"What if the hokey-pokey really is what it's all about?"
I stared at that message for an hour on the 405 freeway as I slowly made my way into the San Fernando Valley. It was on a bumper sticker affixed to the car in front of me and it was a valid question. Every time I tried to stop thinking about it my mind would find another angle of the issue to examine. Life really could be as much about the hokey-pokey as anything else. I tried fruitlessly to remember all the lyrics of the hokey-pokey song. It was a song, right? What exactly was the hokey-pokey anyways? It was a dance, right? Is it still a dance? Does anyone remember that song besides me? Evidently so, given the fact that someone made a bumper sticker to commemorate it. Or was their hokey-pokey different from my hokey-pokey? I didn't even really remember what my hokey-pokey was. I kinda sorta did, but I wouldn't have wanted to bet money that I was entirely correct.
It was eery how long I was behind the car with the hokey-pokey sticker. For a short while I became nervous that the driver might be going the same place I was. It would have been downright unsettling if the person turned out to be a friend of cameraman Mike Raffone. Fortunately the driver continued going straight as I turned on to Mike's street. I parked and headed into the shoot with my bag full of stripper gear. On this day I'd be shooting a sex scene with sweet, sexy Cherokee.
The scene should have gone well because I love working with Cherokee, but I could not shake off the hokey-pokey conundrum and enjoy the sex. She started getting mad and our scene quickly degenerated into a busty battle for supremacy..
Who won this impromptu catfight? Join my archive site www.JackOffLand.com to find out!
- XXOO Tanya
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