So, what do you think - wanna see Cousin It doing it?
So, what do you think - wanna see Cousin It doing it?

Hometown girl / adult movie mogul makes Sweet Mess a reality

I have no problem with porn. In fact, I consider it a public service.

Think of all the people who rely on their DVD collections as inspiration for solo physical companionship. Consider the countless couples who spice up their love lives with a little movie action.

For me, it's like Kopp's chocolate malt custard; it's OK to indulge every once in a while and it's really fun to fantasize about when your favorite flavor is going to be available next.

The fascination with porn is undeniable. Mention porn or sex in your blog and you are assured a top click. (Even the OnMilwaukee.com weather guys are going to use this trick now.)

The AVN (Adult Video News) Awards are now featured on regular cable. The show consists of an almost Oscar-like production, with slightly more hair extensions and plastic surgery, less clothing and no need for "bleeps."

(Thank goodness anything goes verbally, otherwise the whole thing would be an ear ringing tone more like an emergency broadcast system test than a celebration of cinematic flesh bumping.)

Musicians like Dave Navarro (of Jane's Addiction and Red Hot Chili Peppers fame) have created a second career in the adult film world and porn's brightest female stars are crossing over into mainstream film, commercials and television – successfully.

Whether they admit it or not, most everybody loves porn.

And so does my Milwaukee-born girl Steviee Hughes, who has made a career out of it. She'll be releasing her company Sweet Mess' first feature length film, "The Addams Family: An Exquisite Films Parody" in mid-August.

Steviee lived here until she was 7, moved to Alabama and ultimately to Los Angeles. Much of her family still lives here and although she hasn't been back in a decade (I'm working on changing that), Steviee remembers "everyone had a bar in their basement" and that "there was a beer depot next to every Catholic church."

So, how did a nice Midwestern girl end up an adult movie mogul?

Responding to an ad for a Web designer, …

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Should Linsday have Botox? She's not sure, either.
Should Linsday have Botox? She's not sure, either.

To Bo or not to Bo

More than ever, age is just a number. But, with 35 around the corner for me, there are certain unavoidable physical consequences to some foolish and ignorant lifestyle choices made in my late teens and throughout my 20s that are manifesting on my face right now. Tanning for half an hour post-gym six days a week, smoking a pack of cigarettes during a bartending shift and general "living life to the fullest" or rather, partying really hard.

I have some factors on my side: all members of my family on both sides look incredible for their age, text book exercise and nutritional habits, more than adequate consumption of pure water and a penchant to get quality sleep when I can.

Yet, an overly expressive face, time, sun damage and life circumstances have caught up to my visage.

Granted, as a licensed esthetician and makeup artist by trade, I notice and am more critical of my personal canvas than others. The etches between my brows, the horizontal furrows across the forehead, the texture around the eye ... I see it ... and I want it gone.

Hence, my trip to Refresh in Whitefish Bay to visit Dawn Sagrillo, BSN, RN, CPSN for a Botox consult.

I am incredibly picky about my aesthetic providers. I'm in the biz, so I am extremely specific about what I want, I give honest feedback and I'm not afraid to give constructive criticism. It's been done to me and I think we owe it to each other as professionals to give each other guidance.

From the moment aesthetic coordinator, Tessa picked up the phone when I called for my appointment, I knew I was in the right place.

Highly recommended by a slew of North Shore gorgeous goddesses, I arrived for my Botox consult and was immediately impressed by the serene ambiance and busy waiting room.

After filling out a thick stack of intake forms, I was offered a bottle of Figi water (there just is something "chi chi" about that bottle) and an array of healthy snacks.

Although she was running late, I patiently awaited the meeting with my…

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For a confessed gym rat, exercis-aholic, this is pure torture.
For a confessed gym rat, exercis-aholic, this is pure torture.

Exercise exile

Part of my professional life has been spent as a personal trainer, yoga teacher and spin instructor. Working out is part of my world, an essential activity in my everyday schedule. I don't miss days unless they are scheduled.

I am one of those strange beings that truly loves and enjoys working out. I point this out because being in the industry, most of my clients don't innately have the same affection for sweat that I do. Which is fine – it's my job to make them swoon over cardio or drill them for an hour and force them to move.

I try everything. I love group fitness, home fitness, gym fitness, workin' on my fitness (thank you, Fergie) whatever gets me moving, sweating and pursuing physical health and wellness.

Until I got vertigo three weeks ago.

My doc calls it vestibular neuritis and because of my learned athletic ability I am compensating incredibly well. (Note: I do not possess, in any way, any God-given physical talent. Any sportsman-like behavior has been diligently worked on and specifically honed – just ask my dance and gym teachers.)

I basically get dizzy whenever I move the position of my head up and down or side to side. This is exacerbated when lying down, which makes for a fun spin when going to sleep.

They don't really know what is causing this and the meds they offer are for symptoms only, which doesn't jive for me. If I quell the symptoms – I'm just going to think I'm fine and then do a headstand or pop in an "Insanity" tape (I mean DVD – I can't believe how I date myself with the VHS reflex) and probably do some real damage.

In any case, I have been put on doctor's orders to not workout, so as not to tax my neurological system any further. I'm supposed to be doing nothing. They want me to lay down and sleep. Well, that is not happening in this lifetime or universe. Having me shut down is like 24 Hour Fitness slam their doors. Totally impossible. This could last four weeks or longer!

I'm on Day 22.

For a confessed…

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It's not just the cheese that brought Lindsay Garric home to Milwaukee.
It's not just the cheese that brought Lindsay Garric home to Milwaukee.

Mama, I'm coming home!

More than a few people have professed their love of our fair city on this site before. Singing the praises of Milwaukee's unique offerings like bratwurst and bubblers, da Brewers and "der hey," Harleys and hops, the lake and ahhh, the cheese.

And now it is time for my love note to this town. My ballad to the place I always call home no matter where I'm actually living.

Living in New York, people I'd meet would listen to my strange colloquial lilt and ask me where I was from to which I would proudly answer, "Mwahkee." Then would follow the inevitable, "aren't there a lot of cows there?" question. I would promptly assure them that I was from the city, that Milwaukee was an urban paradise, bustling with culture, great food and amazing people.

Residing in Los Angeles, the question of the origin of my "accent" often arose. This was around the time California started their "Happy Cows" campaign. These conversations often turned into a great debate of whether Wisconsin still was the true dairy state. This is obviously not up for discussion and never was. We are the great dairy state and our cheese tastes better – no matter how happy those West Coast cows are.

Recently, calling Reno home has led to new rumblings for me. No one really asks me about my dialect because I don't really encounter enough people there to listen to me long enough to ask, but I am constantly going on about how living in a city like Milwaukee gives you all of the advantages of living in a big, major hub city – without any of the inconveniences like inflated rent or real traffic. (Yes, I know with the current construction one may beg to differ on this, but seriously, until you've sat on the 405 in 105-degree heat for two hours to go two miles or tried getting a cab in the rain in Times Square, you don't know what traffic is. Sorry, you don't.)

And by the way, there are a lot of cows in Reno. I see more cows in Reno just driving to the grocery store than I have ever encountered in …

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