Sorry I just dropped out like that. Things got really overwhelming really fast. Some crazy shit happened, not all good, not all bad. Now I’m living in NYC.

I have been more than a tiny bit aware that I have not updated this blog in way too long. I was also quite aware of the fact that very few people emailed / called asking if I was alive and well. Almost none of you questioned my disappearance. This saddens me. I suppose that very few of you actually see me as a person. I have been coming to terms with the reality of being a free jerk off site.

I’m still in the strip clubs, I’m sick to tears of people in ‘the real world’ judging my choices. I’m tired of being treated as a liability when I apply for housing. I’m sick of all of the bullshit that life has thrown my way lately.

I am not however all perved out. I’m in NYC. I live in NYC. This is fucking great.

If you are a wanker reading my site, enjoy, that is what it is there for. I’m not really sure what I want to do with this blog, with my life, or with all of the new opportunities that being in the city is providing. I’m at a crossroads.

All of the members of my cohort seem to be using their degrees and working on things that seem to matter to me. Some of them are working on progressive social justice issues and others are pursuing PhDs. I’m rotting, tossing and turning, not able to cope with some of the simple ‘musts’ of life that strike me as fascist bullshit.

I’m rambling to tell you that I’m back on the blog. That I’m in a mood. That I’m in NYC and I brought my shit kicking boots.

I need a place to work and a long term place to live.

I’m available for quick public golden showers. Thirsty?

Be my public toilet!

call me now

Widow Centauri
619.884.2376

I have been traveling a lot. Last update here suggests that I was in New Orleans, which I was and will be again soon. I am currently in Las Vegas for the weekend. I will be in New England for Easter weekend, then I head to NOLA for Jazz Fest, April 29th through May 10th. I will be dancing at Barely Legal again.

I’m getting antsy to be over this stripping thing for a while. I like the slutty aspects of it but my feet hurt, I’m bored with hanging out in bars and when I tell people who I am they either don’t believe me or they think I don’t need the money.
I’m not hanging out in strip clubs for my health.

Yes, it is fun, well it can be fun at times. I’m getting my pole dancing on, I have been able to have several very sexy encounters in the VIP rooms, and the overall experience of dancing naked for money is rather titillating.

But I’m bored with the repetitiveness of this. I have a financial goal that I am rapidly approaching. When I make the money (to pay the bill) I am going to have a hard time talking myself into doing this.

I’ in a position where if I’m going to keep dancing I should really loose another 20 pounds and get some fake tits. I’m not really sure I want to do that. I could dig loosing a few more pounds, maybe ten, not twenty. I don’t want to be a skinny bitch. My big phat juicy ass makes me happy. And fake tits? WTF? I’m not into the construct of plastic surgery as a viable method to achieve beauty. I like my tits – I have orgasms through nipple torture. I most certainly do not want to let some Dr cut on me so my boobs can meet the current standard of beauty that requires young women to feel inadequate and inspired to go under the knife. When male identified people start feeling inadequate and getting cut up by surgeons in the name of looking sexy for the attention of female identified people, then I might be persuaded. The guys who come into the club are generally so out of shape, sometimes they lack a lap to dance in, they come in with this huge distended gut that gives them more of a belly slide to work with. I can’t grind on that thing. If you don’t have enough self-respect and self-control to make having a lap a priority how in the hell can I justify a dangerous surgical procedure so that you like the way my boobs bounce?

Right. I’m almost over this gig.

In the meantime I need to figure out a new way to get the sex I enjoy. I’m not into having sex for free, in loving relationships. I need to have the element of business transaction to get me where I need to go. Stripping allows for a little bit of exhibitionism, a little bit of money, a little bit of anonymous sexual interaction, and if I don’t dig the dude I’m dealing with there is another one just around the corner. So how can I come to terms with the idea that I am a very sexual person but I’m looking for a certain kind of sexual experience that borders on the fringe of the law?

Stripping was doing it for me, for a second there. But I’m getting bored. Maybe you will come in and amuse me. Let me haul you around the club on a leash, spank you in front of a group of your friends, let me take you to the champagne room and give me all your money.
Come visit me in one of the clubs I dance in and amuse me. Get me out of this funk.

Also, I lost my phone. Email is the only way to contact me.

wcinsandyeggo@gmail.com

I have switched strip clubs. I am now at Barely Legal. This seems ironic to me but it is what it is. That’s where you can find me. Come in for some lap dances, chat me up, get a quick spanking or some public humiliation, foot worship, tease and denial. Sadly I cannot pull off public golden showers at this club unless we go into the champagne room. There are cameras everywhere, cept’ the CR. The champagne rooms start at about a grand and cap out at about ten grand. If you want to spend ten grand on me, we can make a plan to get together outside of this club. Come in for a totally sweet time, give me all your money, let’s make something sexy happen!

Speaking of something sexy ~~

I did my first public golden shower in nola today. A toilet boy who has been reading my blog sent me an email suggesting that he wanted to be used in public. So I meet him on the corner, with Mistress Ivy, my new apprentice (you will hear more about her soon). We go to head into an establishment that I have been wanting to piss in for a while. He stalls and says that he knows someone at that table.
I hate that shit, needy bitches.

So my little sexy plan is derailed. We head into the bar across the street to kill some time and make a new plan. We drink a beer, I think about the plan I want to enact. There are people and cops everywhere, there is almost no place to duck and pee. A parking garage would be perfect but they are monitoring so closely right now that I’m not sure three of us should head into that and play my dirty games. If it was two of us I would have done it but with my newbie dome along for the ride I don’t want to get caught.
So we walk, we sip our beers and when mine is done I fill the go cup with piss. I just slide it under my skirt and pee into it. It’s a big cup. Twenty ounces I would guess. I fill it all the way and had it to my toilet boy. Drink I tell him. He starts to drink, sips a little. “chug a lug” I tell him. “We have shit to do.”

He takes his pretty time drinking the piss, gags at one point. I’m happy. He is struggling to get the piss down. I really like the cup game, it messes with his head. I realize that I am happy. I enjoy this immensely. Ivy seems to be really entertained.
Toilet boy tells me that he cant’ finish it. There is an ounce of piss in the cup. If I had actually noticed that there was so little left I would have made him finish it. I tossed it on his shirt.

When we got back to our hotel room Ivy suggested that she saw him spill some of the piss out. If she had said something, if I had noticed, I would have refilled the cup and made him start over. I easily had two more of the giant go cups worth of piss in my bladder.
He said he would be back for more piss at six in the morning. I hope he does not chicken out. I want to drench him.

This adventure just happened moments ago. I thought I would update since I switched clubs and had a sexy time. A frustrating sexy time, but any piss game is a fun piss game. I still haven’t emptied my bladder completely. I guess I use the porcelain toilet.. Grrr.

Want to see me? Come to Déjà vu on Bourbon street. I am there most nights and a couple of days. Come early. I will be there on Wednesday and Thursday at 2:00 PM to account for the fact that some people want to catch me. Come in then, if you don’t see me ask for ‘Friday.’ That’s my stripper name.

~~

I am staying with some hippies, filthy scratchy hippies. The place I am in is supposed to be a bed and breakfast but it is nasty filthy. I want to write about the lack of hygiene but I’m going to save that till I’m not chowing on my dinner.

The hippies told me when I booked the room that the three weekend days before Mardi Gras the room was already booked (march 4 – 6). About five hours ago they tell me that the room is booked as of Thursday of this week. I just went to the supermarket, I’m in the middle of a whole mess of adventure and I have to find a new place to live before Thursday at 11:00 AM. Fuck me!

Once I’m out of here I’m going to create a new yelp profile and tell the internet all about the adventure – it really sucks. It is filthy, the people who run this joint are spacey, and the man of the BnB felt me up before I even introduced myself. Unwanted sexual attention sucks ass. This place sucks. I will never stay here again. They made themselves seem so generous before I got her but they have not cleaned my room since before the storm. It is gross, and without notice I have to leave. Notice would have been very helpful, two days when I have to get to the club is an impossibility. I don’t want to end up staying with someone from the club. Employee or patron. I’m really into a little bit of privacy. And darkness, don’t forget the need for darkness.

But I have been trolling cl and wasting time on fb all night. I need to take my newly acquired bike out to get a seat (yes I bought a bike without a seat) and call people about a place to live. I’ll be awake till noon. Ick. I’m toying with the idea of getting my own place here. The rent is super cheap and I could come and go – use nola as a hub for a little while. I kind of hope I can pull that off. I would like a place in the big easy. I love the city and I’m having a lot of fun at the strip club.

I want to be able to say something sexy, something coherent and worth reading, but I’m just kind of a mess. I feel a little bit sick. I’m all wrong right now. The sun will come up, I have to do day things like contact potential landlords / roomies / I have a day to move. I have a bike with no seat.

I have no idea where I am going to go cause these fucking hippies sprang this shit on me at the last minute – told me I could sleep on the porch. I can not sleep on the porch. I can barely sleep in the hippie loft bed even though I bought new sheets for it.

I’m in no shape to move all my shit across town. I need a place and I need a place now. This desperation is going to be a pain in the ass. What the fuck was I thinking coming to nola at the last minute for mardi gras? Oy! Maybe I am a drama queen. Did I come here so I could have this mess of drama but not do it to the whole of my life?

I’m gonna sign off and let you make what you want of this.

Depending on where I end up I might not have a lot of internet access but I will update with smut, adventures, and news as often as I can.
If you are in NOLA and want to see me – come to Déjà vu on Bourbon street. I will be there most nights and a couple of days. I was swamped last week and a regular who came in for me never got to see me – I was upstairs in VIP with some sexy dude form Oklahoma all night. If you really want to make sure to see me, come early. I will be there on Wednesday and Thursday at 2:00 PM to account for the fact that some people want to catch me. Come in then, if you don’t see me ask for ‘Friday.’ That’s my stripper name.

It’s slow during the daytime so I’ll have time to play with you. Wait till night time and you have to pay me more money to amuse me, if you can see me at all. It gets really packed and the club is pretty big.

Come see me, give me all your money, call me if you have a house I can live in.

I’m dancing at Deja Vu –226 Bourbon St.

I work under the alias “Friday”

I’m pretty much there all the time except for Mondays. If you are on your way in send me a text so I can keep an eye out for you. It is best to come in early. If you wait till later I might be busy.

See you at the Vu

Widow Centauri
619.884.2376

I know a lot of people have been saying that they want to come and play, but now is really the time to get to it. I’ll be dancing at the Mardi Gras II three more times and then heading to NOLA for Mardi Gras, the event.

You could put off coming in and say to yourself ‘she will be back in a month, we can play then’ but the reality is that every time I go to New Orleans I come a little bit closer to never leaving.

Since I booked my ticket something has changed in me. I am, for the first time in years, excited and dare I say, happy. I’m leaving this snowy run down mill town that pretty much requires me to dress in frumpy brown clothing all the time. I’m packing all my fun colorful things in a suitcase and I’m going to the most romantic city in the states. I’m heading to the big easy. After years of stress, I’m gonna go down there by myself and I might never come back. I know I really don’t want to. I want to be able to stay in NOLA and drink away my potential. I want to be in a vibrant city filled with artists and debauchery. I want to create things in a place where people won’t tell me I’m nuts. I want to embrace my authentic self (as that bubby good for nothing blond yoga teacher says). My bright clothing, rubber chicken slinging, beer for breakfast self. I want to stay there and I’m not even out the door yet.

It is snowing as I write this.

I’m in love with New Orleans. I have been since I first stepped foot there. It is only a matter of time before I just never return to wherever I was before. So you see, I’m still in New England. I love it here. I do. It’s just that, well, I have my favorite things in a bag, a ticket out of town, and …

I’m way too spontaneous and romantic for my own good. I’m going to go have an awesome time with myself. Yes, I will likely return to New England in mid-march, but I really don’t want to. Not now, probably not then either. I suppose it all depends on what sort of crazy and adventurous things happen to me in NOLA.

I’ll be at the Mardi Gras II in (ass fuck) CT – just north of Hartford on interstate 91, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday of this week.
I’ll be in NOLA on Valentines Day. I’m not a fan of Valentines Day unless it involves New Orleans. I have some iffy plans for Valentines Day so if you are reading this and what to know if I’m available to drink and wander the quarter with you – I am. See my rates and pay me well.