Finding this in my inbox has drawn me back to the Tiny Log, taking a small break while finishing my seventh book:
Not only is her note cute, but so is her blog, and I’m now a regular of this smart and interesting girl. Another blog I visit lately is the very sexy DeeGee Girl, whose anonymous adventures are very inspiring. Oh, and I can’t leave out the email from my sexy trumpet playing friend in the Marching Band, "CAN WE GET A FUCKIN’ UPDATE PLEASE!!!!!!"
I’ve been lying low, trying to finish another major manuscript. Bunny slippers, piles of sex books, DSL, personal lubricant, and the steady hum of my iBook burning CD’s to iTunes for my iPod have kept me comfort while I’ve stayed home for weeks. I miss the Marching Band, and working at SRL, but soon I’ll be back in the machine shop… I surely wasn’t prepared for meeting Veronica Hart the other night — or anything else that happened at the St. James Infirmary benefit at Good Vibrations last Tuesday. I got an email from VCA, the company she works for, saying that Veronica didn’t have my contact info, but put me on the guest list in hopes that I’d attend the event. I was stunned — after the chilly reception my video book got by the harpy at AVN, I figured that the adult industry wasn’t going to be my friend. Not such a bad thing, anyway, and I’ll admit that my book is critical of the industry, while being supportive of porn viewing.
When I got to the event, I went over to Hart and asked her for an autograph — and when she found out who I was, she went crazy in support of me and my book. Imagine how I felt, this woman who is a legend and a pioneer, standing there telling me my book "kicks major ass" and how much she loves it! I felt like a little kid, or maybe like Mr. Mackie on South Park when he takes drugs and his head turns into this big balloon and floats around the world. Hart talked my ear off, told me she wants to see me in LA, and signed a photo for me reading, "Oh, Violet– Thank you for including me in your most amazing book. Love always, Veronica Hart."
Suddenly I was the popular girl, in a room full of porn stars and strippers, and boy did I feel like running around tables covered in dildos and vibrators in tight little circles laughing until I got dizzy and passed out. But I didn’t. Instead, when I tried to leave, Nina Hartley stopped me and said, who are you? I told her my name, and she gushed, "Oh, Ernest loves your book and everything you wrote in it!" (Ernest Greene is her husband, the publisher of Taboo magazine, and the finest S/M porn director alive, aside from Maria Beatty). I think I wet my pants. She hugged my boy-toy, kept going and said, "When are you coming to LA? You have to come over and have dinner at our house, and play!" A thin, fishing-line filament of drool hung from my mouth as she went on, talking about how much she loves my cunnilingus book, and I can’t believe she reads my books!!!!
After that, I capped off the evening in the best way possible — with a prank. As I was leaving, some wanker came up to me and asked for an autograph — because he’d seen all my movies. Uh-huh. A couple years ago, some porn chick emerged with my same name, long after I’d been published, and it was a bit irritating, though I though it was kinda funny in an ironic way. In fact, my hilarious and cute gay friend Chris insists that she not be called "Violet Blue" in his presence, instead that she be referred to as Miss Mousy Brown (her hair). It’s all a fun joke — but when asked for an autograph as the imposter, I couldn’t help but return the favor. So as the porn chick Violet Blue, I giggled, said, wow, it’s so cool being a porn star, and signed. I wrote, "Thank you for masturbating to my image onscreen. You have pleased me. When I dominate the universe your death will be quick and painless. Signed, Violet Blue (not the author)"
It’s my new favorite hobby.
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