from each side, a top third and a head shot, is just picture collecting. Real photographers/directors don’t want spreads, facials, hardcore or pantyhose pictures.

1. Anyone who offers to pay your airfare to shoot is breaking a federal law called the Mann Act. I know a lot of people do it, but you should be aware of that. The best thing for you to do is increase the pay for the work that you are doing so that it covers your expenses as well, it is illegal for anyone to “officially” re-imburse you.

1. If you are unsure about anything or if you don’t know who you are shooting for take a friend with you, male or female. The friend should be well behaved and nobody will have a problem with him/her being on set, if they do, they are up to something. Don’t accept “We have closed sets as an answer” YOU be in control of your life, you have something they want and if they are planning on scamming you they don’t want a witness.

1. NEVER EVER be afraid to walk away from a set if anything seems wrong. It may save your life. Natel King said that she had bad feelings about the guy who killed her…had she listened to herself she would still be alive today.

OK Class over..good luck.

Don’t you realize That AVN doesn’t give a rats ass about much anymore?? LOL
love you
Autumn

Sadly, yes I do realize it.

Today is Felicia Fox’s Birthday!

Being like family to me I want to wish her the best! Felicia (aka Fifi) is without a doubt one of the hottest girls in porn, she puts girls many years her junior to shame, and she does it with class and style. Not to say that Fifi is old…hell 30 is just the begining…I know… I been there.

I Love You Fifi!

Two Week Testing Rules:

A lot of companies are jumping on a two week testing cycle. I’d like to remind everyone that a twoo week cycle really doesn’t improve anything, the window is at least 30 days. You should also note that even with a two week cycle, not one person who currently has HIV frm the recent outbreak would have been spared.

Indeed this could really fuck things up because the braintrust over at AIM doesn’t even know how to do the math for a 30 day cycle…imagine if they had to deal with a two week cycle…

Nothing interesting really happened in porn but there is one thing I do want to comment on.

A couple of months back I chronicled some problems that Autumn Rayne had with a certain company in New York called Ebony and Ivory, they didn’t just screw her, they gave her a forged check and faked HIV tests. I am happy to be able to tell you that the head scumbag behind Ebony and Ivory is now incarcerated. This is his third felony conviction if he goes down and that means life behind bars for him. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy and congrats to Autumn for setting him up so that NYPD could take him down.

Something else I noticed….AVN, to my knowledge, hasn’t written a word about it. let some scumbag get arrested for child porn and AVN reports it on the front page. I think they have some fucked up priorities of late over there.

Nooooo! South is kicking me out! I can’t believe it. Now I’m glad I ate that nice, big piece of birthday cake I saved for him.

I’m disappointed my time was so short, though. I was gonna call Mom South and have her come down to teach me how to tease my flat Northern hair into big Southern hair. She already bought the four cans of Aqua Net, damn it! It was going to be a real bonding experience. Sigh. When South asks me to write, I never want to do it, but once I do, I never want to give the site back to him. I always think, “Let him get his own damn site!”

I was supposed to stay longer, but then it happened. I got the call in the middle of the night. Those three little words I dread hearing, “Get out. I’m coming home.” I just know he’s booting me out because I threatened to write that review of Southern Magnolias. Oh come on. Who really thought I would sit through that? What’s next? Me watching Confederate Cuties? BWAHAHAHAHA. As if.

Fine, Mike. Be that way. I don’t need you. I just ordered Carlton Sheets “No Down Payment,” and in a few short weeks I’m going to be filthy, stinking rich! I’m going to be rolling in money and I’ll pretend I don’t even know YOU. Ummmm, btw, that charge might show up on your Master Card. Speaking of which, kudos on hiding that credit card. It took me three whole days (and nights) to find it. Why if I hadn’t gotten all excited when Greg emailed me to tell me he liked my posts, and spilled that YooHoo on your computer desk, I might never have found that card, duct taped to the bottom of a bottle of Mr. Clean. Clever. You knew I’d never willingly look in your cleaning supply cabinet.

I did manage to get a good look at the files on South’s desktop today. My favorite folder was the one marked, “Every IM Conversation I’ve Ever Had With Adella.” HA! Schure she’s groovin’ on the fact that he’s charming now, but she’ll find out what he’s really like. The first (couple hundred) time(s) they argue and she mutters the immortal words, “I never said that,” the real South will come out. He’ll start copying and pasting shit you never even remembered uttering. And he won’t let up because he’s merciless. He’s like a rabid dog. No. A rabid dog in heat. You mark my words, sister! You heard it here first.

I’ve had the best time here and sending South my entire post in capital letters and funky colored fonts only made it better. The rules and regulations list didn’t thrill me, but once I learned to ignore everything Mike said, and did what I damn well pleased, I had fun. One thing I’m really going to miss when I leave today is South’s DSL. I’m addicted. I mean schure, I’m gonna miss wearing his contact lenses and sleeping in his boxers, but the DSL is in a class all it’s own. When you’re downloading, dial-up downloading time is a lot like football time. They tell you “it’ll just take a minute,” but it really takes forty-five minutes. With DSL, by the time the phrase “it’ll just take a minute” flashes on your screen, it’s finished downloading. Sigh. Now it’s back to dial up. Everybody sing, “….on a cold and gray Chicago mornin’ a poor little baby child is born in the internet ghetto”

Oh well, all good things must come to an end….as South will soon discover when he realizes I’ve stolen most of his huge hard back book collection. Apparently he’s never heard of these newfangled things called “paperbacks.” Luckily for him, I left all the Stephen King crap behind. (Keeping my fingers crossed that Stephen King doesn’t read mikesouth.com crap…)

One hard thing to deal with when going home is Mr. G’s raging jealousy. Wow. The last time I stayed here it was really bad when I got home. He is so jealous of South. I assured him South was gone before I arrived and he wasn’t home before I left. Excuse me, he wasn’t home in the “24 hours in which I had to vacate the premises.” Oh, Mr. G says he’s not really jealous of South at all. He says he’s angry because of all the truck drivers who call here asking to talk to the blonde woman driving the Kia with the bumper sticker that reads, “How’s my tits? Phone1-800-Tell-Goddess.” Oh schure that’s what he says, but I know better. I mean, puhleeze, that could be anybody.

Since Mike left me a message on the fridge, I shall leave one for him. [Of course he’ll go right to the fridge, Little Grasshoppers, if for no other reason than to see if I managed to break the lock.] I wrote:

Dear Mike,

Thanks ever so much for letting me stay at Casa de South. I had such a great time. I got a much-needed break from screaming kids, screaming ex-husbands and fixing flat tires on my trailer. I feel much more relaxed, and able to deal with life.

I want you to know that I respected your privacy and didn’t touch any of your things. I didn’t go into your bedroom, I didn’t eat a single Moon Pie while I was updating on your computer, and I certainly didn’t slide a pamphlet under your neighbor’s door that reads “Drugs Kill, but Jesus Saves. Call me. We’ll talk” with your phone number on it. Because that would be so very wrong. Hysterically funny, but so very wrong. I am proud of me and my good behavior.

BTW, you had a phone call from some chick while you were away. Her name was something like Sharon….or Sheryl….or Sherrita? Does any of that ring a bell? Oh yeah now I remember. It was Lisa. Anyway, I may have inadvertently, sorta, kinda given Lisa the impression that you didn’t want to see her again unless Hell freezes over.

Do me a favor before I come back next time, Mike–oh, and I WILL be back–get yourself an electric toothbrush will ya? I got tired of having to move my head while making that humming noise every time I used your toothbrush. Spinbrush from Crest. It’ll cost ya a whole $5, rich boy.

Hugs & kisses,

Goddess

P.S. I can’t seem to find my Moon Pies. I may have left them

in your bedroom next to the computer. Oh! and I ACCIDENTALLY peedonyourcouchbrokeyourlazyboyandtoldyourneighboryouwantedakiloofcrack. Have a nice day!

And I am outta here…

Ok I’d like to turn your attention to politics today. I’d like to use this post to outline my plan for ending the war in Iraq, and I’d like to talk about the presidential candidates, and who I feel will do the best job. Naah, I just wanted to do a number on South’s blood pressure.

Pam writes: “Goddess, you mentioned Mike South wanted you to talk about current events. Does he tell you what to talk about when you write for him?”

I’m joking, Pam. Mike told me that he has complete faith in me and I can write about whatever I want, and he won’t censor me. Translation: he’s fishing and he could give a fuck.

Uh oh. South’s neighbor found out that I was from the North. Duh. Like my decided lack of a Southern accent wasn’t a big clue. When he found out I was from Pennsylvania, the neighbor told me that they don’t “cotton to Yankees down South.” Yankees?! They still refer to us as Yankees? What in the world is that all about? Did somebody forget to tell him the Civil War is over? Up North, where the winners live, we’ve forgotten all about it. The more this guy talked, the more I expected to see Robert E. Lee riding down the street…as a captive of the Northern army, of course.

I was reading Dear Abby today, and some lady wrote in about her husband. She thinks he’s cheating on her. She said she’s interrupted some whispered phone conversations, and she found a pair of red thong underwear in her laundry that he insists belongs to his 70-year-old mother. (Ugh. The visual.) Ok, this is obviously one very lazy man. Hell, he can’t even be bothered to think up a credible lie. If you’re gonna lie, people, lie well.

I’ve realized something very important while staying at Casa de South, and that is that a person can only survive on birthday cake for so long, and then one is forced to leave the comfort of the Lazyboy and find food. South’s neighbor gave me directions to the store, and a discount on crack should I so desire to partake. Unfortunately for him, due to the high sugar content in birthday cake icing, I’m all cracked out at this point. The first thing I noticed about Atlanta yesterday when I went out to eat is that they keep the highways very clean. Not a bit of roadkill in sight. Damn. I blame Atkins. Before that whole protein diet craze came along, it wasn’t out of the ordinary to find a raccoon, a skunk and a possum with a bad sense of direction all on the same day. Now I can barely find a woodchuck, and we know how dimwitted they are. And no, I’m not worried about the skunk or the ‘coon having rabies. Deep frying kills eveything. Including the taste. Alas, I was force d to go to the grocery store today and pay for meat. I haven’t done that in years.

While I was at the store, this question came to mind: do straight guys ever go shopping with their straight male friends? Every time I’m with a guy and we see two other guys shopping, invariably my friend will lean over and say, “oh they’re gay.” Why? Don’t straight guys shop together? Granted, grocery shopping together might seem a tad odd if you don’t share a house, but what about clothing shopping? Do you do that in pairs? Or is that some unforgivable social sin that nobody told me about?

I was reading the paper while standing in line at the check out, and I read about another “reality” show called “Campus Cops.” They tag along with college campus cops and film. Now here’s yet another all-important question: in a shoot out, who do you think would win: a campus cop or a mall cop or a Keystone cop? This article got me thinking about how great it would be for an ordinary citizen, such as myself, to ride along with REAL cops. OMG. The donut runs alone would be well worth it. “One Adam 12. One Adam 12. All units in the vicinty of Fourth and Fairfield respond to the Krispy Kreme. We have an officer on the scene who can’t decide between the glazed donuts and the strawberry crème filled.” I loved this line from the article though: “Many colleges won’t touch reality TV, for fear it’s sometimes shallow, drunken and libidinous characters are not the best ambassadors of campus life.” Yeah, the one part of the reality show that IS real, they wanna censor. Go figger.

South emailed me this morning. “Goddess, I usually mow the lawn on Saturdays.” I emailed back, “Good for you, Mike. Don’t forget the sunblock.”

I found some of South’s baby pictures when I was snooping through his dresser drawers, and some of when he was in high school. I laughed so hard I peed myself. While looking at the pictures, one thought kept going through my mind: if you get pee on somebody’s brand new leather couch, do you think the smell comes out when you wipe it off just using water and Bounty?

I had trouble working South’s DVD player, so I’ll review Southern Magnolias in tomorrow’s update. I called him about it. Apparently it needs to be plugged before it’ll work. Dang these Southern people and their weird ways…

I always begin my day with a morning meditation. In nature, if possible. So today I sat out on South’s front porch

enjoyin’ the view from his precious Lazyboy recliner. (Notice how I hauled a new fridge onto the porch? Convenient yet tasteful.) I like to call this “The Trailer that Porn Built.” I spent an hour out here meditating to the bird’s serenades, softly rustling leaves and the neighbor hocking chewing tabaccky off the front stoop. It was truly a religious experience.

Most of my meditating ended up being about South. Thoughts of him have a tendency to intrude at the worst times. I kept thinking about a conversation we had earlier. When I told South on Wednesday that Thursday was my birthday, he said, “Is it really?” And I said yes. Then he said asked me how old I was. Good grief, could I have picked a lazier, less attentive guy to stalk? My only excuse is that I was young and stupid at the time. The General said, “Ok remind me and I’ll mention it on my site.” **rolls eyes** Hard to believe some chick hasn’t snatched Mr. Sensitivity right up, huh? Well, no hard feelings, I left you a nice, big piece of birthday cake, Mike.

Ya know what really yanks my chain? Besides that obnoxious Bob dude in the Enzyte commercials. When I’m IM’ing with South, he’s always bragging about what great neighbors he has. He told me one was a Playgirl centerfold. Then I get down here and find out it’s some guy in a leisure suit, who has a home based pharmaceutical business, and who has been featured on COPS several times. And not as a cop either. Now I don’t feel the least bit guilty about accepting this writing gig just so I could garner more search engine hits than that chick at Digital Playground whose name I won’t mention so she doesn’t get yet another hit.

I did enjoy a few moments of quiet to read the paper while South’s neighbor was shining up his El Dorado. I read that the shower scene from Psycho was voted as the best movie death of all time. Odd. I thought Ben Affleck’s appearance in Gigli was the best movie death. Oh, wait, that was best death of a movie career.

Britain is so obsessed with text messaging and emailing that psychologists are concerned that all this techno talk will make people “uncomfortable with more intimate face-to-face conversations” and baaaad communicators. Yes, but it greatly strengthens our lying skills and our ability to exaggerate. Ooops. Their lying skills.

A poll was taken as to what Germans think about while waiting in traffic. [Hey, if South can talk about orgasmic candy bars, I can talk about the Germans and their inane thoughts!] Thirty three percent think about sex, eight percent think about how much gas they have {deep, huh?}, seven percent think about going to a toilet. Six percent think about their careers. And twenty percent think about having sex while their career goes down the toilet. I can’t believe nobody thinks about the obvious: obnoxious Bob from the Enzyte commercials. I think about how much I hate being stuck in traffic. And my estrogen levels, of course. I think about sex IF there’s a guy close by on a motorcycle. For some reason, when I see a motorcycle, I think SEX.

Speaking of Germans, those militant German chicks are so pissed (pardon the pun) that their guys have bad aim when peeing, that they’re buying a device that verbally ridicules the guy for standing up while urinating. Damn. They’re militant AND too lazy to do their own nagging. But geez now you guys can’t even pee without hearing about it. I wish I could get one of those devices for my dog, though. She seems incapable of taking more than two steps off the front porch before she does her duty. Hell, she could at least have the decency to pee in the neighbor’s yard like the rest of us.

In Italy (doesn’t America ever make the news in Georgia?) some couples are now saying “I receive you,” instead of “I take you” in their wedding vows. If you remember, “I take you” replaced the less popular vow, “I’ll use you for sex then dump your sorry ass later.”

Damn. South emailed me and told me to talk about “current events.” Well, currently his neighbor is enjoying another stint on COPS. In my neighborhood, the most oft repeated phrase is “Have a nice day!” In South’s hood it’s “you can’t arrest me, you mother fuckers!!” All this screaming about police brutality and baton swinging is harshing my mellow. I’m gonna go inside and chill by watching a copy of Southern Magnolias that I found, so I can make fun of it in an upcoming post. I’m sorry…did I say “make fun of” because I meant “review.” How’s that for “current events,” baby?

Hey, kids. Once again it’s time for me to spend a few days at Casa de South. (FYI, if South ever asks you to do something for him, don’t use the words ‘I’ll THINK about it” because the next thing you know, you’ll be flashing truckers while driving southbound to Atlanta on I-95.) The General is hiking it down to the beach for fun, sun and sex. How that differs from his life at home is beyond me, but the man feels he needs a “break”.

I told South I would be glad to update for free, but now that I’m in his condo and I see he has a lock on his refrigerator, he owes me a new URL. I think I’ll make him buy me www.fuckyouyoucheapbastardimhungry.com.

He left me this note magneted to the fridge…how in the world did he know I’d head right for the kitchen?

“Dear Goddess, I know you were worried that you would have nothing to write about for my column, so I’m leaving you a few pointers. First of all, my readers are your average, sensitive guys who love hearing about a woman and her cats. I mean, what’s not to love about silly kitty litter mishaps?” (Wait one minute. Is he being sarcastic to the Goddess of sarcastic?) “Secondly, they’re family oriented guys, too. So feel free to talk ad naseum about your 16 kids. They’ll eat it up. And last but certainly not least, talk about your menstrual cycle or your visits to the gynecologist. In vivid detail if possible. These guys enjoy being knee deep in estrogen.” (He IS being sarcastic!)

“P.S. Because the last time you stayed with me you ate me out of five months worth of groceries,” (Well, well, well. “All rise for Judge Mental”) “I’ve emptied the cupboards and locked the fridge. Enjoy your stay!”

Enjoy my stay?! Enjoy my stay?! Oooooo, he will learn to respect my authoritah!

I used to look forward to staying at Casa de South, but this visit is a drag cuz South posted a list of rules and regulations in every room. My first experience here was the best. When South had no clue that I had a few “bad habits”. When he was still in that generous “my smelly trailer is your smelly trailer” mood. When he was willing to bend over backwards to get someone to do his dirty work. Now he’s all cranky and fussy and picky, and for that I shall slide my naked, sweaty ass across every bit of countertop I can find in his kitchen. We do that up North when we like someone.

Look at the asinine rules I have to put up with:

No loud parties.
(Are there any other kind?)

No one weighing over 500 lbs can lay on my bed.
(Now where the hell does he expect me to sleep?!)

No Alanis Morisette CD’s permitted on the premises.
(Whaaaa? Not even the new one?!)

No eating—especially Moon Pies–in my computer room.
(Nooooo! Not my precious Moon Pies!)

No Ed Powers videos
(As if!)

No drugs or cigarettes
(Hey! I work in America. .I think we all know I can’t afferd to sustain a cigarette or drug habit on my salary. Oops. Never mind. Underneath this rule I see the words “this rule applies to Canadians only.”) Hi, Beater.

Happy birthday to me. This will be the first year I’ve spent my birthday away from home and family. Thanks, South. Thanks a lot. But The General did tell me I didn’t have to write anything today since it’s my birthday. Is he a good mastah or what? Wait a minute. Didn’t I just write an entire—sigh.

Later kids, this Goddess needs food, but once I get settled in, I promise to give you the scoop, the dip and the 411 on South. Whether you want it or not…