measuring time in fuck-ups

Every year AVN comes along, and I always measure the great time I’ve had by the experiences I either remember, or don’t remember. This year, three things happened that made it a fantastic year. Well, more than that, but I chalk my AVN up to these three incidents.
backstage at AVN awards
NUMBER ONE: The first night of the show, a thursday night, I got shitfaced with my dear friend Jew Hefner. We hit up Lavo in Palazzo with a bunch of old friends, TJ Derida, Sarah Stone, Tera Patrick, Fran Derek and the whole LA Direct crew, and Rachel Roxxx just to name a few. After the party, well actually during the party, I started drinking vodka redbulls. Now here is the problem. Before landing in Vegas I decided that THIS year, I must not drink ANY redbull vodka because every time I get even a drop of that shit in me I black out. So this years drink was Crown and Coke. Easy enough right? well, somewhere in the evening I made the switch over to Redbull Vodka, and DWAMMMMO. Black as Kunta pre-Civil War. Fucking dark as the night is long. But I woke up in my bed. Alone. With both my shoes, all my credit cards, and my panties (albeit soaked) still in place.

I call Jew.


“I fuckin made it yo! I didn’t fuck no one, I made it home all on my own, and I didn’t do anything I can hate myself for now!!!”


“You made it home all on your own and didn’t do anything you’ll regret? HA! I walked your ass home, after six different elevators, AND after you lit me on fire!”

Turns out that while Jew was in the process of walking me home, I became angry with the cigarette I was smoking and threw it on the ground. Well, I thought it was the ground. Turns out that burning little death tube lodged itself in Jews pant cuff. So after ten minutes of smoldering, his pants had fully caught on fire. Thanks to the booze, neither one of us noticed. But the guys behind us did.

Guys behind us:

“Hey dude, your pants are on fire.”


“No they aren’t!”

His pants were most definitely on fire, and sure as shit, when he looks down and sees his jeans burned up to his knee, he starts stomping on them to put the fire out.

I am trashed and think it is a game, a great game of foot stomping, and so I join in the stomping and kicking.


“Yo, I had to physically restrain you from jumping on my feet and laughing because you were so trashed. AND THEN you took me to six different elevators, insisting that they all led to different places, and you had to call your boy Brando to find out your room number. When he told you he didn’t know you asked if you could come up and bone him. I guess it was a no, cuz you handed me the phone, he told me where you live and low and behold, your drunk ass made it home.”

Good to know.

During the Internext show, Porno Dan introduced me to this dancing monkey I kindly refer to as the Italian. He had a fresh test, and Dan said he was a present for me, to do with as I like. I love Dan. So after a night of making him dance for every person I ran across, and if you roll with me, you know I run into maaaaaaaad fools, I decided to take the Italian home for some meaningless drunk sex. I tell him something special while we are fucking.


“Listen, after we are done fucking you have to go cuz I’m not trying to do all that snuggle shit with you okay?”

So after we fuck, he gets up to use the pisser and I crash out, assuming he fucking got it and would be on his way out. I wake up in the morning, and who is still in bed with me? THE FUCKING ITALIAN. Fucking rude man, I take his clothes and stand at my door pointing with one hand, holding his shit with the other, yelling at him. He replies….

Italian dancing monkey:

“But Penny, I was just so tired! It was 6am!”


“You think I give a fuck? get your shit and go motherfucker! I said no snuggles!”

Italian dancing monkey:

“Okay, I go, but do you want my number? Maybe you call me?”


“How the fuck am I going to call you if I don’t even know your name? Now OUT Italian!”

When presents go wrong.

Every year I lose my voice. Its a mixture of drinking, smoking and yelling, and sure enough by day two I’m always at a whisper. This year I said fuck it, and brought a megaphone. And boy did it help. Everything was going well, with the megaphone that is, because I megaphoned everything, (that’s right, megaphone is now a verb), from my grand entrance to any building, bathrooms included, “Penny Flame is entering the bathroom,” to signing autographs “Who shall I make it to?” (fans taking a step back a bit confused), to climbing in bed with Amy Reid at 5am, whispering through the megaphone “Are you up? Play with me!!!!” Everything was splendid in terms of loudness and attention grabbing until the second I didn’t want to be noticed at all. Fucking Grande Lux.

I walk into Lux with my boy Shameless to grab a quick bite before the AVN show, the show in which I had intended on megaphoning Tera Patrick on stage while we presented together (bet your sweet ass she’s thanking her lucky stars with this story….), and the waitress decides to seat us. Right. Next. To. Christian.

Now, I’m in my underwear, slippers and a bathrobe, megaphone and drinks in hand, and purse slung over the shoulder, and this waitress starts to seat us at the table literally next to his.

I freak out.

Drop everything in my hands.

“I don’t wanna sit there, I don’t wanna be anywhere near him.”

Drink, megaphone parts and batteries all over the floor while I crawl hands and knees in my bathrobe and slippers, trying to put my favorite thing on earth back together.

She thinks I’m kidding, and starts to put our menus down.

“No, I’m fucking serious, do you think I would break my megaphone if I didn’t really care, I’d rather eat in the bathroom than next to him!!!”

She realizes the seriousness of my situation and drops everything to help me gather the megaphone parts. And when I say parts I mean parts. Like six. and then four D batteries which I am not willing to purchase, so I need EVERYTHING up off the floor. She helps me gather myself, I’m flustered, bright red, and everyone in the restaurant is looking at the chick in the bathrobe freaking out over the broken megaphone. We are seated next to these lovely Brits, in town for just a few hours, and the guy next to me notices my upset little face.

Guy next to me:

“You get locked out of your room?”


“I wish. At least I could get a new key. no, I saw someone I dislike strongly and in the process of running away dropped my megaphone, the most important thing on earth. Now nobody will be able to hear me.”

Fortunately, the good people at Metro had enough know how and electrical tape to piece back together, the only thing I’ve ever really cared about. So I got my voice back, (although not in time to megaphone Tera on stage at AVN, which was okay, because I motorboated her tits instead) and continued being kicked out of every bar I ventured in because I was the only one the bartenders could hear clearly.

Over all, I must say. I am pretty pleased with the way things went. At least I think so.

Because everyone likes a dog with a lamp on her head


~ by Penny Flame on January 18, 2009.

12 Responses to “measuring time in fuck-ups”

  1. I’d like to think you’d let me stay and snuggle..

  2. The megaphone is pure brilliance.

  3. well meeting you at AEE was the bomb and as I said to you, reading these missives makes my day – Peter

  4. I heart the megaphone… just not at dinner. 🙂

  5. Would you believe it has always been my dream to spend a day walking around communicating only through a magaphone? Thank you for living my dream.

  6. you are so pretty and sexy you are the cutest thing in the bussiness

  7. I was watching the coverage of AEE on G4 last weekend and they showed a few clips of you. I’m not gay, but your dress at the AVN’s was fantastic. I know if you read this and you ask “why weren’t you in Vegas for me?” my only reply is I’m poor as fug! I wouldn’t handle one whole night in sin-city let alone a whole weekend during AEE! But I assure you, I will make it a goal to go to AEE one time in my lifetime Ms. Flame! On that note, enjoy your night…and spark up some of the stickiest of the ickiest for me!

  8. I love your beautiful feet; to kiss your soles would be heaven.

  9. Heard you on Howard last week and you were very funny.

  10. this is Zzzzzz

  11. i love the blog and have read all the posts but i think that a person as interesting as penny flame can blog more than once a month. you have your dog, your pot fetish, porn career, random hookups that do or don’t happen (brando…lucky bastard)and a few family issues that your fans might like to hear about. i’m not trying to be a bully here but i check your site every week and you haven’t been putting anything up. you were more vigilant when you were on xcritic, i would’ve thought you’d be a little more gung-ho on yur own!! i’ll always be a fan of the porn, but i’m starting to be a fan of the writing…. don’t leave me hanging! later.

  12. You should be given a medal. With the collective shifty times that we are living through your writtings and humor certainly distract from the heavy load. Thanks.

    PS You should consider publishing your writtings.

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