My flight left Burbank a few minutes behind schedule on Saturday afternoon at 2:40. Even though it was a short flight, I need some kind of visual entertainment, so I clutched my video iPod in my hand, watching KING KONG VS. GODZILLA. Upon landing, I put it in the pocket of the seat in front of me and looked out the window, mentally running through each of the 2 speeches I'd memorized, depending on which one I'd utter, if I won either nomination. Upon landing, I called the driver of the towncar that Mike Stabile of GAYPORNBLOG.COM and THESWORD.COM had graciously provided for me, letting him know that I was at curbside, ready to be picked up. The driver turned out to be a nice elderly gentleman, who chatted with me nonstop all the way to my hotel, the Best Western Americania.

My room was actually quite nice. It was a junior suite on the 3rd floor in the back courtyard. I unpacked my single outfit and laid down for an hour, then got up, showered, changed clothes and spent fifteen minutes trying to decide if I should wear my contacts or my glasses (SO unlike me). I went with the glasses.

I caught a taxi to the giftcenter, and the driver told me he had just picked up someone from there, and that there seemed to be QUITE the party going on.

As we pulled up, there was a long line waiting to get in, and a shorter line off to the right. I hoped the short line was for me. Yay! It was the Will Call line, where my ticket was supposed to be. I got in line, and immediately got the first hand on my shoulder of what would be many hands placed there that night. It was KEN KNOX from Specialty, who had done the big article on the making of my Falcon film DARE. We chatted a bit about the shoot, and then it was ticket time. I gave my name to the handsome man behind the table, he introduced himself as STEVE S., the man at GayVN who had been helping me with my reservation. He gave me my ticket ("Only one for you, Jett?" which had me thinking about my husband CVK, who was spending the weekend with his mother—it was her birthday).

I went inside and called ANTHONY DURAN, who had asked me to let him know when I arrived. "We're on our way!" he yelled into his phone. I decided to stand at the front of the red carpet to wait for him and immediately felt underdressed. In past years, when the show was at the Rage in West Hollywood, the attire was pretty casual. But this night, the majority of attendees were in suits, and I was wearing black jeans, a dark red button-down shirt with a black sleeveless T underneath and Converse sneakers I had designed myself: black on the outside, red on the inside, with a white tongue and heel stripe. CHAD HUNT walked up, a fashionable scarf twirled around his neck. We hugged, and he paid a compliment to my shoes. "Those are awesome!" he said. "What's wrong with your voice?" I explained that while I'd gotten over the head cold I'd caught in Vegas six weeks previous, my vocal cords were still fucked up, like dipping guitar strings into a glass of pudding.

From there, it was a blur of "Heys!" and "Hi's!" and hugs and black slaps: TORY MASON, MATT MAJORS, COLE RYAN, MATTHEW RUSH, ERIC RHODES, ADAM, TROY and LEIF GOBO from Falcon, JOHN BRUNO, CHI CHI LARUE, DOUG JEFFRIES, and ROB NOVINGER from Channel 1, DAMON PHOENIX, SCOTT BOARDMAN and DAVID FOREST, among others. I stood with Anthony Duran and the Falcon party, trying to decide if we should walk the red carpet or sneak onto the main floor via another route. We decided to make a run for it on the red carpet, and as we did, I saw JACK SHAMAMA of GAYPORNBLOG.COM at the other end, snapping pics of crimson carpet walkees for his live blogging of the event. "Make sure to say hello to him before you go when he's not so busy," I thought to myself.

I chatted with John Bruno for a bit, momentarily distracted, and when I looked back, the entire Falcon party was gone, blowing—I mean, blown to the four winds. I walked onto the main floor and thought it was decorated nicely. There was a big screen behind the stage, and tables filled the space, napkins and glasses laid out perfectly, as though for a much more legitimate function, and a bucket of champagne in the center of each table. "Nice," I thought.

A hand grabbed my shoulder from behind. I turned around, and there was my former exclusive JASON RIDGE at Ridgeline Films.com. We hugged, warmly and full of emotion. "Congratulations on your nominations tonight," I said, "and good luck."

"It's all because of you," he said, looking sexier with his buzzed hair and heavily-stubbled beard than any man has a right to.

"Me? What did I do?"

"You discovered me," he said, flashing me that million-dollar smile.

"Yes, but you've gotten here on your own," I told him. And I hear your first film is selling very well."

"Apparently," he replied, "but I think I'm going to spend more time behind the camera. People hear I've started my own company, and they think I'm not available for freelancing on their films."

"We'll see if we can remedy that," I told him. He walked off to continue mingling, and I felt another hand grab my shoulder from behind (I swear that doesn't happen to me, as a rule). It was ANDREW ROSEN from JETSETMEN.COM He looked sexy as hell in a textured shirt and tie. Not bad for a man in his 50's. lol. (Joke!) Hugs. "Good luck tonight," I rasped.

"What's wrong with your voice?" he asked.

"I shredded my vocal chords," I explained. "I've been singing 'The Trolley Song' ever since I got off the plane." I looked around for JASON SECHREST of JASONCURIOUS.COM as I said this, in case he overheard me and flew into a panic for stealing his act. Mike Stabile walked by, a frantic look on his face. "I have to remember to catch him later and say hi when he's not so busy," I thought.

I walked around and found the Falcon Players off to the side of the floor. I told Leif that if I was going to sit at the table in front of the stage, but if I didn't win anything, I might come running back to their table for a good cry. "I'll join you," he said. I looked around for LOU CASS, but couldn't find him.

"Please take your seats. The show is about to begin," a voice came over the p.a. system. I plopped myself down in a chair at the Falcon table next to John Bruno. Eric Rhodes sat behind me, Matthew Rush across the table next to owner TODD MONTGOMERY and Hall-of-Fame inductee PAUL BARESSI sat on Matt's left. There were 3 other people unknown to me.

Paul introduced himself to me, then asked me, "What's wrong with your voice?"

"I was rimmng a clown and a circus elephant stepped on my neck," I replied in a manner that wasn't as "douchebaggy" as it reads here. I also coughed once in a while, and even though I covered my mouth with my hand, I noticed Paul jumping a little each time as though I was going to infect him.

A waitress came around, opened the champagne and poured some in all the glasses. When it comes to wine, I'm usually a gulper, but tonight I was going to sip. I allowed the tiniest trace of fluid between my lips, and as I did so, I noticed the strong scent of B.O. coming from someone in the near vacinity. I wrinkled my nose and hoped I might get used to it quickly, as it was certainly, annoyingly foul.

The show began, and I pulled out my cell phone to take pictures for this site. Chi Chi came out and introduced LADY BUNNY, who danced and lip-synced up a storm.



Next, two houseplants were brought out onto the stage and hosts DERECK and ROMAINE did their voices from backstage as a joke referring to Mike Stabile calling them "houseplants" on The Sword. It was funny.

I tried to take another picture, but my camera phone refused to co-operate, flashing "Camera Failure" every time I pressed the button. This happened for the rest of the evening, so I'm afraid you'll have to make do with you one above as my single visual.

The evening pressed onward, and as the show began to run late, some awards were read with only the winner announced and the reciprients told not to come up on stage, but to get their awards later from a GayVN official. Matthew Rush and Eric Rhodes read off a chunk of about 11 this way and ended with Matt having the best line of the evening. Before he walked offstage, he leaned into the microphone and muttered, "Sorry for wasting your time." Great!

The show progressed fairly well, with the big winners being GRUNTS, THE INTERN and LINK: THE EVOLUTION. When it came to Best Screenplay, I gulped down the rest of my champagne and crossed my arms over my nipples, which had inexplicably gotten hard.

The award was read by a group of TITAN men, and super hunk DEAN FLYNN came to my name:

"Jeff Blakk, DARE, Falcon."

He immediately read my next nomination for UNSPEAKABLE, but by then my hearing was no longer working, so I don't know if he got it right the 2nd time. "JEFF Blakk? JEFF?" Was it misspelled on his card? Was he as illiterate as he was handsome? Was he drunk? High? Had his contacts rolled back into his eye sockets? The only thing that would save the evening for me was if I would actually win the damn thing.

"Are you nominated for two screenplsys?" Eric Rhodes said, leaning into my ear. I turned and nodded yes. "Wow," he said.

"The winner is...Jerry Douglas...BROTHERHOOD." My evening was ruined. Applause, applause, applause.

Suddenly,I felt a warm hand on my shoulder from behind. I turned, and Eric was smiling at me, letting me know it was okay. What a sweet guy. And to think, just 30 minutes earlier, DAMIEN CROSS had been bending over next to him with his face in Eric's lap. lol. But seriously, that was an awesome moment. The hand gesture, not Damien's face in Eric's lap, although that was probably awesome for Eric. Thanks, friend.

Soon, it was time for Performer of the Year. Eric was nominated, and he (and Jason Ridge) were the only ones I clapped for. The winner was Jake Deckard, and I turned to Eric and patted his knee to show my support. He smiled back at me.

The final winners were CHRIS WARD and BEN LEON of RAGING STALLION who took home Best Director and Best Picture, both for GRUNTS. Chris told the crowd he was retiring and leaving the company to Ben.

Derek and Romaine wrapped things up and people began to disperse. Now, the people at my table had gotten up and sat back down throughout the evening, and in such multiple combinations that I was finally able to determine who was putting off the B.O. I won't say here who it was, but if you see me in a bar some night and buy me a drink, I just might reveal the oaf-fender.

As I made my way outside, a hand grabbed my shoulder from above ("God?" Cue Like a Prayer). I looked up and standing on the 2nd level (where the bar was), I saw WARREN from MALEFLIX looking down at me. "Where's CVK?" he asked. "You really have to ask that question?" I replied. It's common knowledge that my husband hates these functions. Not because of the industry, but he just can't stand crowds. "What's wrong with your voice?" he asked.

"Everyone at the AMG table dipped their dicks in my champagne," I said. "I don't just have a throat culture, I have a throat multi-culture."

"Nice to see you," Warren said, stroking my goatee. I purred at him, then went outside and chatted some more with Leif Gobo. I told him that I couldn't see the other Falcon table, and he said that when the lights came on everyone there scattered like roaches. "By the way, what's wrong with your voice?"

I thought for a second, then: "I'm done," I said, giving up.

While we were talking, a plastered DINK FLAMINGO of ACTIVEDUTY.COM came up to us.

"Hello, Dink," I said.

"Spzz," he uttered, teetering like a dreidel at Hannukah.

"You look like you've been having fun."

"Snuh," he gurgled, little baby bubbles of saliva forming on his lips as he leaned into me for support.

"Been imbibing, have we?"

"Splurzzle."

With that, he walked away. I turned back to Leif, "So , anyway, Carrie Fisher's show was really good?"

EARL from Falcon, approached me next. I introduced myself, and his eyes got HUGE.

"YOU are Jett Blakk?" he said.

"Yes..."

He grabbed my hand and pumped it vigorously. "I am SUCH a fan! I think you're AMAZING!"

The evening was looking up again.

"I'm in charge of the web site at Falcon, and I just love your work," he gushed. In fact, he gushed for the next 10 minutes, taking my picture and asking me for a hug, which I gladly gave him. If I ever need a PR guy, Earl would be first in the running. While this was going on, my cell phone alerted me that I had a message from JEREMY SPENCER at XBIZ.COM You here?

Yes, I texted back.

Where?

In front.

After Earl left, I saw LUCAS KAZAN, and introduced myself. "I'm a big fan of yours," I told him. He smiled and shook my hand. I congratulated him on his deserved Lifetime Achievement award and told him (honestly) that he was my favorite director. He brings such sensuality and eroticism to his films through his visuals, music and the laisez-faire attitude of his sex scenes. He told me to stop, then asked me to meet him in L.A. next month for lunch. I can't wait.

Suddenly, Jeremy Spencer appeared at my side, asking if anyone knew where the after-party was. I didn't know of any after-parties, I told him, and was planning on going back to my hotel and going to bed. I had to get up at 5:30 the next morning to get to the airport for my flight home. "Did you hear the rumor going around that I was going back to GayVN magazine?" Jeremy asked me.

"No," I said. "Are you?"

"Phffft!" he sputtered. I took that as a "no."

By this time, there were only 5 of us in front of the giftcenter: myself, Jeremy, Lucas, an man I didn't know and GINO COLBERT. We snagged 2 cabs, and as Gino and Lucas started to climb into theirs, Jeremy caught Gino's ear. "Did you hear the rumor that I'm going back to GayVN magazine?" he asked.

"No, but I hope it's not true," Gino said.

"Why?"

"Because when you were there, you were a real cunt to me," Gino said, slamming the taxi door shut. As it pulled away from the curb, Jeremy turned to me, his mouth hanging open. "Did you hear what he said to me?"

"A little. I saw that it was tense over there.," I said.

"He actually called me a cunt!" Jeremy said.

"Let's talk about it in the cab," I said, urging Jeremy toward our vehicle, which whisked us away.

In the cab, Jeremy was nonstop: "I can't believe he did that! He actually called me a cunt! Can you believe that? He called me a cunt!"

"You should call him tomorrow after you're...feeling better...and find out why he thinks you weren't nice to him when you were at GayVN," I suggested.

"A cunt! He called me a cunt!! I can't believe he called me a cunt!"

The taxi dropped me off at my hotel, and Jeremy wouldn't let me pay my share of the taxi ride. "A cunt! Can you believe...?" I could still hear as the cab pulled away.

Back at my hotel, I was starving. I hadn't eaten since 8:30 that morning, but I decided to go to bed hungry. I crawled between the sheets and laid there, unable to sleep. I thought I'd get out my video iPod and watch a bit more of KING KONG VS. GODZILLA to see if that would tire me out. As I searched through my satchel, I couldn't find it. I looked around the room, frantic in my attempt, but no luck. Then, a horrible realization hit me: upon landing, I had put the video iPod and my headphones into the pocket of the seat in front of me, then grabbed my bags and left. I could not remember putting the device back into my bag! I had left it on the plane!

I called Southwest Airlines, and the guy told me the Oakland Lost & Found had just closed for the day, but they opened at 6am the next morning. He also said that the plane should have been cleaned before it returned to Burbank. I went back to bed and fell into a fitful sleep, waking up at 3:00 to some idiot upstairs playing his TV too loudly. I just laid in bed worrying about my iPod. Suddenly at 3:43am, my cell phone chimed that I had received a text message. I saw it was from Jeremy. I hit the SELECT button.

Can you believe Gino called me a cunt?

What did you do, text him at 3:43 am? I wrote back, then laid in bed wide awake until the alarm went off at 5:30.

I hurriedly packed, then went downstairs and paid my bill. The man with the towncar was waiting for me. At the airport, he dropped me off at Baggage Claim, and I checked with Lost & Found. Nothing had been turned in. I filled out a report, and the woman told me to check with Burbank when I arrived. I did, and there was nothing there, either. When I got home, I phoned CVK to tell him I was back safely. He knew something was wrong; CVK can hear my voice sweat. I told him I'd lost my video iPod, which was a Christmas present from him 2 years ago. I now had it loaded with about 10 movies and about 50 trailers. "Maybe someone will turn it in."

"Right," he said. "The cleaning crew finds an iPod, it's gone."

I hung up and did a slow burn. The only consoling thought I had was the hope that whoever now possessed it was a big, macho, homophobic asshole who would show it off to his friends and unwittingly play the trailer for SQUIRT, his horror building as the gay hardcore trailer unfolds before him and his pals, his sexuality becoming ever increasingly questionable in their eyes.

At that, I smile.

On to the Grabbys!

JBK