Alright, since April I’ve been working out with G-Force Training. It’s been over 5 months of working out twice a week with Gidon, the world’s most patient and supportive trainer and owner of G-Force. 5 months of changing my bad eating habits -

“no carbs after midnight? Come on!”

And 5 long months of working out on my own for 45 minutes, one day a week.

Okay, who’re we kidding? I hardly ever worked out on my own. Sorry Gidon but it’s true.

But eventually, I did start to walk more, and use the stairs more. And I really don’t miss the carbs at night although I’d kill for a pan of lasagna. What did you say? And now here we are, over 5 months later. I’m still working out with Gidon and his fantastic team at G-Force 2 times a week but now I also work out at Steamworks 5 times a week!
Did you know they have a fantastic gym there that almost never gets used? No line ups and there’s porn! What gym offers that? I’ll tell you, when you’re burning it out on the elliptical at level 10, you want to watch a hot eatin’ to get you over the hump!
Anyway, it’s been 5 long months of sweat and tears and finally, for the first time in over 20 years, I am under 300 lbs! Not Weight Watchers, not vegetarianism, nothing helped me help myself like G-Force! They have quite literally saved my life. Now if you’re looking to regain control of yourself and your body, do yourself a favour and start moving today. If you have trouble motivating yourself, visit www.gforcetraining.com . They not only can help, their results are guaranteed! Look how gorgeous I am!

There are a lot of preconceived notions about porn stars.  How much we make.  Sexual promiscuity.  Drug use… or abuse.  Prostitution.  Rampant sexual perversions … or fetishes.  I’m here to tell you that whatever you think is true… probably is.

I’m kidding.  Porn stars are like snowflakes, there are a million different kinds.

As someone who’s done SEX movies, people often assume things about me.  For instance, that I’m kinky in bed off camera.  I guess that depends on what you define as kinky, but in truth I’m more of a romantic.  I’m open to anything, just kiss me while we do it!

But sometime it takes someone you trust before a fetish can surface, as one of mine has recently.

Growing up, my family was addicted to horror movies.  We’d watch Bram Stoker’s Dracula at Christmas (sorry Jesus, but vampires are sexier!).  And one of our all time favourite horror movies was… and is… Halloween.  Michael Meyers in his white mask terrorizing Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis) in Haddonfield, Illinois.  Doesn’t get better than that.

This powerful commanding man of few words who knows what he wants and takes it, has somehow become a sexual turn on for me.  Is it the fact that he is unpredictable?  Is it his single-minded obsession?  Is is the anonymity and mystery of the face behind the mask?

Yes, yes and yes!

Perhaps it’s also the thrill of capturing such a man.  Overpowering him and taming the beast … or the boogie man!

To quote the film:

Laurie: “What’s the boogie man?”

Dr. Loomis: “As a matter of fact, that was.”

Again, Twisted

Ever since the beginning, I’m talking way back to when I was debating whether or not I should do a ‘trial’ scene with an internet company here in Toronto to make some ‘summer cash’, people have asked, “What if your mom finds out?”

That was everyone’s #1 concern. What will you do when your family finds out?  Finds out?  Like I’m a serial killing cannibalist!

My response was simple. “I’m not going to live my life in fear of what others think of my choices… not even my mom!”

So, I did that trial scene, and loved it! Nothing ever felt so natural and normal. I worked the summer doing jack off scenes for that company until the fateful day that someone in L.A. spotted me on that site, and invited me down to Hollywood. I was young, fearless and a total adventurer, so I took them up on the offer!

Now in L.A., I started my new life and Eddie Stone was born. Along with Eddie came higher profile gigs. Life size cardboard cutouts of myself in store windows, magazine covers and DVD box covers.

“What does your mother think about your career?” asked the magazine interviews. “She’s on a need-to-know basis,” I’d say “And this is something she doesn’t need to know.”

Anyway, I was all the way in L.A., and it was GAY PORN, how was she EVER going to find out? …..

Recently, I was a guest on the Shaun Proulx Show on Proud Fm. I was there to discuss Saskatchewan possibly making it legal for marriage commissioners to refuse to perform ceremonies for same-sex couples. I was ready for a lively conversation when I had a thought: the Michael Jackson Memorial is being broadcast around the planet…will anyone be listening to us?

I mentioned this to Shaun and Mark Wigmore when I arrived at the studio and we made a bit of a joke about the 6 people who would be tuning in to us. I then said something to the effect, “Well, the world is wallowing in an incredible amount of media-created mourn porn.” We all got a laugh out of that and went on to do the interview.

“The world is wallowing in an incredible amount of media-created mourn porn.”

On the way home I thought about what had inadvertently slipped out of my mouth. Mourn Porn. I then applied it to the crescendo of mourning over Jackson’s death. From the first reports of his cardiac arrest to the very public memorial, this whole thing was very operatic – and pornographic.

I remember when Elvis died. I remember the outpouring of emotion. But I don’t remember nearly two weeks of program-preempting special reports and “coverage”. The same when John Lennon was killed. It was a big news story and a lot of the kids I went to high school with were wearing black arm bands for a couple of days. One of our teachers actually suspended regular class and brought in Beatles and Lennon records (that’s right, I said records!) to listen to his music and discuss his influence on music, pop culture and the peace movement.

However, the Michael Jackson send off was over-the-top. It was Dianaesque. It was even bigger. It’s not that his fans were necessarily acting inappropriately; reaction to the death of a beloved entertainer can have a profound effect of people. It was the media that acted like a rabid Larry Flint. Breaking news updates, TV specials, up-to-the-minute updates on the latest sordid tales (true or not). Then there was the Twitter and Facebook aspect.

Of course, the death of a celebrity is big business. While the media reported on the tragic events that lead up to Jackson’s death with put-on sad faces, they woud perk up when talking about the spectacular album sales that were taking place since his passing, speculating on just how many millions this could bring in.

I think the image burned in brain is that of his daughter Paris on the news this morning. Here is this poor child who has been sheltered from the media her whole life suddenly being thrust into a very public spotlight during the most horrible moment in her life. The audience in the Staples Centre watching her every move and listening to her every strained and emotional word, her family holding her and telling her to speak up, the cameras’ and spotlights’ unrelenting stare as she struggled to speak. The live feed beamed around the planet. It made me sad and very uncomfortable to see – and I didn’t watch it live, I saw the pictures on the news this morning.

Our society, indeed our planet, has an unquenchable thirst for this. We need to wallow in every nuance of someone else’s grief. Therefore the media give us what we want. But what’s the cost? I’ve seen people more distraught over Jackson’s death than they were when a member of their own family died. Is it a cultural zeitgeist? Is it a necessary expression of emotions bourne out of our own fear of death. Is it the media cashing in on the spectacle by putting the camera absolutely everywhere and showing everything raw, bare and uncensored? Or, is it simply the new phenomenon of Mourn Porn?

Yesterday, I was a guest on the Shaun Proulx Show on Proud Fm. I was there to discuss Saskatchewan possibly making it legal for marriage commissioners to refuse to perform ceremonies for same-sex couples. I was ready for a lively conversation when I had a thought: the Michael Jackson Memorial is being broadcast around the planet…will anyone be listening to us?

I mentioned this to Shaun and Mark Wigmore when I arrived at the studio and we made a bit of a joke about the 6 people who would be tuning in to us. I then said something to the effect, “Well, the world is wallowing in an incredible amount of media-created mourn porn.” We all got a laugh out of that and went on to do the interview.

“The world is wallowing in an incredible amount of media-created mourn porn.”

On the way home I thought about what had inadvertently slipped out of my mouth. Mourn Porn. I then applied it to the crescendo of mourning over Jackson’s death. From the first reports of his cardiac arrest to the very public memorial, this whole thing was very operatic – and pornographic.

I remember when Elvis died. I remember the outpouring of emotion. But I don’t remember nearly two weeks of program-preempting special reports and “coverage”. The same when John Lennon was killed. It was a big news story and a lot of the kids I went to high school with were wearing black arm bands for a couple of days. One of our teachers actually suspended regular class and brought in Beatles and Lennon records (that’s right, I said records!) to listen to his music and discuss his influence on music, pop culture and the peace movement.

However, the Michael Jackson send off was over-the-top. It was Dianaesque. It was even bigger. It’s not that his fans were necessarily acting inappropriately; reaction to the death of a beloved entertainer can have a profound effect of people. It was the media that acted like a rabid Larry Flint. Breaking news updates, TV specials, up-to-the-minute updates on the latest sordid tales (true or not). There was the Twitter and Facebook aspect.

Let’s not forget that a celebrity death is big busness as we were constantly reminded by reports of soaring Jackson music and video sales. The fans may be devastated by his death but the music business is cashing in on this guy like it was 1984!

But I think the image burned in brain is that of his daughter Paris on the news this morning. Here is this poor child who has been sheltered from the media her whole life suddenly being thrust into a very public spotlight during the most horrible moment in her life. The audience in the Staples Centre watching her every move and listening to her every strained and emotional word, her family holding her and telling her to speak up, the cameras’ and spotlights’ unrelenting stare as she struggled to speak. The live feed beamed around the planet. It made me sad and very uncomfortable to see – and I didn’t watch it live, I saw the pictures on the news this morning.

Our society, indeed our planet, has an unquenchable thirst for this. We need to wallow in every nuance of someone else’s grief. Therefore the media give us what we want. But what’s the cost? I’ve seen people more distraught over Jackson’s death than they were when a member of their own family died. Is it a cultural zeitgeist? Is it a necessary expression of emotions bourne out of own fear of death. Or is it simply the media cashing in on the spectacle by putting the camera absolutely everywhere and showing everything raw, bare and uncensored? Is it Mourn Porn?