The date: January 14, 1994
Time: 7:30p.m.
Place: Hana Sushi, West Los Angeles

“Jewel, what am I doing with my life?” moaned my girlfriend, Beth.

“What are you whining about? Huh? How would you like to get rejected daily and thank people for doing it? I need a new career,” I mumbled, my mouth stuffed with sushi, “I have an idea! Let's start a glass company!” I felt inspired.

Beth gazed at me across her California Roll with a blank stare. “A what?”

“You know...glass. As in, ‘glass.’ The thing you make windows out of! Cars have them...clear, tinted, clouded...glass!”

“Jewel, you've had too much saki,” she sighed.

“No, seriously, Beth, think about it...we own a glass company...the Big One hits, an eight-point-something.” I could tell Beth was struggling to follow my logic. “The entire Los Angeles basin gets destroyed. Think about all those broken windows that will have to be replaced...”

A pained expression came over Beth's face, “Yeah, go on...”

“How many glass companies are there in L.A.? Half a dozen, tops. We have our glass shipped to us from somewhere like Ohio...somewhere where there are no earthquakes. We make a killing! We could retire. I'll cruise the world and you can do whatever it is a newly-rich twenty-five-year-old does. You know, I've never been to Borneo.”

There was silence. Beth ate her tuna sushi. My mind began to reel with the possibilities of instant wealth. My eyes grew wide in excitement. Beth picked up her California Roll and ate it. I couldn't hold back my excitement any longer. “Well, wha‘ do ya think?” I panted.

Slowly, she picked up the saki and took a dainty sip. Placing the cup carefully back on the table, she wondered, “Yeah...but suppose the Big One doesn't come?”

The date: January 17, 1994
Time: 4:31a.m.
Place: My bed.

I believe I heard a roar. But of course, I was sleeping. So, naturally I thought I was dreaming of a pride of lions somewhere roaming the Serengeti. It was a slow shake at first...again, I thought, perhaps I was in a Range Rover, cruising around the pride, taking pictures with a most brilliant flash bulb. It was at one of these flashes that an especially angry lioness took flight and charged at me towards my white, open-air Range Rover. My heart skipped a beat, I knew in an instant her jaws were going to lock down upon me. I gasped. And the next thing I knew for sure was that I was hanging on to the edges of my bed, screaming. A city-owned transformer had blown outside my window, illuminating the inside of my bedroom. I tried to grasp the reality of what was happening...walls bending towards me. The white light of the transformer, waving around madly, creating an eerie horror movie feel. My bookshelves ripped out of the wall and, all of a sudden, Rudolph Valentino, Charlie Chaplin, Heinrich Himmler and Gore Vidal were in bed with me. My TV threw itself on top of me. My closet doors flung open and my clothes leaped out. I couldn't move. I thought fast: When did I agree to appear in this horror movie and when were they going to call, “Cut?” Then I reminded myself that I don't have the capacity to throw myself into character that completely...

All of a sudden, everything went silent. No more light, no more shaking, no anything...but tons of silence. My heart pounded so loud that I could hear it. No, this was no movie. Was it the Big One? Yeah...and Beth laughed at me about my glass company idea. I guess I had the last laugh. I guess. Then I started to cry.

I stumbled over books, too dark to see, struggling to open the bedroom door. Everything was pitch black and still nothing stirred. “Popcorn?” I cried. Silence. Oh, God...the silence. Where are my neighbors? Why aren't they making any noise? “Popcorn?” I fell over my stereo cabinet. Damn, what was it doing way over here? It was on the wrong side of the room. Clothes. I wasn't wearing any. Trying to keep focused, I thought, put on anything you can find. I dropped to the floor searching over books, CD's, papers...sweat pants. I must find a shirt, something...I felt something shake. Shivering among my strewed-about teddy bears was my dog, Popcorn. “I Love you, Pop,” I squeezed. Pop in hand, I groped through the darkness to the direction of the front door, slipping and sliding on God-knows-what. Where is the flashlight? Where are my car keys?

I found the door and yanked it open. It was dead quiet.

I scurried down the front stairs. Where are my neighbors? Maybe this really is just a dream? Maybe, the saki I'd had two days earlier had fermented in my tummy and now I was hallucinating.

But this was no dream. I reached the sidewalk and stood there. It was so dark. What time was it? And, one by one, I saw my neighbors come out of their apartments, walking as if in a daze. One man from across the street had a portable radio. We all gathered around in the dark, listening, without saying a word, to a newsperson announce, “Los Angeles has been rocked by a major earthquake.”

“Gee...we needed him to tell us that?” asked one neighbor.

“Why would we all be standing in the middle of the street in our underwear at 4:45 in the morning if L.A. hadn't been rocked by a major earthquake?” asked another.

“Must have been right under us,” said another. (And it sure felt that way. It turned out later, it was miles from us, over in the Valley...)

There was no point in going back inside with the electricity out and the aftershocks continuing. But finally, as the dawn broke and the tremors subsided, I struggled back up the stairs to what was left of my apartment. I stood at the front door, now able to see a little of what had happened. Everything I owned was on the floor or broken...tables, hutches, computer. I gazed out across the street to an apartment building missing all its windows. Boy, that glass company didn't look like such a bad investment, after all...

On the lighter side of life...

In Hollywood, when someone in power — say, a producer or a director — is to meet with a young actress, Standard Operating Procedure is for them to either suggest a candlelit dinner or promise her a part in his next project. I have definitely heard my share of both. “You'll be in my next picture for sure” is one of the great fibs of Hollywood, right up there with, “The Porsche is paid-for” and “I have an iron-clad commitment from the studio.” Yeah, right...

This is why I don't believe the line about being in his next picture and I always avoid the candlelit dinners. Of course, if the dinner were with Kevin Costner, that might be different.

So when Pierre David, President/Owner of the Image Organization called, requesting a meeting with me, just to see what I was ike, I was wary. Being cynical and all, I thought I would wear my double-strength, heavy-duty, armor-plated titanium-based alloy suit to the meeting...you know, just to ward off any inappropriate feelings.

Well, when I went to his office, we talked about my hopes and dreams...the usual stuff...and he didn't suggest some romantic getaway. Not at all...he was a complete gentleman. Of course, it ended up with the obligatory promise, “I'll be shooting my next movie soon. Maybe we can find you a part...not a very big one, I'm afraid, but a part. How does that sound?”

What was I going to say? “Oh, gee, Mr. David, thanks, but I'm waiting to see if I get the title role in ‘Schindler's List II’?”

“That'd be fantastic!” I said. Walking out of the building I wanted to believe Pierre, but experience had taught me that the chance of him actually meaning it were slim to none.

Four weeks later, his casting director called to see if I wanted to play a role in “Scanner Cop II.”

It's not a very big part but — and this means a lot to an actress — I didn't even have to audition. Okay, so it's not the lead...but I didn't have to audition! I play a nurse...a real nurse, not one of those movie ones, wearing a push-up bra, stockings and high heels. No, I play a real honest-to-goodness, hospital style, non-exposed nurse. And I owe it all to one man, Pierre David of the Image Organization, a man who keeps his promises. Maybe we can have him cloned.

I had another acting job in March. As some of you may know, last year, I did some cartoon voiceover work for the CBS Saturday morning show, “Garfield and Friends.” Well, they had me back, this time to play a valley girl. All that research at the malls to play Crystal in the “Hollywood Hot Tubs” movies is paying off.

In the same session where I did my role, they recorded a cartoon about a prize fighter who is always hungry and they got former Heavyweight Champion George Foreman to play the part. So I got my picture taken with George. (I really wanted to get him to sign a pair of boxing gloves but none of the Sporting Goods stores around had real, lace-up gloves. They all had the sissy kind with Velcro in them. I wouldn't dream of asking George Foreman to sign a pair of those.)

It went real well even though I think I should have played the fighter and George should have played the Valley Girl. It will be on in October so watch for it!

I've received tons of letters wanting to know how to get a copy of my next book, Totally Live Nude Girls, excerpted in December's Premiere. It's funny that you ask. As I write this, the cover is being laid-out on the computer next to me and, if all goes well and no earthquakes, it should be out in a bookstore or through me in December. It takes a long time to produce a book.

Did I mention eighteen pages of pictures? Great text? Awesome, risque cover? Lots of humor, tears, silliness and information about the hard life, working in strip joints in the greater Los Angeles area (and the even harder life, trying to get paid.)

Speaking of things that I'm working on...“If I'm So Famous, How Come Nobody's Ever Heard Of Me?” is the next home video featuring me in a bikini, this time somewhere tropical and with lots of friends of mine who have large breasts and tiny swimsuits. In fact, it's like an optical illusion...the larger the breast, the smaller the swimsuit appears to the naked eye.

This one will be a definite must-see. Most of you have “The Private World of Jewel Shepard” and if you liked that this one is even better. Better graphics, box cover, photography, and more breast per frame. Coming to you in August (I hope)...

Lastly, remember all about “Prisoners,” that Roger Corman epic that I starred in, shot down in the Philippines. (If you don't remember, you haven't been busy, studying your Jewel Shepard Fan Club Newsletter.)

Well, it's now called “Caged Heat II.” Or maybe it's “Caged Heat III.” (I thought they told me “II” but someone else told me there'd already been a “II.” Oh, well. Maybe we'll all find out together. Check your local video store in August or September.