So I was downstaris doing my work, and I got a text message on my phone saying "come upstairs, I want to fuck you." I thought it was pretty hot. So I decided to take a break and go upstairs and fuck my boyfriend.
He was asleep. He had a day off today and when he takes the day off, he sleeps until like, 4 in the afternoon. I’m not kidding! I can’t sleep that late if I tried… and trust me, I have tried. It’s painful after like 2pm.
But his dick was still hard and even though his eyes were closed he still smiled, as if he was happy that I was there. So I kinda got on top of him and rode his dick for a little while, and then we filpped around and fucked in a few other positions… and then after like 15 minutes we kind of just stopped. This is pretty normal though… we don’t have sex like normal people do. He never cums, because he saves it for work. So we usually just have sex until we just don’t feel like it anymore. Sometimes it’s like an hour and sometimes it’s 10 minutes.
In any case, I went back downstairs. A few hours later he woke up. I was trying to be cute and was like "so, did you like having sex with me this morning?" And he was like, "what? we didn’t have sex this morning." I was like, yes we did… look you sent me a text message and then I came upstairs. I showed him the text message and that made him even more confused. He didn’t remember anything. He sent me a text message and fucked me in like 3 different positions, in his sleep.
You guys never cease to amaze me.
I directed 2 scenes this weekend for Cum on My Tattoo 3- which is turning out to be a super hot movie. One Saturday, I shot a girl named Presley Maddox, with 2 other hired penises… and she fucked the hell out of them, and they fucked the hell out of her. It was one big fuck the hell out of each other kind of fuck fest. It was really good. It is always nice to shoot girls who really love having sex… it makes me happy. She was totally nice and had a good sense of humor too… AND she even let me touch her boobs. It was awesome!
I have 2 more scenes to shoot for it. Cum on My Tattoo is sort of like my baby. I thought of the idea for it, and now I’m making my 3rd one in the series. I kind of started it as a joke, but now I am begining to think that cumming on tattooes is actually kind of hot. I think I invented a fetish!
So I had to do this radio interview this morning for some radio station in Philly. The XXXorcist is screening tonight at a theater there (The Roxy), so I thought this radio show would be good promo for it.
It turned out to be some radio station that was desperately trying to be like Howard Stern, but just didn’t do a good job of it. The thing about Howard, is that for the most part, he’s actually funny. These guys were retards.
One guy kept asking me if I was a crack whore, or if I resurrected the spirit of a crack whore in the movie… and I was like… I used to be but I’m not any more. It got old after a while. I don’t know what answer they were looking for, they kept bringing it up. Then they asked me a bunch of questions about if I liked black cocks better than white cocks and like, “if I would go trick or treating with them on HalloWEENIE”… and I wanted to tell them to get new jobs because what they were trying to do was clearly not working. I think I could make better degrading humor towards women, and I’m like… a feminist…. and that’s pretty sad. They weren’t laughing with me, they were laughing at me, and they weren’t even doing it well. It was pretty sad.
However, what is really sad about all this, is that I’m pretty sure a lot of people find this show funny, because that’s just the way the world is. People in general are pretty dumb, and are constantly surrounded by other dumb people which just makes them dumber. So this is why I must continue to make comical porn… people really need better things to laugh at. And I am no comical genius, but at least i don’t crack myself up when I call a girl a crack-whore on the air.
Joanna Angel, the Crack whore who likes black and white cock and Halloweenies
Last night I went to see Rancid play, at the Fonda Theater in Hollywood. I’ve probably seen Rancid like… oh I don’t know… about 20 times in my life. I’ve seen them in small clubs, big areas, and everything in between. About three years ago I became friends with Tim Armstrong (the singer and lead guitarist DUH!! for those of you who didn’t know) and he is definitely, one of the nicest people I have ever met in my life. He’s a lot nicer than even I am… and I think I’m pretty nice. I remember being in High School and going to see them play, and crawling all over people’s shoulders so I could see them. Now I am lucky enough to stand on the side of the stage and watch, so I get to see everything. Trust me- I don’t take it for granted. I maybe be a close friend of Tim Armstrong’s but I am a young and annoying fan of his at heart. I just have to hide it when we do stuff like eat lunch, and watch movies.
In any case, I thought I would share with you a little story about the first time I saw Rancid. It was when I was in 10th grade… how old are you in 10th grade? 14? 15? I don’t remember. I was on the track team. Yeah, I know… I am the last person you would think that would have anything to do with organized sports… but like, I was on the track team. My dad won some marathon when he was younger, so I think it meant something to him that I join the track team. I looked silly and didn’t really fit in. I had purple hair and usually ran in my converse sneakers, that had shiny silver laces, and writing all over them. On the rubbery white part on the bottom of the shoe, in magic marker, I wrote “conditioned to self interests with emotions locked away… if that’s what they call normal than I’d rather be insane…” If you don’t know where that’s from I’m not going to tell you…
I heard that Rancid was coming to town, and I was really excited. I waited for the day the tickets would go on sale, and as soon as they did I bought tickets. I didn’t think about what else I had going on because whatever it was it didn’t matter to me. I would have skipped my mom’s birthday, or like, yom kippur (and you know how bad that is when you grow up in a Jewish home), or I would have opted out of studying for any math test… or anything. So as it turned out, my track team had some super big important meet the day of the show. I think it was one of those meets against like, that one school my high school could never beat, and like, our coach had been gearing us up for them the whole season. When I told my coach (who didn’t really like me anyways) that I wasn’t going to be able to make the meet because I had a super important engagement to attend to, she told me that if I didn’t go to this meet I would get taken off the team.
I stood in her office, kind of not really knowing what to do. She said “you need to learn what your priorities are in life.” So I said, OK, you’re right… I do, as I thought to myself “Rancid first! Everything else second” and threw my uniform at her.
Ok so maybe I didn’t really throw it. I handed it to her and said good luck with the rest of the season. But in the version I told all my friends at the time, I threw my uniform at her… so if you run into anyone I went to 10th grade with, just stick with that story.
If there is one thing in life I really pride myself on, it’s my ability to do laundry. I told James he wasn’t even allowed to touch the laundry anymore, because I think the way he does it is slightly offensive. I took away his laundry privileges a few months ago, and since then his socks have been whiter, and the towels have been fluffier, and our clothes don’t get all staticky (was that a word?) and stiff. But the other day I turned his shirt pink. I don’t know if it was because I was lazy about separating things (which I usually don’t do), or if it was because I settled for some cheap laundry detergent i got at the dollar store. I had a feeling something like this would happen. It came in a red bottle and it was called “el rinso”… it looked really shady, I should have never gotten it.
I hid the shirt, and I’m trying to figure out what to do with it. I’m afraid if he finds it, he might take my laundry privileges away, and start doing it himself again. I know there is someway to de-pink shirts from laundry accidents, but I need to figure out how.
Can you give me any advice on this? QUICK! before he starts asking about his shirt…