The AVN, bless their little cotton socks, once ranked me at #19 on their list of the top 50 porn stars of all time. #19! Not bad for a girl who mostly winged it, showed up late, and probably caused more headaches than actual cinematic masterpieces. I should’ve been #1, obviously, but modesty always did become me, just not very often.
My career was never just about the skin flicks, I had range and artistic depth or, at least, I had a great agent who told me I did. I dipped my toes into the shimmering, slightly sticky waters of B-movies. And let me tell you, if you think porn sets were wild, you haven't seen anything until you've been on a low-budget sci-fi horror comedy set at 3 AM with a prop severed head that looks suspiciously like last night's dinner. I played everything from a possessed cheerleader to an alien seductress to a zombie's love interest. The roles were diverse but I gave them my all or as much all as I could muster after a long night at the Sunset Strip hot spots.
Billy Idol, Vince Neil, David Lee Roth, Billy Sheehan, Pauly Shore, Slash, Mark Wahlberg, It was like a who's who of every poster I ever had on my teenage wall, except they were actually in my bed. It was exhausting, thrilling, and frankly, a lot of fun.
My reputation, much like my hair, was big, bold, and sometimes a little untamed. It was said that I always arrived late and was a temperamental Diva and not inaccurate I'll admit.
My financial acumen, or lack thereof, also became legendary. Substantial income they said and it was for a fleeting moment. But where does all that money go when you're living large, loving harder and buying every ridiculous thing that sparkles? Apparently, it goes. Quickly.
I was a girl who broke barriers, hearts and a few studio couches and lived full-throttle, consequences be damned and while i I survived the 90s, dated everyone you had a poster of in 1988 and the adult industry, what took me down was a car crash. A simple, stupid crash that broke my nose.
Now, to an average person, a broken nose is a bummer where you wear a bandage, you get some flowers and move on. But for me? In my world?
I looked in the mirror and didn't see Number 19. I saw a girl who couldn't take a close-up. And in my line of work, the close-up is the pension plan so I panicked and I didn't just get a little sad, I went out with a bang, literally, self inflicted gun shot to the head.
So what did i leave behind? A few dozen porn tapes, a collection of very expensive leather jackets, and a Rolodex that looks like the guest list for a 1991 MTV Video Music Awards after-party.
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