I buy and sell domain names. One of my inspirations had to do with a method of smoking pot with a vaporizer: VaporizationSystems.com. A company from New Jersey made an offer on the domain which I accepted. They promptly mailed me a check which was not signed. I notified them of the error and received this response:

"i am sorry, my accounting dept must be smoking something. i will tell them to resend and sign the damn check."

That gave me my chuckle for the day.

- XXOO Tanya

Here I am in my championship boxing form (see pic above.) I recently became the top-ranked female boxer of the Denav Women's Boxing League! Don't believe me? Check the rankings page at the Denav site:


freeweb.supereva.com/dwblg/index.htm?p


I'd like to give a special thanks to my manager, Chairman Andy, for encouraging me to get up off the barstool and resume by boxing career!



- XXOO Tanya

Over the past week I had been posting stuff about my friend Tyson's submission wrestling event that took place last Friday. I had bought a number of tickets to go watch it with some friends, but then my cat Larry experienced kidney failure on Thursday. He is back home now and is recuperating, but I went through a rough, anxious stretch of days last week as I agonized over his illness and prayed that he would get better. I had purchased seven tickets to Tyson's event, but I ended up going there with just my friend Tim at the last minute because I never invited anyone else to come along. Larry had been too sick for me to bother about making any plans ahead of time. The event was well underway when Tim and I arrived. I gave my name to the woman at the "will call" booth and she told me she could not find my tickets. She shrugged her shoulders and stared insolently at me through the plexiglass screen. My emotions were already fried because of Larry's illness and I just turned and stomped away after a few minutes of trying to reason with her. I returned a short while later to vent my spleen over the situation. She just stared at me dumbly throughout my tirade. Tim alternately watched me, looked at her, and looked away. I knew he was wishing that he was someplace else.

Tim and I never went into the venue. The next day I told Tyson about how fucked up I thought the situation was. At first he just laughed. Later, after he heard similar comments from other people, he asked me to write him an e-mail describing my experience. This is what I wrote to him:

Tyson,

I became extremely upset by the cavalier attitude of the personnel in the ticket booth at your event. As you know I had paid for over $500 worth of tickets and arrived to discover that the woman in the ticket booth could not find them. She did a cursory search for them, smiled, uttered an insincere apology, smiled again, and waited for me to leave. It was readily apparent that she could care less that I had paid for tickets that were unavailable to me. Common sense dictates that I'm probably not the only person to whom she behaved so rudely. Initially I stormed off in disgust. How many other people did that? The only reason you are hearing about this is because I know you personally. The only reason I approached the ticket booth a second time is because I know you.

On my return visit to the ticket booth either my friend Tim or I revealed that I was your friend. Perhaps one of us had said it during our first visit. I don't remember and it does not really matter. My anger was due to the fact that the woman in the booth had initially treated us with such disregard and had not even bothered to try and figure out why the tickets were missing. In the end I found myself imploring her to understand that it was completely absurd for a paying customer to arrive at an event and be greeted with such utter indifference. She stared at me blankly for an extended period of time. One of the event coordinators had appeared in the booth at some point and the insipid woman had informed her that I was "Tyson's friend." This event coordinator offered to take me into the venue.

What happened to the people who did not happen to be one of your personal friends? The ones who paid for tickets and had to deal with that type of careless attitude? I had not arrived there expecting special treatment from anyone. I had paid for tickets to support your show and so I could sit and watch people wrestle. It should not have been necessary for me to become angry or mention that I had a connection to you. My attitude that night would have been completely different if the woman in the ticket booth had initially behaved in a respectful manner when she could not locate the tickets. She did not. I mention all this because I really think you should be aware of it.

People often pay for a membership to one of my websites and cannot get in for various reasons (lost password, technical snafu, etc.) I'd want to know about it if my webmaster did not deal with their situation in an effective, diplomatic manner.

Tanya

So there it is. Lately I've felt the need to express my emotions. I've had a gag in my mouth on plenty of other occasions.

- XXOO Tanya

Here I am practicing my cream application for a live wrestling event this Friday night, November 17 in Los Angeles. My friend Tyson is co-promoter of the event and he hired me and another model to wrestle in creamy lotion for the halftime show. Hopefully I can submit my busty opponent in record time. I've been training really hard.

Haha- just kidding! I'll be at the event, but I'm not doing any wrestling. All of the competitors are world champions in their given sport. UFC champion Randy Couture, jiu-jitsu blackbelts Marcelo Garcia and Jacare, plus many other world-class martial artists are all on the card.

Visit Tyson's site
www.ProSubLeague.com
to buy tickets or see purchase information for the the live webcast of the event!



- XXOO Tanya

Who are these guys? Is it possible that they are event promoters? Yeah, they do actually look the part, don't they? The one with the jolly, fat face is my friend Tyson and he would like to invite you to an incredible event he is promoting in Los Angeles on Friday, November 17.

Tyson is the Vice President of the Professional Submission League which features world-class martial artists in submission wrestling bouts. This event speaks for itself. The title match will feature none other than UFC fighting legend Randy Couture vs. Brazilian jiu-jitsu World Champion Jacare!


Please visit Tyson's site
www.ProSubLeague.com
for all ticket information.



- XXOO Tanya

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Sometimes strippers walk off the stage in the middle of a song because they feel that the customers are not tipping them enough. Sometimes they start yelling at the customers from the stage because they feel the customers are not tipping them enough. There is a sign in the backstage area of the club where I dance that says: "Dancers who insult customers from the stage will be sent home. You are professionals so act like it." The second sentence on that sign always strikes me as a bit of wishful thinking on the part of the management whenever I see it.

People in general engage in all types of self-defeating behavior. I'm sure that I'm no exception, but I try not to sabotage myself when I'm onstage dancing half-naked or naked. Perhaps I try to avoid manifesting my despair in public. I just write about it when no one is around.

Years ago I was dancing at the Century Theatre in Los Angeles. One night I ended up being the last dancer to go onstage before the club shut down for the night. That seemed to happen to me a lot at that particular club. My music started playing and I heard the deejay ask the customers to "please welcome the last lady of the evening." I parted the curtains and made my grand entrance.

"Here she is, gentleman! Tanya will be the last lovely lady up on the stage for you tonight." he said in his deep baritone voice as I began dancing.

I made eye contact with a man sitting towards the front of the room and smiled at him. He gazed back at me, looked me up and down, turned to his friend and jerked his head toward the door. They stood up and started to leave. Their departure seemed to trigger a mass exodus from the room. Every other man in the place appeared to be heading for the door. I kept dancing, hoping someone would stay. I went down into the splits, rolled around on the floor for a minute and came back up. By the time I resurfaced the whole room was empty. My song played on. I caught the eye of the manager who was cleaning up something behind the bar. He motioned for me to keep on dancing. That didn't make any sense, but the Century Theatre was a strange place back in those days. Everyone tried to adhere to the remarkably arbitrary and senseless rules of the owner, Howard White. My personal belief was that Howard revelled in making up weird guidelines for the dancers and management just to infuse some needless drama into the place for his own amusement. In any case, I didn't want to get the manager in trouble and I kept on dancing on the stage inside that empty room.

It had been demoralizing to see those customers evaluate me and then leave, but I did not want to capitulate to my disappointment or humiliation or annoyance or indignation or whatever it was. Stripping is a profession where you have to be tough as nails and not look like it. As I kept dancing I told myself that I'd have a better night the following evening when I returned for my next shift. That positive affirmation, (gosh, I hate that term), relaxed me and I just enjoyed the music and finished my first song. At some point midway through the second song I noticed a stack of twenties in the corner of the stage on the floor. Huh? Where had that come from? I looked over to see a row of familiar-looking men watching me with polite appreciation. Sometimes that happens. It took me a minute to make sense of it but then I realized that they were the plumbers who had been arriving at 2AM each night to repair something in the building. They could not do the work during the club's business hours so they always showed up around closing time. Their boss was a remarkably nice guy and either he brought out the best in his crew or he attracted people who were similar in nature to himself. Either way, they were a group of unusually cool guys.

They watched me dance, my song ended, I smiled at them, they applauded, and I thanked them. The memory of that night is burned into my brain. I have always regarded it as a sign not to lose my emotional connection with dancing. And as a sign not to lose hope.

Maybe they gave me the money as a sympathy tip. Or maybe they enjoyed my dancing. Or maybe both.

Dancing has given me a lot. I cannot even envision what my life would have been if I had not become a stripper because all those experiences inside a strip club are so integral to who I am as a person. The modelling and adult videos I've done just seem kind of incidental.

I was wearing sheer white stockings and a garter belt that night at the Century Theatre. That was something of a rarity because I rarely ever wear stockings when I dance. The pic above reminds me of that fateful evening because I'm wearing stockings and rolling around on a well-trafficked floor. I know it does not sound attractive, but I've rolled around on a lot of grimy floors. Floors get dirty after each of 100 dancers parade across them multiple times in the course of a given day.


Join my archive site
www.JackOffLand.com to see the full "Stocking Feet" gallery now!


I hope that I am always the girl who keeps on dancing, that I never give up hope.



- XXOO Tanya

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In June, 2006 I dragged my friend Tyson with me out to Pomona, CA to look at some old houses. He could care less about historic homes in general, but even he was impressed by the grace of some of the amazing places we saw. We were starving by the time we hit Interstate 10 to drive home. As we were discussing what to eat I saw a Hooter's restaurant directly ahead of us on the righthand side of the freeway.

"Have you ever been to a Hooter's?" I asked.

"No, I've never been to a Hooter's." he replied.

"Let's go to Hooter's." I said as I cut across 5 lanes of traffic to get to the next exit.

Upon entering Hooter's there was no immediate indication that we had made an ill-fated decision. The hostess happened to seat us by the waitress' pantry area where Tyson could ogle the servers wearing their giant orange pantaloon shorts and shiny, flesh-colored tights. Our own waitress was a very pretty brunette with waist-length hair and a nice figure. Everything seemed fine as Tyson and I relaxed with our drinks and ordered our meal. Shortly afterwards the waitress came back and unexpectedly sat down at our table. Tyson and I abruptly stopped talking and smiled at her. She did not seem to have much to say so he and I began making tortured attempts at conversation. Somehow I ended up divulging that we had never been inside a Hooter's before.

"Oh, this is your first time?" the waitress asked. "We'll do something special for you."

I found myself vaguely hoping that the special treatment did not involve singing. Just then an old Village People song started playing at a loud volume inside the restaurant.

"Oh, no. It's time for the YMCA." the waitress said as she wrinkled her nose with genuine dismay.

Tyson and I exchanged blank looks and she hopped up from our table. Soon every server in the establishment was standing on top of a barstool performing a synchronized dance routine to the YMCA song. All their orange-clad butts gyrated above our table. Yep, our waitress was definitely the thinnest and the prettiest. Most of the patrons in the place, 95% of whom were male, stared at the waitresses with unwavering, zombie-like attention. These men were not smiling. It seemed that they were attempting to burn the images of the dancing women into their brains.

Peace reigned for a brief time after the YMCA dance ended, but then three waitresses and a manager materialized at our table. They congratulated us on our first-time visit, placed a tinfoil crown on Tyson's head, and began tying balloons into my hair. The balloons lifted 3 sections of my hair into the air and I looked like a complete idiot. I glanced across the table at Tyson who must have felt equally ridiculous in his foil crown. For some unknown reason he and I felt compelled to "be good sports" and keep our adornments attached to our heads. I have no idea why.

Our food arrived. We began eating. Someone in the room grabbed a microphone and announced that a bachelor party was present. A cheer went up as the voice promised a special treat for the bachelor who was being escorted to a makeshift stage right at that moment. All of a sudden our pretty waitress was at our table grabbing my arm and telling me that there was another surprise and I was going up on the stage. Startled, I laughed and politely resisted her as she tried to drag me from my chair. She was pulling hard and was utterly convinced that I was going to follow her. My mind had no time to make sense of it all, but I was not going up on any stage. I tried to shrug her off and jokingly pointed at Tyson who was wearing a bemused but puzzled expression underneath his foil crown.

"He'll do it." I said."You both can do it!" she exclaimed and grabbed Tyson's arm too.

She really wasn't kidding and she kept trying to jerk us towards the stage area. Finally I indicated my refusal in a tone of voice that left no room for doubt. She dropped our arms and glared at me with malice in her eyes. Then she turned on her heel and stormed off. Tyson and I stared at each other in disbelief. Right at that moment a man with a pen in his hand approached our table and asked me to sign his napkin. I turned my gaze on him. Did he think I was one of the waitresses? Was this some other weird Hooter's tradition where male customers asked all female patrons to sign their napkins? Who was this guy? Who did he think I was? Couldn't I just take the balloons out of my hair and eat my six microscopic clams? I looked at the man with puzzlement and lamely reiterated his question back to him.

"You want me to sign your napkin?" I asked."Yes, please." he said politely.

"Um..why?" I wondered aloud, not knowing what to say.

"You're the adult actress Tanya Danielle, aren't you?" he responded a bit uncertainly.

Several long moments of silence elapsed.

"No. No, I'm not." I said.

The man apologized and left. Tyson told me I had been kind of rude.

"Nobody knows who I am. I didn't know what to do." I said. I was really flustered.

"Yeah, you're right." he said after a short pause. "That was definitely weird.

"Tyson shook his head and removed his foil crown. He helped me untie the balloons from my hair and they floated up to the ceiling. We finally finished eating and waited for the waitress to return with our bill. She never came back. I left to search for her and found her slumped dejectedly over one of the tables at the bar with her chin on her hand. She agreed to bring the bill. When she dropped it off at our table she informed us with a trace of hostility that she had merely wanted us to do the hokey-pokey onstage earlier. Neither Tyson nor I had a response to that. I picked up the bill and happened to notice some text on it directing me to a website where I could fill out a customer satisfaction survey. We paid and left.

Cameraman Mike Raffone shot the pic above in 2004 during the filming of a custom video. A gentleman had sent me a Hooter's uniform to wear as wardrobe to accompany his script. I would have had much more perspective on my role if I had ever gone to a Hooter's restaurant before the shooting of the video..



Join my archive site
www.JackOffLand.com to see the full Hooter's gallery now!



- XXOO Tanya