
The Exercise Myth Well, let's start this month with a dip into the ol' Jewel Mailbag and see what's on my fans’ minds... Dear Jewel, Why haven't you put out your own exercise video? You have such a wonderful figure. Every woman in the world should learn the secret of converting her body into one just like yours. Stan Hoberman Kansas City, MO Okay, I guess we all know what's on Stan's mind, don't we? Let’s see what the next letter says... Dear Jewel, I wonder why you haven't put together your own exercise video? It seems as if everyone else in the world has... Richard Laredo Peoria, IL Richard seems to have been conferring with Stan. Here's a letter from Ron Groth. Let’s see what Ron has on his mind... Dear Jewel, Don't forget to have the recommended daily requirement of something from the four basic food groups: sugar, salt, grease and alcohol. Dinner and dessert at McDonald’s should take care of three of them. Ron Groth Penfield, NY Hmm...I seem to notice a pattern emerging...men concerned with my body and what I put into it. It’s really nice to know you guys are so concerned with maintaining my figure. Years ago, I had this idea to put out a video tape featuring me and several gay guys demonstrating exercises but Jane Fonda stole my idea. It didn't take long to realize that I would have to leave all the exercise tapes to the queens of fitness, Jane Fonda, Cathy Smith, Richard Simmons... One day, this friend of mine (a famous movie director and producer) came to me and said, “Hey, Jewel, how would you like to be in a fitness video with naked women, tons of hunks and you being the star?” Silence. “...actually in truth, four topless women, three guys...uh, and I’m not sure they”ll be hunks...but a really fantastic location...Maui! I believe it’s one of your favorite places. And you’ll, of course, be the main force...in fact, the personality behind this whole thing! How does that sound?” Now, this is where I made my fatal mistake. And it only took one two-syllable word uttered low under my breath... “Maui...“ There are some words that have a magic effect on me. For example, say “Sale” to me and I’m there, credit card in hand. If a store was selling life-sized stuffed hippopotami at 50% off, I’d be there, buying one. I don’t really need a stuffed hippopotamus in my house but at 50% off, who could resist? Another good one is “sushi.“ I love sushi. Especially sushi as served up by a real arrogant, nasty sushi chef. For some reason, the nastier the chef is, the better the sushi. (Or “the fresher the chef, the fresher the fish”) andanother used to be “Maui.” There was a time that Rush Limbaugh could have invited me to go body-surfing in Maui (or, in his case, body-yachting) and I would have been at the airport quicker than you could say “Don Ho.” Here is the story of my latest trip to Maui and why, from now on, I’d rather enjoy the tropical climes of downtown Cleveland on a real humid day. Next thing I knew, I was jetting off to what I hoped was going to be a fun-filled one-week working vacation. Little did I know what was in store for me. There were a few clues, even before I left LAX, that I was not in for the dream vacation of a lifetime. For instance, when I got to the airport...I couldn’t find the airline. In fact, nobody at the terminal had ever heard of “Leisure Air”...and I mean nobody; not the ticket people, not the taxi drivers, not even the hare-krishnas. I’ve heard of “no-frills” airlines that do away with unnecessary extras but you kind of expect them to have certain things...like a gate. I searched and searched. I’ve heard of airlines losing your reservation but this was the first time a reservation had ever lost an airline. For a while there, I thought I might have to fax myself to Maui. Finally, at 3:00, fully two hours later, I found Leisure Airlines, hidden away in a phone booth (or what seemed like one) at the Southwest Terminal. This would have been cause for rejoicing except that the plane had taken off at 2:45. I asked the lady in the phone booth — excuse me, behind the counter — when the next plane took off. She said, “Day after tomorrow.” Apparently, this airline only flies to Maui on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I’ll spare you all my further troubles in getting to Maui, especially the part where I finally saw the plane they wanted me to fly on (Usually, I prefer two wings) and the glorious in-flight meal (is cream cheese supposed to make noise?). I especially loved the part where the pilot came back and asked if any of us thought we could recognize Maui from the air. Fifty-two hours later... I was in front of the camera, demonstrating the Jewel-A-Childs meal to a healthy appetite. “Throw out all those non-fat, low-cal items...grab that whipped cream and chow down on your favorite food!” (I didn’t write this) There, in front of me, was a poor, innocent young lad...my cooking helper. Actually, he was the meal. Before we were done, he was covered with grapes, strawberries, whipped cream, chocolate, and oysters. (If you really need to diet, try this combination some time. It’s hard not to lose weight when you’re constantly throwing up.) I guess I should explain that this was a comedy I was making. Well, I think it was a comedy. I’m relatively certain it wasn’t an episode of Masterpiece Theatre...unless they’ve added topless women to it. It’s a tape called “Sexercise,” hosted by yours truly, and it will be in stores early next year. I’ll try to announce an official date here before that time; maybe I can even get some advance copies to sell you, my beloved ones. But I had such a horrible time on Maui with the bad flight and the terrible accomodations and the awful food and the mosquitoes the size of Hulk Hogan that the next time someone suggests a trip to Maui to me, I’m going to make them a three-word suggestion. Two of the words are verbs and the third is an adverb. I want to offer a special welcome this issue to readers of Joe Bob Briggs’ newsletter. Joe Bob has been nice enough to plug my little vanity press operation in his little vanity press operation and I thank him for it. He is also doing a fine job of keeping alive the spirit and history of the Great American Drive-In Movie so that teenagers of the future will all know the problems of trying to make-out in a Buick with the gearshift knob in your navel and a large Diet Coke spilling into the speakers. However, Joe Bob is shirking in one of his most sacred duties. So far, he hasn’t had Jewel Shepard on his TV show! And he thinks the fact that they haven’t shown any of my movies is an excuse! As some of you may know, I’ve been working on my second book which is all about my experiences as a stripper and how I stopped doing that and broke into acting. A lot of you have asked when the book will be out and the answer is hoefully December but I’m not sure. In the mean time, here’s a little excerpt of Totally Live Nude Girls to tide you over... At the mention of the word “Money,” almost as if that were his cue, an unsmiling man parts the curtains and steps into the club. Even without turning, just from the look on Barb’s face, I know who it is: It’s Helmut. “Oh, lord, there is a God in heaven...” cries Barb, blessing herself with the symbol of the cross and looking up to the ceiling. Helmut is here. As Helmut walks through the turnstile, you hear a faint call...“It's Helmut” being muttered around the room, as if Jesus had been resurrected for the first time. The sound builds as rhythmic as the bad disco music Candy dances to. Finally, someone squeals, “Helmut!” In an Arnold Schwarzenegger accent, “The Helmut” speaks “How are you, my darlings? I haf missed you so.” A circle of eager-to-please women surround him, looking with worship upon him. (Oh, Helmut, believe me, we have missed you more.) To the uninformed, Helmut is the Daddy Warbucks of them all; the owner of every tool-and-die company from here to Mississippi...and the supporter of several women. “Jul-el, come here. Sit beside me,” he says as he pats the seat. (Hey, now, this could be worth bucks!) “I vant you to tell me somsing,” he pauses. (What? What, I wonder in anticipation?) “Who is dat little blonde over there?” Helmut points to a girl in the corner of the room. Super. So he doesn’t want me. “Uh, her name is Precious. You know she has a boyfriend.” (Yeah, I know that was a pretty rotten thing to say. But, sometimes in life, you’ve just got to say “what the fuck?”) Helmut looks at me and smiles. “I don’t care if she has a boyfriend.” Leaning over to me in a hushed tone, as if it were a secret, he whispers, “You know I’m married. Maybe I could help her out.” I would also like to thank Tim Greaves of Hampshire, England for designing the logo for this issue of the Jewel Shepard Fan Club Newsletter. He was quite observant in noticing the different logos that appear from newsletter to newsletter. The reason is a simple one, actually...I keep forgetting to save the logo. So when it comes time to do another newsletter I have to go through the process of picking typefaces, scrolling down the endless list in my Quark Express program. So, Tim, thanks. You saved me from at least fifteen minutes of decision-making. Every now and then, I’m sent a picture of me and a fan that I have had the pleasure of actually meeting in person at a convention. I would like to share those with you here now, and thank those of you sending me the pictures. Thanks.
_{© 1994, 2001 Jewel Shepard, All Rights Reserved.}

The Exercise Myth

Well, let's start this month with a dip into the ol' Jewel Mailbag and see what's on my fans’ minds...

Dear Jewel,
Why haven't you put out your own exercise video? You have such a wonderful figure. Every woman in the world should learn the secret of converting her body into one just like yours.
Stan Hoberman
Kansas City, MO

Okay, I guess we all know what's on Stan's mind, don't we? Let’s see what the next letter says...

Dear Jewel,
I wonder why you haven't put together your own exercise video? It seems as if everyone else in the world has...
Richard Laredo
Peoria, IL

Richard seems to have been conferring with Stan. Here's a letter from Ron Groth. Let’s see what Ron has on his mind...

Dear Jewel,
Don't forget to have the recommended daily requirement of something from the four basic food groups: sugar, salt, grease and alcohol. Dinner and dessert at McDonald’s should take care of three of them.
Ron Groth
Penfield, NY

Hmm...I seem to notice a pattern emerging...men concerned with my body and what I put into it. It’s really nice to know you guys are so concerned with maintaining my figure. Years ago, I had this idea to put out a video tape featuring me and several gay guys demonstrating exercises but Jane Fonda stole my idea.

It didn't take long to realize that I would have to leave all the exercise tapes to the queens of fitness, Jane Fonda, Cathy Smith, Richard Simmons...

One day, this friend of mine (a famous movie director and producer) came to me and said, “Hey, Jewel, how would you like to be in a fitness video with naked women, tons of hunks and you being the star?”

Silence.

“...actually in truth, four topless women, three guys...uh, and I’m not sure they”ll be hunks...but a really fantastic location...Maui! I believe it’s one of your favorite places. And you’ll, of course, be the main force...in fact, the personality behind this whole thing! How does that sound?”

Now, this is where I made my fatal mistake. And it only took one two-syllable word uttered low under my breath...

“Maui...“

There are some words that have a magic effect on me. For example, say “Sale” to me and I’m there, credit card in hand. If a store was selling life-sized stuffed hippopotami at 50% off, I’d be there, buying one. I don’t really need a stuffed hippopotamus in my house but at 50% off, who could resist?

Another good one is “sushi.“ I love sushi. Especially sushi as served up by a real arrogant, nasty sushi chef. For some reason, the nastier the chef is, the better the sushi. (Or “the fresher the chef, the fresher the fish”)

andanother used to be “Maui.” There was a time that Rush Limbaugh could have invited me to go body-surfing in Maui (or, in his case, body-yachting) and I would have been at the airport quicker than you could say “Don Ho.” Here is the story of my latest trip to Maui and why, from now on, I’d rather enjoy the tropical climes of downtown Cleveland on a real humid day.

Next thing I knew, I was jetting off to what I hoped was going to be a fun-filled one-week working vacation. Little did I know what was in store for me. There were a few clues, even before I left LAX, that I was not in for the dream vacation of a lifetime. For instance, when I got to the airport...I couldn’t find the airline. In fact, nobody at the terminal had ever heard of “Leisure Air”...and I mean nobody; not the ticket people, not the taxi drivers, not even the hare-krishnas. I’ve heard of “no-frills” airlines that do away with unnecessary extras but you kind of expect them to have certain things...like a gate.

I searched and searched. I’ve heard of airlines losing your reservation but this was the first time a reservation had ever lost an airline. For a while there, I thought I might have to fax myself to Maui.

Finally, at 3:00, fully two hours later, I found Leisure Airlines, hidden away in a phone booth (or what seemed like one) at the Southwest Terminal. This would have been cause for rejoicing except that the plane had taken off at 2:45. I asked the lady in the phone booth — excuse me, behind the counter — when the next plane took off. She said, “Day after tomorrow.” Apparently, this airline only flies to Maui on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

I’ll spare you all my further troubles in getting to Maui, especially the part where I finally saw the plane they wanted me to fly on (Usually, I prefer two wings) and the glorious in-flight meal (is cream cheese supposed to make noise?). I especially loved the part where the pilot came back and asked if any of us thought we could recognize Maui from the air.

Fifty-two hours later...

I was in front of the camera, demonstrating the Jewel-A-Childs meal to a healthy appetite. “Throw out all those non-fat, low-cal items...grab that whipped cream and chow down on your favorite food!” (I didn’t write this) There, in front of me, was a poor, innocent young lad...my cooking helper. Actually, he was the meal. Before we were done, he was covered with grapes, strawberries, whipped cream, chocolate, and oysters. (If you really need to diet, try this combination some time. It’s hard not to lose weight when you’re constantly throwing up.) I guess I should explain that this was a comedy I was making. Well, I think it was a comedy. I’m relatively certain it wasn’t an episode of Masterpiece Theatre...unless they’ve added topless women to it. It’s a tape called “Sexercise,” hosted by yours truly, and it will be in stores early next year. I’ll try to announce an official date here before that time; maybe I can even get some advance copies to sell you, my beloved ones.

But I had such a horrible time on Maui with the bad flight and the terrible accomodations and the awful food and the mosquitoes the size of Hulk Hogan that the next time someone suggests a trip to Maui to me, I’m going to make them a three-word suggestion. Two of the words are verbs and the third is an adverb.

I want to offer a special welcome this issue to readers of Joe Bob Briggs’ newsletter. Joe Bob has been nice enough to plug my little vanity press operation in his little vanity press operation and I thank him for it. He is also doing a fine job of keeping alive the spirit and history of the Great American Drive-In Movie so that teenagers of the future will all know the problems of trying to make-out in a Buick with the gearshift knob in your navel and a large Diet Coke spilling into the speakers. However, Joe Bob is shirking in one of his most sacred duties. So far, he hasn’t had Jewel Shepard on his TV show! And he thinks the fact that they haven’t shown any of my movies is an excuse!

As some of you may know, I’ve been working on my second book which is all about my experiences as a stripper and how I stopped doing that and broke into acting. A lot of you have asked when the book will be out and the answer is hoefully December but I’m not sure. In the mean time, here’s a little excerpt of Totally Live Nude Girls to tide you over...

At the mention of the word “Money,” almost as if that were his cue, an unsmiling man parts the curtains and steps into the club. Even without turning, just from the look on Barb’s face, I know who it is: It’s Helmut. “Oh, lord, there is a God in heaven...” cries Barb, blessing herself with the symbol of the cross and looking up to the ceiling. Helmut is here.

As Helmut walks through the turnstile, you hear a faint call...“It's Helmut” being muttered around the room, as if Jesus had been resurrected for the first time. The sound builds as rhythmic as the bad disco music Candy dances to. Finally, someone squeals, “Helmut!”

In an Arnold Schwarzenegger accent, “The Helmut” speaks “How are you, my darlings? I haf missed you so.” A circle of eager-to-please women surround him, looking with worship upon him. (Oh, Helmut, believe me, we have missed you more.) To the uninformed, Helmut is the Daddy Warbucks of them all; the owner of every tool-and-die company from here to Mississippi...and the supporter of several women.

“Jul-el, come here. Sit beside me,” he says as he pats the seat. (Hey, now, this could be worth bucks!)

“I vant you to tell me somsing,” he pauses. (What? What, I wonder in anticipation?) “Who is dat little blonde over there?” Helmut points to a girl in the corner of the room.

Super. So he doesn’t want me. “Uh, her name is Precious. You know she has a boyfriend.” (Yeah, I know that was a pretty rotten thing to say. But, sometimes in life, you’ve just got to say “what the fuck?”)

Helmut looks at me and smiles. “I don’t care if she has a boyfriend.” Leaning over to me in a hushed tone, as if it were a secret, he whispers, “You know I’m married. Maybe I could help her out.”

I would also like to thank Tim Greaves of Hampshire, England for designing the logo for this issue of the Jewel Shepard Fan Club Newsletter. He was quite observant in noticing the different logos that appear from newsletter to newsletter. The reason is a simple one, actually...I keep forgetting to save the logo. So when it comes time to do another newsletter I have to go through the process of picking typefaces, scrolling down the endless list in my Quark Express program. So, Tim, thanks. You saved me from at least fifteen minutes of decision-making.

Every now and then, I’m sent a picture of me and a fan that I have had the pleasure of actually meeting in person at a convention. I would like to share those with you here now, and thank those of you sending me the pictures. Thanks.