*CHAPTER 11*

Life Is a p.o.r.n Movie As p.o.r.n's It girl, I was getting my freak on when I wanted, where I wanted, and with whom I wanted. My favorite places to shoot and f.u.c.k were exotic, remote, faraway lands. Such was the scenario for the Penthouse Penthouse video video Penthouse: Pets in Paradise, Penthouse: Pets in Paradise, which we filmed in tropical Costa Rica in 2001. which we filmed in tropical Costa Rica in 2001. Penthouse Penthouse shoots were always so beautiful and tantalizing. This one was a softcore video with fellow p.o.r.n stars and Pets Sunny Leone and Kyla Cole under the guidance of Nick Guccione, the son of the late great Bob Guccione, who founded shoots were always so beautiful and tantalizing. This one was a softcore video with fellow p.o.r.n stars and Pets Sunny Leone and Kyla Cole under the guidance of Nick Guccione, the son of the late great Bob Guccione, who founded Penthouse Penthouse.

I was in heaven. I was trying to be professional and do my job, but all I wanted to do was have s.e.x in this tropical paradise. It was frustrating for h.o.r.n.y ol' me because the shoot was only softcore--just girl-on-girl scenes with no penetration. It was driving me crazy. But I had a plan to get some satisfaction. I had my eye on the brother of the photographer. He was a blond boy who looked like he was straight off the beaches of California.

During the day, I was shooting with the photographer--a brown-haired guy who was kind of geeky and not exactly my type. We were shooting on an active volcano in the middle of nowhere, with monkeys swinging from tree to tree and the biggest bugs I've ever seen in all my life. (I was the perfect p.o.r.n star to bring into the great outdoors because I grew up hiking, camping, and hunting with my father. I loved being outside.) So the photographer was shooting me and he kept backing up and backing up farther and farther to get the right angle until finally the mountain gave way and his leg buckled and fell through a hole with hot lava underneath. Everyone freaked out. The shoot stopped. Selfish me was b.u.mmed that I had to stop shooting for the day. Nick Guccione and the photographer's brother had to carry the burn victim off the mountain. He then had to get airlifted to the nearest hospital to be treated for second-degree burns on his leg.

Later on at dinner, we all feasted on fresh fruit, vegetables, and fish in the common dining area of the resort we were staying at, and the photographer excused himself from dinner because he wasn't feeling well. He was bandaged up from ankle to calf and the doctors had him medicated. I was slowly nursing my gla.s.s of white wine and getting a little buzzed and started thinking, "Hmmm. I think he needs a little attention. He's had a rough day." So being the h.o.r.n.y girl that I am who loves to get f.u.c.ked in gorgeous green surroundings like this one, I decided to follow the photographer to his room and make my move on him.

Knock! Knock!

"Come in," he said.

Shocked at the sight of me standing in his doorway he said, "What are you doing here?

"I thought you might need a little resuscitation," I said in my best p.o.r.n-star voice. I loved using cheesy lines on guys like that--life was a p.o.r.n movie to me.

He was lying in bed with his bandaged leg out of the covers and I slowly started to kiss him and took my panties off. I took his hand and put it on my wet p.u.s.s.y. He got hard instantly. I gently started taking his clothes off. I used to be a nurse, so in my mind I was pretending I was a super s.e.xy nurse taking care of a patient. I was very gentle with him because I knew he was in a lot of pain and wouldn't be able to do much. I did all the work. I climbed on top of him and used him like the s.e.x kitten that I was.

"Wow. I'm having s.e.x with a Penthouse Penthouse Pet," he told me. Pet," he told me.

We had s.e.x for fifteen to twenty minutes before his brother busted in the door. It so happened that they were sharing a room. With the photographer's c.o.c.k still inside of me, I turned around when I heard the brother come through the door and I said, "Ooh! Double time!"

"Whoa. What's going on in here? Is there a party?" the brother, who was a little drunk, slurred.

"Yeah, there's a party and you're invited!" I loved playing the p.o.r.n star.

"No, no, no. You have to leave," said his brother, lying there under me.

"No, I want you both to stay," I insisted. The laid-up brother was not too pleased at my idea. But I had never had brothers before and I wanted them both, so I had them both.

I climbed off the photographer and started giving the blond brother a little mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. We started playing together and I gave him head. The blond brother had a bigger c.o.c.k, so I was really excited. But the oral s.e.x was too much for him to handle and he came all over my t.i.ts before we could f.u.c.k. I went back to the brother in bed and tried to finish my job there, but between being interrupted by his brother and being in pain from his injured leg, the photographer never got off. And he was not happy. It kind of ruined the moment for him. I felt bad.

The next morning, the blond brother came down to breakfast all bright and cheery saying, "What a fabulous morning it is!"

"Oh yes. I slept great," I said with a wink.

The brunette brother just grunted.

Oh well, you can't please everyone. But I certainly pleased myself.

MY TIPS FOR A HAPPY THREESOME:Here are a few tips on how to make sure a threesome goes your way and everyone is happy.

TIP 1: The girl is always in charge. We're the ones more likely to get jealous or feel uneasy, so the girl should be the one who lays out how it's going to go down. The girl is always in charge. We're the ones more likely to get jealous or feel uneasy, so the girl should be the one who lays out how it's going to go down.

TIP 2: Definitely set up some ground rules. Spell out what is off limits, if anything, and what is fair game ahead of time so there are no surprises. Definitely set up some ground rules. Spell out what is off limits, if anything, and what is fair game ahead of time so there are no surprises.

TIP 3: Never spend too much time with one s.e.xual partner over the other. That's how fights break out. Give equal attention to each person in the room. Never spend too much time with one s.e.xual partner over the other. That's how fights break out. Give equal attention to each person in the room.

TIP 4: Don't do a threesome with a friend or close business a.s.sociate. Pick a partner who is somebody you're never going to see again. If this person is already in your life and is going to pop up again and again, it can get uncomfortable for you. Don't do a threesome with a friend or close business a.s.sociate. Pick a partner who is somebody you're never going to see again. If this person is already in your life and is going to pop up again and again, it can get uncomfortable for you.

*CHAPTER 12*

Four Reasons In late 2000, I started dating singer/rapper Erik Schrody, better known as Everlast, the former singer of the hip-hop group House of Pain, which had a big hit in the early '90s with a song called "Jump Around." As a solo artist, he was pretty successful too, having hit number 1 with his song "What It's Like" in 1998, just a few years before I met him on the set of his music video for "I Can't Move" from his second solo alb.u.m.

My agent called me one day with an opportunity to audition for his music video, and I knew a little bit about Everlast, who I called by his real name, Erik. But to me, it was just another job and just another good opportunity to do my thing, make some money, and have a bit of fun. Meeting him was such a cliched Hollywood moment. Here I am the "hot girl in the video," and the star asked me to come to his trailer. So in my sheer black dress, with no panties on, I went waltzing into his trailer and was greeted with a big cloud of marijuana smoke and Erik standing there with three of his homeys, whom he immediately dismissed. I'm thinking, "Oh, no, is he going to pounce on me?"

"Hey, how's it going?" asked Erik while rolling a joint.

I was instantly attracted to him. The shaved head, tattoos, and tough-guy manner . . . I dug it.

"Do you want to smoke?"

"No, that's OK." I didn't smoke much during this time of my life.

"Well, uh, see you on set," he said. He was kind of cold, but it was intriguing for me. A challenge, I thought.

At the end of the shoot, he asked me for my number, which made me as giddy as a schoolgirl. I hadn't been dating much in the past few years because I just wasn't into having a boyfriend. I was into f.u.c.king, and something in Erik made me excited for a new adventure.

Our first date was a movie date at his house. Ladies, don't ever let a guy take you on a date to his house house: (a) It's cheap, (b) It shows disrespect (What? He didn't want to be seen with me in public?), (c) It usually means all he wants from you is s.e.x, and (d) It's just plain lame. We deserve dinners and romance, don't we? I should've known how lame Erik would end up being by that very first date. But I was young and naive and just happy to have met a guy who could potentially be a boyfriend, which is something that had been lacking in my life.

I went to his house in Reseda, California, for that date, and it was really uncomfortable at first. We sat on opposite sides of his couch as we watched a Lakers game, which had me bored out of my mind. We both seemed really nervous. After a few awkward moments, he took a thick, fuzzy fur blanket and wrapped me in it and then wrapped himself in it. I was cold and shivering, partly because it was winter and pretty chilly in his house and partly because I was a little nervous. Either way, he warmed me up fast. And unbeknownst to me at the time, we started a pattern that would be the basis of our relationship: I come to his house. We sit on his couch. We watch TV. We have s.e.x. I go home, utterly unsatisfied.

For two years, I'd follow that pattern. The s.e.x was never mind-blowing. You can tell if s.e.x is going to be good by how much effort a guy puts into you when you're not under the sheets. Erik put zero effort into dating me, taking me out, or making me feel special or beautiful, and that selfishness extended into the bedroom. He was very selfish, but I just went along because it was nice to have someone new around. I had been really lonely, and it was a time when I was feeling really low.

Along the way during those two years, he'd say things to me like, "You know, you're lucky to be with me. Who's going to want to date a p.o.r.n chick?" Well, he he was dating a p.o.r.n chick, so what the f.u.c.k? He was clearly torn over dating me. On the one hand, he's saying no one should date a p.o.r.n chick. On the other hand, he's asking me to autograph my was dating a p.o.r.n chick, so what the f.u.c.k? He was clearly torn over dating me. On the one hand, he's saying no one should date a p.o.r.n chick. On the other hand, he's asking me to autograph my Penthouse Penthouse cover. What was that? And the worst part about it was that he asked me to sign the cover. What was that? And the worst part about it was that he asked me to sign the Penthouse Penthouse right after we had s.e.x. Two words: tacky and creepy. He was attracted to what I did for a living but repelled by it at the same time. And it felt like he punished me for being who I was. right after we had s.e.x. Two words: tacky and creepy. He was attracted to what I did for a living but repelled by it at the same time. And it felt like he punished me for being who I was.

I just remember thinking, "Well, it's bad enough that he doesn't love me for me. But it's worse that he seems to actually hate me for me." I wasn't really sure what to do with that, so I just let it slide for a while. But deep down, I felt hurt, humiliated, and depressed that the guy I had been with for about two years was treating me so badly, and I was letting him. It was also sad that he lived with his mother, but his mother never spoke to me and we never interacted. Erik obviously kept it that way on purpose.

During this time I had very low self-esteem and was drinking heavily, and Erik's comments just dragged me down further. A low point in the relationship came on my birthday. In general, 2002 was a banner year for me. I landed both Playboy Playboy and and Penthouse Penthouse. I was one of the hosts of Playboy TV's Night Calls 411 Live Night Calls 411 Live and I was enjoying the press and promotion of the two simultaneous covers. Everyone was celebrating me around me, but deep down I was very depressed and felt so alone. Being with Erik made me even lonelier than being by myself because he wasn't there for me, supporting me, loving me, or respecting me. and I was enjoying the press and promotion of the two simultaneous covers. Everyone was celebrating me around me, but deep down I was very depressed and felt so alone. Being with Erik made me even lonelier than being by myself because he wasn't there for me, supporting me, loving me, or respecting me.

July 25, 2002, was my twenty-sixth birthday. I called up Erik and said, "Hey, it's my birthday! What are we doing?

And he said, "I don't know what you're doing, but I'm going out with the boys."

"You're not taking me out?" I asked.

"Why would I f.u.c.king take you out? You can do whatever the f.u.c.k you want to do," Erik said.

I shouldn't have been surprised at his reaction, but I was, and I cried and cried and cried.

I called my best friend, Alexis Winston, who was a Penthouse Penthouse Pet and dating a millionaire named Larry, and told her how sad and depressed I was and she came up with a plan. "Forget about Erik. I'm going to take you on Larry's private jet and we're going to get away." So I packed my bag, got dolled up, and flew up to central California with Alexis and her man, who had a big birthday cake waiting for me. I was so jealous of her relationship. When I got to Larry's mansion all I could think was, "Wow. He's going to marry her and she gets to live in this thirty-room house with the man of her dreams and here I am dating s.h.i.tty, selfish a.s.shole Erik. What am I doing wrong?" Pet and dating a millionaire named Larry, and told her how sad and depressed I was and she came up with a plan. "Forget about Erik. I'm going to take you on Larry's private jet and we're going to get away." So I packed my bag, got dolled up, and flew up to central California with Alexis and her man, who had a big birthday cake waiting for me. I was so jealous of her relationship. When I got to Larry's mansion all I could think was, "Wow. He's going to marry her and she gets to live in this thirty-room house with the man of her dreams and here I am dating s.h.i.tty, selfish a.s.shole Erik. What am I doing wrong?"

Erik did such a number on my self-esteem that I started to cry myself to sleep at night thinking, "What man is ever going to marry a p.o.r.n star? Maybe Erik's right. Who is going to want to bring me home to their parents?" Seeing Alexis so happy with her man and all of these girls in the industry around me dating guys who lavished love and gifts on them made me really think about what I wanted in life. I wanted to marry a good man. And if p.o.r.n was going to get in the way of that, I though, then maybe I shouldn't do p.o.r.n anymore.

Around this time we were shooting Island Fever 2 Island Fever 2 for Digital Playground in a rain forest in Hawaii. Perfect, a tropical setting, my favorite. It ended up being my worst filming experience ever. I was working with a Canadian p.o.r.n actor named Erik Everhard, whom I worked with before on a for Digital Playground in a rain forest in Hawaii. Perfect, a tropical setting, my favorite. It ended up being my worst filming experience ever. I was working with a Canadian p.o.r.n actor named Erik Everhard, whom I worked with before on a Penthouse Penthouse photo shoot with Suze, on the movie photo shoot with Suze, on the movie White White Panty Chronicles Panty Chronicles and many other things over the years. I remember him being a genuinely nice guy when I first worked with him. and many other things over the years. I remember him being a genuinely nice guy when I first worked with him.

From Island Fever 2 Island Fever 2 I was in cowgirl position on top of him, and all of a sudden something in him snapped. He started f.u.c.king me violently, so hard that I bled everywhere. He actually tore my v.a.g.i.n.a. It was embarra.s.sing and violating. I didn't even realize I was bleeding; I just knew that he was pounding the s.h.i.t out of me and it hurt. I was so tired of working at this point that I just shut off my emotions, turned that "switch" on, and went through with my job. The director saw the blood and stopped the scene. He had to take me off the set. I wasn't able to work for the rest of the movie. I had other scenes planned but was only able to shoot this one scene. It was a horrible experience. He didn't even apologize. No one there even comforted me. There's no comforting in p.o.r.n, I guess.

I went back to my room that day and thought, "Wow. Is McDonald's hiring?" It left such a bitter taste in my mouth. This was not what I signed up for. For a split second, I thought, "I don't want to do movies anymore. I just don't want to do it." I loved having s.e.x, but this episode left me feeling violated and used. However, I felt like I was in too deep and I couldn't quit even if I wanted to. It's who I was, and I didn't want to lose all that I had built up over the years. I didn't want to lose my fans. I didn't want to lose my livelihood. And my "boyfriend" Erik had me convinced that I was just some stupid p.o.r.n chick who couldn't do anything else. What was I going to do if I quit? So, I didn't. Not yet.

I started sinking lower and hitting the bottle extra hard. Up until this point, I drank with a party-girl att.i.tude. It was celebratory drinking because life was indeed going pretty d.a.m.n well. But eventually I was drinking myself to bed every night and needing booze to get through Night Calls Night Calls. I was lonely and I wanted a good man to be with. I never regretted what I did for a living because it was always my choice, my way, my fantasies lived out. But the outside factors were starting to take their toll on me.

My lowest moment during what was supposed to be this "stellar year" for me came on the set of Night Calls Night Calls one random evening. I had downed a fifth of Jack Daniel's and could barely stand. I don't remember much from the night, but I do remember that R&B singer Brian McKnight was in the studio audience watching the show. We'd often have celebrities pop by to watch us tape and I always had fun interacting with them, but not that night. one random evening. I had downed a fifth of Jack Daniel's and could barely stand. I don't remember much from the night, but I do remember that R&B singer Brian McKnight was in the studio audience watching the show. We'd often have celebrities pop by to watch us tape and I always had fun interacting with them, but not that night.

"Are you OK?" Crystal Knight, my cohost, asked repeatedly. Crystal really looked out for me. She could tell by the glazed-over look in my eyes that something was way wrong.

"No. I'm not OK. I don't think I can do the show," I told her.

"You can do the show. I'll carry you. Don't worry. I'll do all the work," she a.s.sured me. She had my back. She knew I'd get fired if I couldn't do the show because I was too drunk.

I was making it through the shoot, but my condition didn't go entirely unnoticed. My producer Jamie kept saying in my earpiece, "Stick! What's wrong with you? Wake up!" My eyes had been rolling back into my head. I couldn't believe how wasted I was.

It was then that I realized how f.u.c.ked-up I was getting, and how I was about to f.u.c.k up my career and life if I didn't get myself together. I was drinking myself to sleep every night, having bad hang-overs, feeling like c.r.a.p, acting cranky to people around me, and starting to f.u.c.k up at work--the one thing that I loved. After that bad night on the Night Calls Night Calls set, I vowed to take some time off from drinking, but it wasn't easy or immediate. set, I vowed to take some time off from drinking, but it wasn't easy or immediate.

There was also the money issue. Here I was the most famous p.o.r.n star in the world, and I was still living in a small condo and driving a leased Infiniti that I would later find out was in my manager's name, not mine. I just wasn't making the money I thought I should be making. I was making about $20,000 a month between all of my gigs, and that sounds like a lot, but in the p.o.r.n industry it isn't. It's a lot of money in comparison to a civilian lifestyle, but not for an entertainer. Most actresses make a lot more than just a quarter of a million a year. And the number-one p.o.r.n star in the world is only making $240,000? Bankers make more than that! People thought I would be driving a Rolls-Royce, and I wasn't. I started seeing girls in the industry making a ton more money, wearing fancier designer clothes, and driving more expensive luxury cars. I had none of that, and I didn't understand why.

I just wasn't reaping the benefits of working as hard as I did. I always had money to pay my bills, but not as much as I should have. Erik was the one who started me getting suspicious of my situation. He said, "You know, your manager is driving a brand-new Mercedes and a brand-new Denali and she dresses really well and lives in this huge mansion and is always taking vacations. And you rent this condo. Your manager shouldn't be making more than you do." That was a big wake-up call for me.

One day, I called my manager Samantha and I told her, "Listen, I want to have lunch and there's some things I want to get off my chest." She agreed that it was time for a serious talk. She clearly had things to get off her chest too.

I'll admit it. I was becoming difficult to work with and was growing angry toward her and Digital Playground. I was showing up to work on time and never looking like a hag or anything, but I was b.i.t.c.hy and becoming difficult and demanding. I'd be like, "f.u.c.k you all. I f.u.c.king hate you. I need a drink. I'm not going on until you bring me a f.u.c.king c.o.ke. I don't want this makeup artist, I want that one." And on and on I'd go. I turned into a full-blown diva.

It wasn't just about the money. We were growing apart, and I wanted more out of life. I wanted a fuller life--a real relationship with a good guy, a social life, and, yeah, a nicer house and nicer car. It was always work, work, work, work, work. I was overworked, underpaid, stressed out, and exhausted. There was always a store signing or an appearance or a shoot or an interview. The schedule was too much. I was Digital Playground's only contract girl between 1999 and 2002. I was the face of Digital Playground, so all of the promotion fell on my tired shoulders. It was "Tera, we need you in Minneapolis. Tera, we need you in Europe."

I appreciated the work for a while, of course, but it was taking its toll on me, and I wasn't taking care of myself. It was a battle with my manager and production company, but it was also a battle with myself. I was drinking heavily to mask my true feelings, which were loneliness, pain, depression, and sadness. And underneath it all was this hunger for love and a deep connection with someone. I just wanted to be loved and have someone to love, and at the time I didn't know if staying in p.o.r.n and working at the pace I was working at would get me to that goal.

At the end of Night Calls Night Calls on Wednesday nights, there'd be a social gathering at a bar or on the set to celebrate. Instead of partic.i.p.ating, I would drink alone in my dressing room, get in my car, drive home drunk, and then drink more at home by myself. I was becoming very antisocial and experiencing a lot of highs and lows. on Wednesday nights, there'd be a social gathering at a bar or on the set to celebrate. Instead of partic.i.p.ating, I would drink alone in my dressing room, get in my car, drive home drunk, and then drink more at home by myself. I was becoming very antisocial and experiencing a lot of highs and lows.

On the days I was feeling high, I'd shop like crazy, spend what money I had, and f.u.c.k my neighbor, a grip on a shoot, or sometimes even Erik. And on the days I was low, I'd sleep for twelve hours, not answer the phone, watch MTV2 for hours on end, drink my Jack and c.o.ke or wine coolers or gin and tonic, and pa.s.s out.

At our lunch meeting I basically told my manager Sam, "Look, I've been acting the way I'm acting because I'm not happy and I want a break." She agreed that I needed a break. I was clearly miserable with my life, my relationship, and my work, and I was drinking way too much. It was obvious that I needed some time off to get my s.h.i.t together. And I started to not enjoy the s.e.x as much as I used to. It became harder to o.r.g.a.s.m, because I was just unhappy in my contract and stressed out. And that's no fun. That's why I got into p.o.r.n in the first place.

My plan was this: Take a hiatus from p.o.r.n. Get sober. Figure out why I didn't have a lot of money and where my money was going. And let the fog I was in lift a bit to get some clarity. I had no idea what I was going to do beyond that, but I knew I wanted to have a more normal life. I knew I needed to work on my self-esteem and work on myself, but I just didn't know how.

*CHAPTER 13 When Tera Met Evan As they say, timing is everything. I believe I met Evan at the perfect time in my life, but it almost didn't happen that way. In the late '90s my best friend was a Swedish lady named Anneli Adolfsson. She came to America when she was twenty years old to be a rock-and-roll and p.o.r.n photographer. And she became very successful in her field. One of the first rock stars she ever photographed was Evan Seinfeld, lead singer and ba.s.sist of the hardcore rock band Biohazard. Evan also would play a bada.s.s biker on HBO's prison drama Oz Oz.

Anneli and Evan had known each other for a long time, and she used to hang out with the band and a lot of the other hardcore bands that Evan was friends with. They basically ran in the same rock-and-roll circle.

One day, she and I were having a fun chick day in good old Sherman Oaks. We were getting our nails done, having lunch, and gossiping as girls do. Halfway through our lunch, she said to me, "I want to introduce you to this guy Evan Seinfeld, and I want to shoot you for his band's alb.u.m cover."

I asked her, "Who are we talking about? What band is he in?"

"Biohazard. They're an awesome hardcore band," she said.

"Who the f.u.c.k is Biohazard?" I was such a sn.o.b about it. "Let me know when I can be on a Metallica alb.u.m cover." I was a little too cool for school about the whole thing. When I was fourteen I was hanging out at a club in j.a.pan with Guns N' Roses, and now she wanted me to do some photo shoot with a band I'd never heard of? No thanks.

I totally dismissed it, and didn't even bother to lock the name, Evan Seinfeld, in my mind.

Fast-forward to the year 2002 when I was at the tail end of dating Erik. I would look into Erik's eyes and just not see any sparkle, and certainly not see any love for me. He never told me I was pretty, he never wined and dined me, and he never made me feel good about myself. There was no purpose to it.

One Sunday night, Erik and I were hanging out at his place, watching HBO's Oz. Oz. I'd never seen it before. I looked up at the TV screen and I saw a naked, tattooed man run across the screen with his p.e.n.i.s swinging in all its glory. This naked man was so hot and he had this strong, powerful voice. He really struck me because he had looked so bad, so strong and dangerous. He was exactly what I had always wanted in a man. He was totally unlike any guy I had ever dated before, and he was the complete opposite of the guy sitting on the couch next to me. I thought I was getting a tattooed bada.s.s when I met Erik, but he was not the real deal. In this naked man on the screen, though, I saw a nice guy with a tough-guy exterior. I instantly thought to myself, "That dark figure who's running across the screen with a big wiener is going to be my husband someday." I'd never seen it before. I looked up at the TV screen and I saw a naked, tattooed man run across the screen with his p.e.n.i.s swinging in all its glory. This naked man was so hot and he had this strong, powerful voice. He really struck me because he had looked so bad, so strong and dangerous. He was exactly what I had always wanted in a man. He was totally unlike any guy I had ever dated before, and he was the complete opposite of the guy sitting on the couch next to me. I thought I was getting a tattooed bada.s.s when I met Erik, but he was not the real deal. In this naked man on the screen, though, I saw a nice guy with a tough-guy exterior. I instantly thought to myself, "That dark figure who's running across the screen with a big wiener is going to be my husband someday."

My relationship with Erik was over at that moment.

Erik was also excited by the sight of this man, but for a different reason. They knew each other.

"Hey, Tera. Look, it's my boy Evan!"

"Oh, really. Evan who?"

"Evan Seinfeld. He's from the band Biohazard."

It still didn't click in my head that my photographer friend Anneli tried to get us together a few years earlier. But I was intrigued. I kept the name Evan Seinfeld in my head and I started calling around to everyone I knew to see if anyone knew how I could get in touch with this man. It became this "Where's Waldo?" kind of search where everyone seemed to know who he was, but couldn't give me any real leads on how to get in touch with him. Remember, this was before the days of Facebook, Mys.p.a.ce, and Twitter, where everyone is easy to find at the click of a mouse.

So, I called my friend Paul who worked in the television business. I figured since he worked in the TV industry, maybe he could help me out. He said, "Are you kidding me? You want to meet that guy Evan Seinfeld from Oz Oz?"

"Yeah, I'm really interested in meeting him. He's really hot," I replied. Paul clearly wasn't happy. He said, "I don't want you to meet Evan Seinfeld. He would be bad for you. He would make you his c.o.c.k puppet." But that just piqued my interest even more. If this hot, tattooed, strong-looking man with the big d.i.c.k wanted to make me his c.o.c.k puppet, that would be fine with me!

Paul suggested I call up HBO to try to get ahold of Evan. He gave me a number to call, and I did. But I didn't get anywhere. I was transferred from department to department until someone finally spoke to me.

"Don't hang up!" I screamed, probably sounding crazy and desperate.

"I'm looking for one of your actors," I told the lady on the phone.

"Are you a reporter?" she asked.

"No."

"Well, who are you with?"

"No one. It's a personal call."

Silence.