Carla Fontaine's Second Act

F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote "In life, there is no second act," but since my life as Carla Fontaine is largely a fantasy, I think I should have as many acts as I wish. This past weekend, I spent most of my time regrouping to launch my second act. I realized that I was approaching this assignment in a half-hearted way, primarily because I was repulsed by the character I have been asked to play. There was no serious commitment on my part. I was going through the motions, hoping that we might ensnare one of these characters that The Colonel is looking for and he'll call me home. After the fiasco of last week, it's obvious that this is not going to be that easy and I may be in this role for the long haul.

To that end, I've placed more focus on improving my "web presence" by researching better makeup techniques and wardrobe choices. After spending five years in the Navy, I had gotten used to wearing a minimal amount of makeup and dressing rather conservatively. When I started doing the web cam stuff, I tarted myself up the way I imagined a porn star would look and, similarly, bought some cheesy lingerie which I hastily grabbed off the racks without much consideration. This time out, I consulted some people and looked at some actual "high end" pornography to see how the pros do it. I'm going for a look somewhere between slutty and sophisticated. Hopefully, the new look and a serious commitment to my performance might improve my chances of nabbing the right targets. I also need to plan the scenarios better so these guys won't get suspicious or slip away.

Anyhow, that's ongoing. Also ongoing is Lucky's charming but slightly annoying courtship routine. I figured I'd  put him to the test by taking me to an upscale fine dining establishment. There were so many to choose from in Vegas, but I decided on Mesa Grill because I've been watching Bobby Flay on the Food Network since I was a teenager. He sort of came across as a bit of a jerk to me, but I was curious about all his sauces and those "big, bold flavors" that he's going on about all the time. I have to say, the experience was really wonderful and I have a new found respect for the guy. I had the "hacked" chicken with the five spiced mole and Lucky ate the coffee rubbed filet mignon. Both dishes were terrific, but I was actually coveting Lucky's steak. I'll have to see if I can recreate that coffee rub sometime.

Not only was the food great, but the servers were friendly and attentive as well. That's almost as important to me as the food. After a few glasses of wine, Lucky seemed less grating as well. I know I must sound completely bi-polar about this guy, but I truly am on the fence about whether I really like him or not. After this romantic dinner, he takes me back to his trailer to watch Elvis in Charro!. He thought it would fit in with the Southwest theme of our dinner. It's sort of sweet, but kind of strange too. There's so much artifice to him, I want to knock on his forehead and shout, "Hello, is the real Lucky - or whatever your real name is - actually in there?" Maybe even he doesn't really know.

Of course, the big event of the week came on Wednesday night. It's way too complicated to go into here, so I think I'll save that for one of my short stories. The day was going along routinely: I had a conference call with some people in DC, ran over to the gym for a 2-hour workout, and then stopped by a 7-11 on the way home for a candy bar (I know, but my sugar was low). On the way to my car, I found my neighbor's dog poking around by the dumpsters. After a bit of a struggle, I rounded the critter up and took him back to his owner's apartment. Things got pretty weird after that and I can't help but suspect that The Colonel put me in that apartment underneath that crazy old lady on purpose. He has a funny way of putting me in places where strange things happen.

The upshot of it was that her apartment caught fire and spread across most of her floor. My apartment was downstairs, so it was not too badly damaged, but because I was at the scene, the landlord blamed me and kicked me out.

By yesterday afternoon, my belongings were packed into my tiny Tercel and I was essentially homeless. Feeling at loose ends, I called Lucky to grumble and he offered to take me in. Naturally, I was hesitant, but I really didn't want to have to look for a new place. So here I am, typing this blog post in the spare bedroom of Lucky's double wide. Now I just have to figure out how I can conduct my web cam work without him finding out about it.