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Sara Jane Woodall aka Wonderhussy
Model and actress from Las Vegas in sexy and nude pics
Sara Jane Hamilton - Classic Bondage Mix
Sara St James aka Jacqueline Lovell
A mix of pics of hot 50 something Audrey (aka Jane)
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I’ve had a lot of people asking me about buying stickers, hats, t-shirts and such…only problem was, I never had the time to set up an online store! Thankfully, my sis stepped in to help, and designed some stuff for me…if interested, you can check it out here:
https://www.zazzle.com/store/wonderhussy
When I logged in to write this post, I also realized there were bunch of comments I had never responded to…apologies for that! WordPress apparently doesn’t notify me about EVERY comment…just sometimes :-/
In any event, I don’t update this site much, because it has been marked as an “adult” website, so I can’t use Google AdSense or link it to my YouTube channel
Even if I deleted all my old blog posts and photos, there is realistically no way to “un-adult” this URL…so sadly, I’ll have to start from scratch with a brand new website…and a new URL. Boooo!
Check out this interview I did with Ben Spillman of the Reno Gazette-Journal!
I had to go all the way up to Reno to get some love from the press…..the paper down here in Vegas is a joke. Here’s the link to the writeup they did:
Reno gets bagged on a lot, but it’s actually a really cool little town with a lot of beautiful outdoors terrain in every direction. It’s one of my favorite cities in Nevada…along with Vegas, Tonopah, Wadsworth, Winnemucca, Fallon, Fernley, Lovelock, Laughlin, Gabbs, Goldfield, Elko, Ely, Pioche and Panaca!
Ahhhh, who the hell am I kidding?? I love EVERYWHERE in Nevada <3
I’ve been getting a lot of emails from people lately, asking if I’m OK…because I haven’t posted any new blogs in awhile.
I am definitely still around, but I’ve been having SO MANY ADVENTURES lately that I haven’t had time to write about them! I went on a 3-week cross-country road trip, hiked to a plane crash site in Death Valley for a Canadian scavenger hunt, played a nagging pregnant yoga wife in a porn movie, went to Disneyland and am now working on a new performance of my Electric Vagina at the BEquinox festival in Joshua Tree next week. Whew!
Additionally, I am working on a sort of quirky, NSFW web series with my photographer friends Mike and Kit, who have already posted a bunch of stuff on their Vimeo page. If interested, check those out here. The official web series episodes aren’t up yet, but will be soon — and they wrote a REALLY bad ass theme song about me for it
But really, what I’ve been spending most of my time on is my YouTube channel! Ever since I realized I could make money off it last fall, I’ve been focusing more on vlogging than blogging. It was somewhat of a bummer to realize that most people prefer watching video to reading scathingly well-crafted diatribes…..but that’s the reality, and I needs to pay my bills! So I’ve been spending most of my blogging time vlogging instead.
Most of my top-earning videos feature my exploration of abandoned buildings, ghost towns, mills, mines and factories. This genre of video is called “urbex,” short for “urban exploration,” and I had never heard of it until I uploaded that video at the abandoned mineral resort up near Jackpot, NV last July. I got such a great response from that video, it made me start to think I should make more videos, and…..here we are!
I also post a lot of videos featuring me wandering around different interesting places in the desert and the world in general. If interested, you can subscribe to my YouTube channel and follow me there…..
Or, if you want to stay up to date with scathing mini-diatribes, you can also follow my Facebook page. I know everyone’s not on Facebook, but it’s the easiest platform to post stuff while on the go, so that’s what I’ve been using.
On my cross-country trip, in Marfa, TX
If you’re not offended by my nude photos, then you can also follow me on Instagram, where I upload censored/PG-13 stuff several times a week….and on Tumblr, where I post my uncensored nudes.
Anyway, I can’t WAIT to blog about my 3-week roadtrip and my Canadian plane crash adventure — both are GREAT stories! But in the meantime…..
There I sat, glumly gobbling glop in a silent mess hall full of equally glum glop-gobblers, a knit watchman’s cap pulled down over my makeup-less face and nothing to look forward to but my daily walk in the yard. Re-reading the fine print on my lemon-ginger herbal tea bag for the 1,000th time, it occurred to me that there’s a fine line between glum and pious…and that though we were all here voluntarily, this meditation retreat was basically just a minimum-security New Age Prison for White People. Navel-gazing is the new black!
Of course, I’m being facetious — my fellow glop-gobblers weren’t all white; there were a few east Indians among us, an Asian or two, and at least one Mexican. But the overwhelming majority of those seeking peace at this silent Buddhist meditation retreat were whiter than almond milk, and the irony was not lost on me. Enlightenment is classic Stuff White People Do!
This was, of course, my long-awaited Vipassana retreat in the mountains of Northern California: ten days of nothing but meditation from the time they gong you awake at 4am until they finally let you pass out in bed around 9:15pm, and all in complete silence. No talking, no physical contact, no eye contact, no communication of any kind whatsoever. No reading, no writing, no cell phones, no laptops. No sex, no drugs, no rock-n-roll — nothing but meditation!
Vipassana is actually a really interesting meditation technique in that they don’t try to sell you anything or make you chant corny catchphrases or anything like that. It’s more or less grounded in reality and science, and the people who teach it are basically squares — no beards, beads, loincloths, etc; in fact, the guy who introduced Vipassana to the West resembles nothing so much as your typical east Indian Silicon Valley H-1B software engineer. It’s basically just a technique which helps one to focus on the reality of one’s body — no spiritual mumbo-jumbo, and minimal psychobabble.
Moreover, the Vipassana retreats themselves are free of charge — aside from teaching and guiding you in the meditation technique, they also provide comfortable, heated accommodations with hot showers and 2.5 fantastic vegetarian meals per day…for free! At the end of the course, they almost casually mention the fact that your retreat was paid for by the students who came before you, and that if you want to donate toward the next students, you are welcome to give what you can. But they definitely don’t strong-arm you — there’s no need, as there is no shortage of enthusiastic graduates plenty eager to spread Vipassana to as many people as possible.
Those who undertake a 10-day retreat must surrender all their tech devices (they secure them for you), and agree to abide by five principles for the duration of the course:
You also agree to observe what is called Noble Silence (no speaking or otherwise communicating with other students, though you can talk to a teacher or course manager if you have a problem with anything)…and you agree to stay within the boundaries of the course property for the entire ten days. Of course they can’t force you to stay — if you have a medical or family emergency, you can leave. But they really, strongly encourage you not to leave until the entire course is complete…and to that end, it’s a bit like being in prison — or more aptly, pri-Zen.
And of course even more aptly….pri-Zen for White People. I mean, what other prison feeds you tofu steaks and sautéed kale??
My friend and I just before the retreat began
Anyway, I enrolled in the course hoping it would help me chill out; as you know I lead a very high-octane life, and as a result have problems sleeping. My sister had taken a course before, so I had an idea of what I was in for and wasn’t fostering any unrealistic expectations — but I did go in with a positive mindset, thinking to give Vipassana a fair shot. I loaded up on cozy knitted ethnic ponchos, jammed a fair-trade kombucha-hemp suppository up my ass and carpooled the 10 hours from Vegas in the Mini Cooper of an NPR journalist friend who was taking the course for his second time. We blew through the desert and the red-state part of California, up into the misty, majestic vineyards of Napa Valley; nothing but moss-covered faux chateaux and the smell of Enlightenment wafting from the quaint stone chimney of every Michelin-starred restaurant we passed. So far, so good!
To stifle my inner cynic, from pretty much the moment I set foot on the retreat property I pulled my aforementioned watchman’s cap down low over my eyes — as low as I could while still being able to see where I was going, but low enough to where I wouldn’t be tempted to peek at the other students’ faces and make cynical judgments based on their appearances. And to avoid being the subject of their cynical judgments, I topped the utilitarian dollar-store beanie with a colorful and funky but structurally inefficient knitted ethnic coverup cap — when in Rome, etc!
Either way, of course, it didn’t work. Though I could only see my fellow students from the waist down, you can tell a lot about a man by his shoes….and $150 Uggs, furry leg warmers, Lululemon leggings and North Face jackets tell you all you need to know. Additionally, Noble Silence didn’t start until a few hours after arrival, so I had already gotten quite an earful as everyone was signing in: “OMG, you’re a yoga teacher too?!” “I’ve been living on an ashram in Grass Valley.” “Excuse me…are these bean patties gluten-free?”
With all that going on, it was a blessing when Noble Silence finally descended like a cozy, knitted fair-trade ethnic pair of earmuffs; I pulled my cap even lower, and prepared to enjoy the silence. Prior to my departure from Vegas, many of my friends had commented “LOL how are you gonna shut up for ten days?!” as I’m usually a very outgoing, social, life-of-the-party-type person. Well, I’m here to tell you that shutting up was amazing!
I found it wonderfully therapeutic not to have to b.s. or kibbitz with anyone; no laughing at stupid jokes, no “Grass Valley? How interesting,” or “Oh wow these photos are great!” I am actually by nature kind of an introvert — growing up (and in fact until I started drinking alcohol at the age of 23) I was bookish and almost painfully shy, so in a weird way it was kind of a treat to be able to regress for awhile. And I was really good at it; though I heard other hens nattering in hushed tones throughout the course, I maintained total silence for the entire ten days. (I was forced to whisper responses when the meditation teacher asked about my progress every few days, but I kept my answers to an absolute minimum: “It’s fine,” “I’m feeling tingling,” etc. I also had to ask for an alarm clock at one point…but all in all, I probably spoke fewer than 50 words all week, and those in a hushed whisper. And I certainly didn’t chant “Sadhu, sadhu, sadhu” at the end of the meditation sessions like many of the other students; supposedly it just means “Well said” in the ancient Buddhist language of Pali…but like those Chinese characters people get tattooed on their persons supposedly meaning “TRUTH,” how do I know it doesn’t really mean “I’m a white dumbass and my privilege is choking me?!”)
Soaking at a hot spring after the retreat
Aside from keeping my mouth shut, I was also really good at not peeking at the other students; the idea behind Noble Silence is that you’re supposed to create the illusion that you are alone, in isolation…so though I couldn’t avoid seeing the others’ feet and legs, I managed pretty successfully not to look at anyone above the waist. I didn’t even know who was sharing my own bedroom until the end of the week — and those were close quarters! Also, though the male and female students were segregated for the duration of the course, we all meditated in the same hall, so it was possible to catch glimpses of the men as they walked through the woods to and from their sleeping quarters to the meditation building….but I didn’t try to spot my NPR friend the entire ten days, and in fact had no idea if he was even still there until the 10th day. (I had a feeling he might have left after a few days because he seemed out of sorts on the drive up, but since my mom lives close enough to this retreat to be able to come rescue me if needed, I didn’t try to keep tabs on him.)
Meanwhile, I had come here to fix my sleeping disorder — so how did that go? Well, the accommodations at this particular retreat were less than ideal for someone with sleep issues; the facility used to be some kind of summer-camp-type resort made up of several small cabins arranged around the mess hall and the meditation hall. Some of the cabins were configured into dormitory-style bunks; the cabin I was in was divided into three bedrooms — one solo room, one two-top, and one three-top. Lucky me, I scored a bed in the three-top…but as it turned out, one of the beds in our room remained empty, so it was just me and one other woman. Meanwhile, one of the chicks in the two-top bailed after the second day…which meant that the other two lucky ducks in my cabin had private rooms. (I’m sure if I’d spoken with course management beforehand and explained my problem, they might have given me a private room…but I was trying to be low-maintenance and just go with the flow…ya know?)
It was actually a blessing that we had two empty beds in our cabin, as there was just one shower and 2 toilets/sinks for all of us. I grew up in a fairly large family full of women, so I was sort of used to jockeying for bathroom time. But negotiations are tricky when one is observing Noble Silence — so to that end, there was a dry-erase signup sheet posted outside the bathroom where you could write in your name each day and reserve a 15-minute block. Bathing opportunities were limited to the short periods of free time allowed after meals, plus a small window first thing in the morning and another just before bed. I ended up jumping in first thing each morning at 4am, right after the gong mistress came in to gong us awake, just to get it out of the way before anyone else got any ideas. And it worked out fine; nobody else was insane enough to argue.
After showering, the gong mistress would come around again to remind you that it was time for the 4:30am meditation session. Throughout the day, students are expected to meditate a total of 10-11 hours; three mandatory one-hour sessions in the hall, plus several chunks where you could stay in the hall or do it in your bedroom. Fortunately, the 4:30-6:30am chunk was one of those where they let you stay in your room…so after showering, I would bundle up warmly in all my cozy knitted ponchos and shawls, and “meditate” on my bed. For the first couple of days I did this early session in the hall…but after a couple of days my butt was so sore from sitting on the hard-ass cushions in the hall, that I wussed out and started doing most of the non-essential sessions on my bed, in the interest of saving my ass and lower back for the mandatory stuff.
Now, I wasn’t a total slacker — I tried to meditate. But it was 4:30 in the freakin’ morning, in deepest, darkest December, with freezing cold rain (and even snow) pouring down outside…and there I was on my comfy bed, bundled up in cozy ethnic crochettery, all nice and warm and drowsy. What would you do??? That’s what I thought! Hey, at least I made the bed first and sat upright while dozing
Besides, I was severely sleep deprived! The entire ten days was like being in a sleep-wake fugue state; as exhausted as I was, I slept unevenly at night, tossing and turning and coughing and probably driving my poor roommate nuts with all my getting up to go to the bathroom, etc. And since they only allowed us 6.5 hours in bed in the first place…is it any wonder I dozed off here and there throughout the day?
Ironically, my sister had advised me that based on her experience (at a different facility down near Yosemite, where she had a semi-private cell divided by privacy curtains), if the meditation didn’t work out for me I could just sleep through most of the ten days; apparently she’d slept right through the 4:30-6:30 session every morning, and napped here and there in the afternoon. But such is my weird sickness that my brain wouldn’t let me cheat like that; in addition, rightly or wrongly I felt the judgmental eyes of my roommate, who attended every session in the hall with a ramrod-straight back the entire time, watching me. I was half afraid she would report me or something — so I continued to pretend, and sit up while I dozed. What a farce!
Anyway, after the 6:30am session it was breakfast time, and when the gong went off we all shuffled silently down to the mess hall. It was the same thing every morning: a huge vat of oatmeal and a huge vat of stewed prunes, raisins, apples and oranges; plus yogurt, cottage cheese, dry cereal, granola and toast. In addition to cow’s milk and sprouted-grain bread there was soy milk and almond milk for the lactose-intolerant, and of course gluten free bread for the glutards. There was also a huge bowl of bananas, apples, kiwis and oranges…plus sunflower seeds, almonds, honey, jam, peanut butter and butter/vegan spread. To drink, it was either herbal tea or instant Folger’s — I actually went the entire ten days with just tea, as instant Folger’s is pretty much the worst thing I have ever put in my mouth (and I have had some nasty things in my mouth). I also developed a fondness for buttered toast with miso paste — some freaky health-food concoction made of fermented garbanzo beans that was really awesome on toast!
No nudity allowed at the retreat — this was afterward
After stuffing my face, there was still plenty of time before the mandatory 8am group sitting, so I would go for a walk in the woods behind the women’s cabins, to digest my breakfast, get some fresh air and stretch my legs before the physical torment ahead. As mentioned, these retreats are strictly segregated, so the men had their own seperate walking path on the other side of the mediation hall….but us lucky gals got to endlessly meander around a maybe .5-mile labyrinth of trails up a gentle hillside through a pine and oak forest. I got to know those trails very well — I pretty much spent every allowable moment, rain, snow or shine, day or dark, wandering around on them.
Then the gong would
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