I got paid the other day to tell someone how to more easily and comfortably stuff stuff in her butt. U jelly? Check it out on the Pipedream Blog.

For my first ever SGP article (LOL OMG SO EXCITE), my initial intent was to devour all the fuckheads who’ve been ignorantly commenting on the Duke U. porn starlet. I procrasturbated this piece, waiting for the fire in my eyes to at least pretend to settle so I could write a calm, cool, and collected, unbiased and super profesh rebuttal to the general public’s ignorance. But alas, a few weeks have passed and all of the bong loads later… and I’m still fucking furious.

You know, they say never read the comments, but I say fuck that – never read any of the online updates posted after the initial week of any occurrence because it’s given people way too much time to disguise the “news” with their “opinions”… and then the first thing you find after desperately avoiding to Google “duke u porn star” for almost a month is some shit about the poor girl receiving death threats, and people questioning how she spends her money, and others completely dismissing the fact that she could ever possibly enjoy rough sex. Strangers denying that she could have consensually agreed to these acts; that she even had any say in this process; that she’s a human fucking being.

“I don’t care if she signed a contract – rough sex scenes are harmful and degrading to the women in them.” Uh, have you ever heard of some shit called “consent” or “fetishes” or “orgasms” before? Some people would consider the pinnacle of sex to be the orgasm. Some people can’t have an orgasm without indulging in their favorite fetish. These people – they give their consent to perform in these scenes to help fulfill their fantasies and bust a fucking nut, for once. Just because you get off a different way than someone else does not mean your way is right and that their way is wrong. Just like you might like to fuck girls, someone else might like to fuck boys, or toys, or nothing at all.

Let’s put it this way – I can’t cum unless my Permanent Roommate beats my ass red, then flips me over, ties me up, wraps his big ass lumberjack grip around my throat, and fucks me deep and hard until I gasp and beg to climax. I literally cannot and will not cum without this much effort, whether alone or with a partner. Wanna know what happens when I can’t cum? I get pissed. I get super frustrated by this form of lady blue balls. I get depressed because I feel like my body and mind are suffering a disconnect because I can’t reach my own satisfaction. It makes my partner feel shitty, as if he isn’t good enough. All of these real feelz that fuck with one’s anxiety and depression would never, ever cease if I didn’t beg my super vanilla Permanent Roommate to engage in these super intense acts with me. I promise you – Ms. Belle Knox is not feeding the cameras a line when she says she enjoys what she does. There are some of us who could not survive without this type of release. Google “depression and erotic spanking” for more insight into BDSM as a form of relief.

Totes cheesing amidst this Sammich de los Role Models at the XBIZ 360 adult industry conference. L to R: Courtney Trouble, James Darling, Yours Truly, and April Flores.

“Okay, well, she might like it, but the other people in that industry are scumbags taking advantage of a naïve little girl!!!” #1. Fuck you, I am not a scumbag. #2. Fuck you, she is a grown ass woman with a brain and the right to make her own choices.

I’ve been the weird kid my whole life. I got my first job at a pet shop where they wouldn’t let me work the floor because I was a pimply fat girl hiding in oversized Pantera t-shirts, so they paid me more just so they could hide me in the kennel to clean up shit 8 hours a day. My second job was at a chain restaurant in a Pennsylvania suburb where customers loudly and proudly snickered with my co-workers about that fat chick with the green hair as I sliced their fucking bread two feet away.

The PD crew rocks the ANME trade show. Say hi to the Parsons and car accident co-workers on the far right. ♥

My third job was as a college RA, where my vocabulary was censored and my liberal ethics questioned, regardless that I hosted the most successful events of our department and maintained the safest, most close-knit on-campus community. I worked for an auto shop where my face became infected due to the constant irritation of removing and hiding my piercings. I did whatever the fuck it took to bring home enough money to afford my groceries and gas and daily prescriptions… and I was fucking miserable. I was so completely censored and dismissed. I was never comfortable, and I never felt like a genuine human being.

Then suddenly, just after earning my BA a year early the week I turned 21, an Angel of the Dark Wet Lord finally answered my pervy prayers and pushed me in a direction where I could not only afford my bills and even a little extra cash for weed, but a place where I can utilize my college degree, where my creativity is an asset and I am encouraged to showcase my authentic voice, where I save sexless marriages and counsel grandmas with their first dildos, where I can laugh and curse and wear whatever the fuck I want, where my opinion actually matters, where my community actually cares about me… Hold da fuck up – all of this, and you get paid to be there?

Uh, yup. The adult industry is the first and only professional setting where I feel completely at home. My first week at Pipedream, I crashed my car just days after buying it, and our camera guy pulled over in high-speed traffic to help and comfort me through the accident. When my insides exploded and I suffered daily panic attacks and stomach spasms, my co-workers carried me from my desk to the bed in our studio (one of many perks of working in porn) where I rested while they reached my doctor. When my grandfather suddenly passed back home in Philadelphia almost 3,000 miles away, our HR lady hugged my tears away and insisted I go home to mourn with my family.

For my birthday, the Texan and dog mom surprised me with a sugar-infested Satanic sacrifice. m/

These are the wonderful people I am surrounded by in this filthy industry. Filmmakers with autistic kids. Wives with adorably spoiled dogs because they won’t have children. Activists who spend their vacation time volunteering overseas. Talented Texan Parsons grads. Dads by day and DIY artists by night. Twenty-somethings swallowed by student debt (psst, that’s me). We’re the same people sighing alongside you in the grocery store line, the same people crying beside you through that shitty romcom at the $3 movie theater, the same people wiping their ass with the same generic TP you do. So before you go questioning people’s values and humility just because they pay their rent with their jizz-stained fuck money, why not consider this – these are human fucking beings you’re talking about, so let’s start treating them that way.