[Staggs]

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Blonde Ambitions - The Only Blog You Need To Read
#NP “Boogie Feet” by Ke$ha

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages.  Sin City Wrestling introduces to you, the most talked about event of the last edition of Climax Control, #187.  How appropriate was it for me to decide to return to the ring on this very night?  Because this girl’s gonna kill it… #Slayed .  But, let’s be real for just a second.  It was talked about, but it was more of a whisper, like “Oooooh, did you see what Holly just done did?  She got her’s’es tonight.”  I didn’t strap on these Louboutin’s, beat my mug for the gawwwwds, and serve you fish on a silver platter, henny, just to get whispers.  No ma’am, no ham, no pam, no cauliflower, no cornbread, no green beans…  That was NOT in my mission statement at any place, in any time.  The meek shall inherit  the world, but your girl, Holly?  She wants the whole damn universe.

But what now?  Baby…

I could go on here for a little minute about how I’m one of the most fierce competitors on the roster.  I could name drop the first ever World Bombshell Champion, and talk about how I trained extensively with Little Miss Diva Darling.  I could go on about how I’ve been a referee during some of the most raw battles ever seen in Sin City Wrestling.  Watching World Champions battling it out, and tapping that one, two, three, all while takin’ notes.  I could talk all this mess about what makes me better than the next guy, but the truth is… I ain’t proved it yet.  The long time fans know that I wrestled a few matches, and I even won some of them.  But that’s the past.  There ain’t a damn person left in the men’s division that was around from back then.  What good would it do to brag on that.

Lemme go off on a little tangent for a hot minute.  We got some top grade talent here right now.  We got Kris Halich, who is on his way to becoming one of the most memorable people on the roster to date!  We got Ryan Keys.  You seen that ass?  I have, many times, and it had some leather championship belt hanging right above it.  It took me a minute, but I noticed!  We got Griffin Hawkins, who may or may not remember me from back in “the day”... (Mean Girls days :sad: )  We got the Sweete Twins, and that name ain’t just for show.  It was handed down from their father, and it is God given… Yaaasssss gawwwwwd!  There is the Monstimals, who are fierce, but not in the same way as me.  Then, we can’t forget to mention James Tuscini, and baby, mama got a few things to say about that, but that comes at a later time.  Matt Spears is the underdog of the whole show, and… Wait!  Steve Ramone is still around?  Somebody needs to Suicide Dive his ass right into retirement.  #ByeGurlBye

It all comes full circle now, because I have a respect for the entire Men’s Division.  A… lot… Most of it is tucked somewhere, but besides that, I do appreciate what the men do.  So, let’s hear it for the boys!  Let’s give the boys a hand!  They turn it out, every week, and go extra hard at super cards.  Except Steve Ramone.  He’s trash.  Nobody likes him.  Nobody.  Not even The (former) Nobodies.  I don’t even think Steve Ramone likes himself.  Anyway, back to relevant matters… I respect most of the Men’s Division for what they do.  Now, as weird as it is to say, I am a part of that division.  Just a country girl, moved to WeHo to become herself, fighting the big boys.  Well, in case you didn’t notice, Holly ain’t the smallest of the bunch.  She is the only “man” on the roster who can turn it out in Jimmy Choo’s and Alexander McQueen’s.  Except for Kris.  I seen them legs, boy.  You been practicing your runway.

My point is that, now I’m part of it all.  I am probably the most unique girl in the Men’s Division, and the only girl in the Men’s Division, but I’m part of it, no less.  I gotta do what every other main stay on the roster is doing, and I gotta make my mark.  I can’t rely on name dropping, and watching the action from a distance.  I trained for this moment, and I’m damn sure gonna take advantage of it.  I’m gonna earn every last bit of recognition that I want.  I might be fabulous.  I might have seniority in this company above basically anybody on the male roster.  But, as of right now, in this very moment?  I don’t deserve shit.  I haven’t stepped foot inside of that ring since 2013.  That’s almost four years, henny.  I got no claim to anything, and I know that.

Moving forward, ya girl Holly wants to… no has to give every single one of you, whether it be fans, talent, or staff… a reason to shout instead of whisper.  That’s a tall order, but honey baby child… that’s why gawd made six inch heels.  I’m gonna tower over most of the men, and I’m gonna stand tall, stand proud, and stand for something that is far beyond myself.  I’m steady on those heels, even with an entire community resting on my shoulders.  By the time you see the fire that’s in these doe like eyes, it’s gonna be too late, and you all will be like “Damn, why didn’t I listen to Holly back in August when she said I was gonna be like ‘Damn, why didn’t I listen…’”

We are at a starting point, children.  This week, win or lose, I’m gonna make the world proud.  The whispers will turn to chit chat.  I’m gonna go out there and give Ryan Keys the fight of both of our careers, because mine sure as hell depends on it.  Can I get an “Amen?”




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Boys Will Be Boys
#NP “The Boys” by Nicki Minaj
Locale- Flex Cocktail Lounge; Las Vegas, Nevada</color>


Hey y’all, Alex Jeffries here.  AKA Mz. Holly Wood.  Lemme make one thing clear for ya real fast.  If I ain’t getting paid, I ain’t doing drag.  That’s a discussion for another time.  I didn’t come here to be all serious and stuff.  I came here to cut loose after a whole lot of training.  Goose get’s ya loose, but so does Brandt the bartender.  I already feel like I got beat into the mat enough for one day, so this is all about relaxing.  I walk into the doors, and I see a Monster High doll moving around on stage.  Oh, I’m sorry… a cheap whore with sunken in eyes, and meth head thin.  She looks like death.  She also happens to be my best friend, Asphyxia Astoria.  Disney’s version of death, warmed over.  I take a seat at the bar, and as Brandt walks up to me, ready to put his hands where they don’t belong, I put a hand in his face, and then knock on the bar.  He brings me a Long Island Iced Tea, with an extra shot of vodka on the side.  I drop the shot, and then sip on the mixed drink as I set my eyes on the stage.  Asphyxia steps to the edge of the stage, and she narrows her glowing eyes in my direction, and she points out at me with a smile on her face.  I put my hand over my face and the bitch decides that she has to make a scene.

Asphyxia:  Look what the black cat dragged in… it’s Mizz Holly Wood!

The crowd cheers as they look around for my stage persona.  Likely because they can’t wait for the show to actually get good.  I take another sip of my drink and continue to shade my face from visibility.  Brandt chuckles and taps Jason on the shoulder to let him know that he’s about to take a break.

Brandt:  I could hide you in back, like in the men’s room.

Me:  Ooooh, classy.  Did I tell you that I’m celebate?  We could read Book of Corinthians together, if ya want.

Brandt:  Oh, baby.  I could absolve you of all your sins in the confessional booth, but I’ll give you one more to brag about on Saturday.

I roll my eyes, because suddenly, public embarrassment doesn’t seem so bad.  I turn around and flash my million dollar smile that lets everyone know that it’s me.  I wave to my adoring fans and then cup my free hand around my mouth as I shout out to Asphyxia.

Me:  Why don’t you do your Rob Zombie “Living Dead Girl” number again, because that ain’t got tired yet!

The crowd busts out laughing as Asphyxia waves me off.  However, right on cue, “Living Dead Girl” starts playing over the speakers as she works the stage.  I blink a few times, because I’d hoped I missed this part of the show by coming to the closing number.  At least it’s only three minutes and twenty seconds longer.  Now, cue the horny drag racers flocking up to me to try to get some.  Now I gotta play nice, even though getting hit on by fifteen men at once was not on the agenda for tonight.

“You’re sexy as a guy.”

“Is that beard real?  How do you hide it during shows?”

“What’s your waist size?”

“I never would have clocked you.  Are you dating anybody?”

“Hey baby.  You DTF?”

“Ever been with a redhead?”

“Ever been with someone older than your dad?”

Oh, and let’s not forget the selfies with me.  I just act engaged and sip on my drink.  I hoped that tonight, I could just be Alex Jeffries, and when I see Armand, he’s going to get an earful for that one.  I love the fans, but the handsy ones are a little much tonight.  I mingle and let them buy me drinks as Jason hands them over to me directly, from the watered down bottles so that I get to keep my head about me.  After the longest fifteen minutes I’ve ever gone through in my life, I see Armand walking through the crowd as people don’t even take notice.  Not because he’s out of drag, but because nobody recognizes him in drag, even when there was just a stage with spotlights on him just moments ago.

Armand:  Hey baby…

Me:  Fuck you for that, girl.  We are leaving.  Now.

Armand:  I get free drinks tonight, so best believe I’m not going any...where…

I don’t give him a choice as I grab onto his arm and pull him through the crowd.  The whole time, his emo hair flutters from the force of the wind, slapping him in the face.  He scoffs as we make it outside of the bar, and this is when I let him pull his arm away from me.

Armand:  What the hell, Alex?

Me:  You know, I could ask you the same damn thing.  I told you that I had some shit on my mind, and I didn’t want to step out into the spotlight.  That’s why I glued a beard to my damn face, even though it’s gonna make me break out.  I just wanted to take a second to be Alex and leave Holly behind.  Can’t I just get a second to breathe?  That’s why I came to one of your shows, instead of a Tesla Twist show.

Armand:  Ohhhh fawwwwwwwk yewwwwww....

I break my bitchy demeanor as I lean in and kiss Armand on the cheek.  He pat’s my arm and hugs onto me.  What we are, has no labels.  The closest explanation to it is “BFF’s”, but it’s a little more than that.  Less than “dating”.  But there is a whole lot of giving shit to one another.  We hold onto each other as I lean onto the much shorter friend of mine.  We walk along the LGBT end of the strip, a couple of “twinks” with no better place to go.  Luckily my size protects us from the flirting, but not the cat calls and the whistles.

Me:  I always wondered what Grindr would be like if it was an actual place…

Armand:  This is more like Scruff.  The Cocktail Lounge is Grindr, you know?  Less class, and everybody here is a bottom.

Me:  Vers bottom, thank you very much.

I reach around and grab a handful of his backside, just enough to feel him jump.  He moves in closer to me as he watches the looks of disinterest start to pour in at the realization that we’re all looking for the same thing… to be bent over.  Eventually, we settle down in a 24 hour cafe off the Strip, where we easily find a seat.  I pick up the menu as the waiter… oops sorry, waitress, whose arms are as big as mine, wearing a flannel shirt, and hair that looks oddly like Armand’s, walks up and licks at her thumb as she pulls out her pad.

Waitress:  What can I get you two?

Armand:  Coffee?

Waitress:  Arabica or Robusta?

Me and Armand look at one another for a second.  He waits for me to make the call like I’m some kind of coffee connoisseur or some shit.  I pause as I answer with more of a question.

Me:  Arabica?

Waitress:  Bengal, Congo, Liberian, Sierra, or Colombian?

Me:  Columbian?  Look, we just want coffee, whatever the best one is.  We ain’t that picky.

Waitress:  Well, we just want people to look at the menu and order what they want.  We’re pretty easy going like that.

And that’s when we met Charley.  Normally, I don’t take well to a smartass, but something about how angry and bitter her comment was, I just knew I wanted her to be friends with me.  I looked up with a smile, and she dared me to say something.

Me:  Let’s scratch the order so far, and make it a couple French vanilla cappuccinos.

Charley:  See?  Easy.  Do you want a couple biscotti to go with that?

Me:  No.  Let’s not complicate things any more than they already are.  Coffee will be good.

Charley nods her head and rolls her eyes as she walks away.  Armand reaches across the table and holds onto my hand.  He knows that I get comfort from comforting other people, so he lets me do it.

Armand:  Ally, won’t you tell me what’s going on?  What has got you acting so off tonight?  You never turn down a night of groupies at The Lounge…

Me:  With everything going on lately, it feels like we’re reverting back ten years.  I simply can’t sit back and do nothing.  I need to give back to the community, but I just don’t know how.  I only know that I couldn’t sit back and do nothing as a referee any longer.  I need a grander stage.

Armand:  What do you mean, you don’t know what to do?

I cock my head to the side as I give that look that asks “Are you serious?”  Armand waits for me to say something, but when I don’t, he looks at me and rolls his eyes.  He grips onto my hand even tighter as he looks directly into my eyes.

Armand:  Don’t hold back.  Be unapologetic.  Make them take a good, long look at the community.  When they shove, you shove back for all of us.  Every time some wannabe skinhead nazi fuck throws a moonshine bottle at you, turn around and blow a big cloud of fabulous right back at him.  Represent, henny.

Me:  Yeah, but how?  How do I represent a group of people, where I am just one?  I don’t know what to do, because a community is a collection of many, and I only know how to be me.

Armand:  Don’t worry about making an impact.  Being you, as bold as you are, is enough of a statement.  Just keep your head held up high, and do you.

Charley brings our drinks and sets them down on the table as I slide a few bills across the table.  Armand scoffs, partially at the fact that I didn’t let him pay, and partially because of the size of the tip.

Me:  Look, that’s all fine and dandy, Mandy, but there’s not a lot that I can do, just based on the fact that I belong to a community.

Armand:  You are fabulous, and you represent so, so many aspects of the community.  Just go out there and have fun, and be yourself.  That’s all you can really do.  The fact of the matter is that the fans already love you.  I mean, who wouldn’t?  You’re a knockout in and out of drag.  They’re gonna love Holly and Alex, and that attention alone will let those assholes know that we’re not going anywhere.  We’re gay, and we’re here to stay.  We’re not sheep, or some cookie cutter conformity victims.  Gays, lesbians, bis, trans, pans, questioning… we’re all people, and we support one another.  Even those two assholes you hang out with sometimes.  The bearded one and the redhead…  We’re a community, and you represent that in a way that says we are all unique.  Even straights.  You can do it.  I got faith in you, babe.

I smile as Armand smiles back at me.  I think it is just what I needed to hear, because I feel a little more brave now.  I feel like I can do what I need to do, even if I don’t know exactly what I need to do… if that makes sense.  The rest of the evening is a blur, because I beamed so bright like a diamond, thanks to my bestie.



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The Transformation
#NP “Bette Davis Eyes” by Kim Karnes
Locale- Undisclosed; Laughlin, Nevada</color>


I haven’t done this in a hot minute, well, not on this side of things.  I conducted a few interviews in my time as a backstage personality, but I haven’t been on this side of things in a while.  Well, here we go…

The camera clicks on and Gary waves a hand at me to let me know that we’re rolling.  The camera catches a view of the inside of my travel trailer.  Literally, I got so much shit in my wardrobe, that I gotta have a trailer, packed with the outfits, wigs, make up, heels, tucking panties, and body wax and razors.  If you ever think it’s easy being a woman, why don’t you follow a drag queen around for a bit.  The camera pans around a bit to see my fabulous jeweled dresses, over to my favorite rack of wigs.  While I’m a blonde girl, I do occasionally like my brunette, or even my Elvira black wig.  Armand is behind me, looking it over, and the second I hear one of my dangling earrings rattle, I turn around and give him a look of death.  He gently raises his hands and slowly backs away.

Me:  That’s Vivian Westwood, henny, and it costs more than your Toyota Corolla.  Thanks.

Armand rolls his eyes as he takes a seat at my dressing table, and pulls out his phone.  Satisfied, I turn around and look back to the camera with a smirk.  I take a seat at the table, with my mirror at my side so that I can start putting on my makeup.  I pick up the brush as I lay down the foundation, all while staring right at the camera.

Me:  Hello boys and squirrels.  Welcome to this edition of the “Trans-Formation” with ya girl, Holly Wood.  Mz. Wood, if you nasty.  Let me start off by sayin’ that this is a big week for SCW.  We got a lot of big matches.  Topping off the card, we get to see Jessie Salco lose miserably to Evie Baang… because losing miserably to Crystal Millar, Mikah, Sam Marlowe, and, well, the entire Bombshell roster minus Evie wasn’t enough.  Apparently she collecting losses like Pokemon.  Gotta catch em all, so gone and get it gurrrrrr.  Then we got Champion versus Champion, and I gotta say that I wish this was the Main Event.  Mostly because it doesn’t feature Jessie Salco, but also because… well, it’s Champion versus Champion.  What more do I need to say?  Plus, James Tuscini… ‘nuff said.  Them Italian’s, boy…  Then we got Sam Marlowe versus Mercedes Vargas.  I’m more familiar with the latter, because, well… we did this thing together for a couple years, and basically rocked the foundation of SCW to it’s core.  Good luck, ladies.  Then, someone who has lost to Jessie Salco… against someone who has beaten Jessie Salco so many times, when Amy Marshall takes on Crystal Millar, the black sheep of the Black Sheep.  Speaking of Black Sheep, Killian Sweete takes on newcomer Andre Aquarius.  It’s make or break time for the newcomer.  Stacked, right?

I straighten out my right cheek as I dab a bit more foundation to give myself a less shiny Barbie doll complexion.  I then switch over to the next side as I hold up my finger to ask for a second from the adoring audience watching.  Once I finish that cheek with the touch ups, I pull the brown netted cap over my hair to pull it all back while setting up for my wig line.

Me:  Not to mention, you gonna get a whole lotta fish, and a whole lotta beef.  Kinda like Surf and Turf at Red Lobster.  Holly Wood gonna take on Ryan Keys in a specially requested match.  Now, a lot of people have been asking me, they say “Holly?”  and I’m like “Yasss gurl?”  so they like “Why you go and request a match against Ryan Keys when you don’t have anything against Ryan?”  Do I even need to say anything about that?  Who would not want to participate in the most homo-erotic sport on the planet, rubbin’ up on just about every inch of a man’s body.  Did you think I was gonna go ask for a match against Samuel McPherson?  Or someone ugly like Steve Ramone?  No ma’am… I’m gonna ask for the biggest hunk of man meat on the roster.  And since he was already booked in a match this week, I asked for the sexiest piece of man meat on the roster in either Ryan Keys, or Matt Spears.  I got the blue eyed Adonis himself.  They say “Be careful what you wish for.” but I say “Can I get a Porsche?!”  If I’m gonna get man handled by someone, at least give me a memory for the bate crate later.  Am I right?

Armand:  Amen, sister…

Me:  Notice how I said “man handled” and not “get my ass kicked”.  There’s a big difference there.  See, I been in the ring with Ryan before.  He knows what he’s doing.  But, I called many of his matches.  I know what to look for, and I know his game.  I have the “computers advantage” if you will, cause I know his moves, but he don’t know when and where I’m coming from, or what I’m capable of doing.  Really, nobody does.  No one that was around back then is still here… unless you count Steve and Jessie.  But, again, really… nobody does…

Armand:  Again, amen sister…

I finish applying the foundation, so I move along to the eyeliner, getting it established really fast.  From there, a few good swipes of my Nyx Cosmetics, and I’m moving on to the contouring pads.  I start on my cheeks as I continue.

Me:  Now, this isn’t some sort of special request grudge match where I’m gonna talk all kinds of mad shit on Ryan Keys.  We ain’t friends that hang out when we’re not at shows, but I talked to the stud a few times, and he’s a nice guy.  Probably too nice for his own good.  What’s funny is that I’m the sweetest bitch you will ever meet in your life.  But even if I’m sweet, I’m still a bitch.  Don’t mistake.  I can tear down Mother Theresa if I wanted to.  So, Ryan Keys being a nice guy, I have no problems reading to filth.  However, I’m not going to.  The days of the Mean Girls are long gone, even if Veronica and Mercedes don’t realize it.  But hey, if Mercy wants to carry dead weight on her shoulders, then that’s on her.  Not me.  I’m putting the past behind me.  And part of doing that means that I’m gonna show respect to those who deserve it.  There’s a lot of shady folk in Sin City Wrestling, but Ryan Keys ain’t one of them.  He’s a straight shooter, and I appreciate that.

I move over to the left side of my face as I turn to the right slightly.  I keep my eyes trained on what I’m doing as I gently add lines onto my cheekbones and down my face.  I know I look a hot mess right now, but once I’m blended and stuff, it’s going to be oh so right.  I take a clean pad and begin to blend it gently to give a naturally beautiful finish.

Me:  Now, don’t mistake my kindness for weakness.  I spent plenty of time in the gym, working on my fitness.  I got my body right, and I got my skills down pat.  I was fortunate enough to have some of the best in the business train with me, and show me how to wrestle like a lady.  My trainers span the entire history of Mean Girls members, along with Vixen, Misty, and Dax Beckett.  The last one is a joke.  I wrestle better than he does, but I draw my feminine essence from his style.  In the ring.  I don’t bitch non-stop on Twitter or other places where people don’t want to hear me.

Armand:  I’m not gonna say “Amen, sister” again, if that’s what you’re asking for.

Me:  Just like your stage shows, ain’t nobody wanna hear you, baby, so don’t worry about that.

Armand nudges the table, making me slip a little and I turn my head to give him the death stare.  He chuckles as he stands up and blends it out for me.  He knows I would chase him out of my damn dressing room if he didn’t.  However, once he fixes his mistake, I take back over, seeing that I’m good to go there.  I pick up the lashes, and begin ironing them on, while speaking again.

Me:  My point is that, I put on an entire experience.  Now, I heard whispers that this tests the lines of intergender wrestling, which SCW has a history of not condoning.  In the ring, I’m showing off as a full fledged woman.  But the reality of it is that I’m six foot and a buck sixty-five.  Oh, and I got a penis.  It’s nice too, but you ain’t gonna see any sign of it.  Trust me when I say, though, that it takes a lot of work to hide it.  No, it’s not bullshit macho posturing, either.  I wish I was hung like Steve Ramone, ‘cause then it would be a lot easier to hide.

Armand:  Damn it… Amen, sister…

Me:  I know y’all know what Holly is sayin’ there.  But, the thing to remember is that I can handle myself against these guys, all while fighting like a girl.  The Bombshell Division was the epicenter of SCW for a while there, and I learned a lot from the shining stars.  I’m bringing that glow on to the Men’s roster.  See, drag is an art, and it’s very punk rock.  It’s about blurring lines, and baby, by the time I’m done with them, those lines is gonna be as blurred as this contouring.  Beautiful, fabulous, and all around… right.

By this time, I am doing my lips in a luscious cherry red, getting ready to gloss them over.  You know I gotta go quiet for a second while I handle that.  After a few additional seconds, it’s as right as my contour, once I blot.  I gloss them over right quick, and smack them together, making all the boys quiver.  That’s when I go on to the eye shadow, while Armand lovingly does my blush.

Me:  Now, as far as Ryan… I hate to say it, but I’m gonna make an example of him.  It ain’t personal, Ry-Ry.  It’s strictly business.  At the end of the day, I still got mad respect for you, but it’s not gonna be as easy as you think.  While training with the ladies, I stepped my pussy up, and I trained with a number of guys too.  And, only one of those training sessions ended up in the bedroom… or, rather the back of a Ford pick up truck with a fleece blanket.  I gone round and round inside of the ring, and I’m ready.  I made sure of it before I signed my name on the dotted line.  Shit is serious, Ryan, and I want you to know that, just like you said, I won’t be taking it easy on you.  I wanna make sure that you’re aware that this is my platform.  It’s where I launch.  I got held back by friendships before.  I got pinned down because “spotlight” was Delia Darling’s thing.  She even knew her and I wasn’t gonna win a tag match when I wrestled before, and she made me go in and take the fall.  I’m done with that.  I came here to shine, and I’m taking this very, very seriously.  A win is important, and Holly takes no chances.  I’m hoping that this warning is enough to light that fire under you, so that you step it up as much as I plan on stepping up.  Let’s steal the show in the second match, and make our fellow competitors work that much harder to try to outshine all the fabulousness we got inside the ring.  Deal?

With that, I stand up, and walk over behind the silhouette shade, and I make sure I’m totally blocked off.  I turn slightly as I begin stripping off my pants and underwear.  This is the part where Armand makes the camera turn away slightly as I stick my head out from behind the shade.

Me:  This is the part I was… ah… talking about.  It’s gotta go somewhere, right?  Well, by the time I’m done, you won’t know it’s even though.  Again, like Steve Ramone.  Sorry, I really shouldn’t shoot at easy targets.  It’s not very nice, but I need somewhere to direct the bitchiness, agh… at, right?  This gaff tho… Anyway, this week, Holly gonna shine bright.  She gonna be a star.  She gonna be padded to the nines.  You gonna think that I’m after the Twerking Championship, but Jamie Dean is safe… for now, baby.

The sound of hangers banging around are heard as I put on the dress behind the shade.  I waste no time in getting it on and padded, because henny, it ain’t my first rodeo.  I come out and I walk right over to my favorite part of my dressing room.  I look between the wigs, but my wavy old faithful blonde wig catches my attention more, so I throw it over my head, and fluff it out.  I put it over my head, and it looks right with my final check in the mirror.  I take a sucker from the side table and give it a good lick as I turn around, flashing my signature smile.

Me:  I wanna end this on a positive note, so I’m letting you all see how right everything is before Sunday.  But, I gotta ask one last question, Ryan.  After Sunday, you are gonna get one question asked to you, over and over, and I just hope that you are able to answer it in advance.  Let me be the fortune teller of SCW, since Celeste North and Alexis Edwards are now gone.  I’m getting a vision, oh… h-h… hold on…

Armand looks concerned as he prepares to catch me as I get dizzy.  I hold onto the side of the table as if I’m trying to hold on to consciousness.  As Armand approaches, I hold my hand out, telling him to stop.  I open my eyes and stare at the camera with my smartass Holly glare, nodding my head as I pop my lips.

Me:  â€œHow did it feel to get yo ass kicked by a girl?”  Good luck, Ryan.  I’ll see you on Sunday… all of you.

With that, I wink and let out my signature girly Holly laugh as I put the lollipop back in my mouth.  Deep… in… my… mouth… And then for good measure, I pull it back out, and kiss the tip before enveloping it once more.  I snap my fingers as Armand brings me my faux fur coat, and places it around me.  I blow Ryan a kiss as Gary turns the camera off, and we go out to rock Laughlin to it’s core.  Ta-tas for now, lovelies.

The End