sweatshop

Oh GOD I've been sewing christmas presents since 645 am and it's taking so long because unlike this lucky, smiling woman I don'[t have a sewing machine.  My family better fuckin appreciate it!  Just kidding, it's made with love.

Love fest

Oh god oh god oh god I've just seen a trailer for Fast and the Furious 5.  It stars Vin Diesel AND Dwayne no neck Johnson and it looks AMAZING.  Auralie are you listening??  Vin Diesel is back on our screens.  And in our hearts.

Dog

This is Weimar Republic.  She's half poodle, half border collie, all dog.  She is the centre of the world. I love her.  Today I am gutted, though.  Absolutely gutted.  This day, this week, this Christmas, it's all awful.  I want to go to sleep until the New Year.

Twilight Zone Tuesday

This is Vladimir Putin, or Stalin 2.0, singing Blueberry Hill at a charity benefit in St Petersburg.  Possibly the weirdest thing in the entire world.  He's really going for this harmless old uncle look.  Good luck! 

Part 12

This is a client I don't even remember.  I must've written this quite a while ago.  I don't remember him at all but I do remember that this exactly how I felt that day.

Kevin:

I saw Kevin at 12 noon.  I wasn't ready, unbrushed teeth uncut flowers unclean dishes.  The worst of me is what I had on display today, no makeup eyes swimming in bland grey beige, lashes pale and lost and eyes dopey.  There was no way to awaken this morning, not possible, drowsy and drugged by a sleepless night, I squirmed my way out of bed with heavy eyes and weak limbs.  Nothing worked inside me and nothing would work for the rest of the day.  Kevin arrives only 34 fat weak muscles piggy eyes double chin and takes forever to orgasm.  I dreaded his visit and carelessly sweat my way through the suffering morning.  My upper lip broke out in dew and my lower back became slippery and salty.  Kevin doesn't speak very much ever and I have nothing to say to him any more.  We prepare to fuck and I unenthusiastically reach for his dick.  I want none of it.  He sits in a chair and I dance, my ass in his face his groin his hands, I take off my bra my panties until there's no mystery and no way to avoid him any longer.  Kevin is too unfit to fuck, and I am too hot.  Somehow we do it, me desperately trying to think of my boyfriend.  What is this life as I look at the five one hundred dollar bills, it's enough to keep me happy keep me in business.  My body is business, my face the moneymaker, my smile the clincher.  Too sore to open my legs for any man but willing to do it for the right sum of cash.  Always, the right sum of cash.  Sometimes it's not worth it when they don't clean, don't shower, smell like rot and feel like grease.  I grit my teeth steel my jaw and let dirty ten year old dreadlocks swing over my body.  That one liked to press his penis between my buttocks, like some sexcrazed pedophile defiling a girl, unable to even separate himself from the feeling to put his dick where it belongs.  That one I never saw again.

Blue dog

When I showed up to walk Weimar Republic today, she was blue.  Not blue as in sad but blue as in blue.  She'd eaten a pen!  She'd been to the vet already and acted fine except for the fact that she was BLUE!  So funny, so fun.  If you choose to be blue on this blue Monday, make sure it's the blue kind of blue and not the sad kind of blue.  Happy Funday everybody!  xoxo

Part 11

Johnathan: Not a client, but a co-owner of Jailey's in Edmonton.  He registered with the city as a male escort but women don't pay for sex.  He was schizophrenic but only lightly.  He has mood swings and paranoid delusions and the idea that if he didn't cut his hair, he'd look better.  Jonathan was good-looking, tall and dark and glowering.  He did a porn photo shoot with one of the girls, Sky, but Vice Div. told him to take it down.  He ranted about that for weeks.  Eventually he came up with a plan of protest: he would buy a nun's outfit and make all the girls wear it for their next photo shoot.  I said, that's not going to affect the By-law council, that's going to affect our business.  He had revenge on his mind.

Johnathan drove me home once on his motorcycle in the middle of winter.  Why I didn't take a cab is beyond me.  I suppose there was something about him.  It was thrilling to be on a motorcycle, I'd never done it before.  However, Edmonton is a formidable enemy in the winter months.  He dropped me off at the Mac's near my building and I stumbled home, enthralled and deeply frozen. 

The other owner, Jesse, was a tall and large Dane.  Both Jesse and Jonathan came to rely on me as the only girl to show up for each of her shifts, and on time.  Jailey's floundered as a studio.  I didn't believe I had the goods to go to a better studio so I stayed there for 6 months, making decent money every Saturday.  My services could be described as decent, even good, but Edmonton is so competitive that I remained mostly anonymous.  It wasn't until Revive that I started working it.  I quit Jailey's spur of the moment when Jonathan had a temper tantrum.  He'd been arrested a few times for beating the shit out of guys in bars.  He scared me that day.  As I watched him whirl around the staff room, a full-grown toddler with bulging eyes and pounding fists, I knew it was time to run again.

Part 10

Laura and Louisa: Two Czech women, both in their 40s, neither of them small.  Laura lumbered around Rendezvous massage in sandal heels and a lace body suit.  Louisa spent an hour pinning a long ponytail onto her head each morning.  They knew each other from somewhere presumably.  I don't know the likelihood of two Eastern European hookers finding each other at the same crappy studio but in Vancouver who really knows.  I liked Laura, she was huge and gentle, sometimes smiling at me for no reason.  Louisa made herself perpetually un-likable by roaming the studio clothed only in a bad attitude.  Laura sat on the couch, shift after shift, never getting a client.  Louisa had some regulars.

I had been arbitrarily diagnosed with ADD a few years before that for the sole reason that I couldn't concentrate at school.  While it seemed like a possible diagnosis, the trouble was really that I had regular trouble at home.  The doctor swiftly handed me a prescription to ritalin and it helped me focus.  Ritalin is so strong a goldfish could make the honour roll on it.  By university I was using it often and like any good prescription drug it made me kind of high.  I lost all appetite and lost weight.  I kept telling Laura and Louisa, because they kept asking me, that it was ritalin.  They talked alot in Czech, looking over at me and randomly blurting out that they liked my outfit or my hair.  I later found out from Chinese Amy, who inexplicably spoke Polish, that the two girls spent their shifts bad mouthing everyone in Czech.  While they may have been complimenting me in English, they were really discussing my addiction to coke or crack or meth or heroin in Czech.  Even after that I felt bad when they accused me of stealing their clients.  I know how it feels to have younger girls waltz into your work place.  But I also know at this point in my life that young girls don't know that much.  The only advantage I had was being 19 while Laura and Louisa had years of expertise behind them. 

I tried ecstasy once, that was the riskiest drug I've ever taken.  I have too many trust issues to go beyond that.  Now when I want a good high I pick up a hideously coloured Superstore cake with balloons on it.

Workin it

Damn, I don't miss workin it but I do miss working at a job, any job.  I'm bored out of my fucking mind.  I can't wait for my TAship to start in January and I can't wait to get a third job on top of that and feel useful and purposeful again as I await an answer from Concordia.  I'd do anything just to get out of my fucking head for one day!  That's it.  I'm joining the army.  Or the church.  Where you're not encouraged to think.

Part 9

Roxanna:  I first met Roxanna at Eurossage.  A demented Russian in a blonde wig, Roxanna had all the warmth of an NKVD agent.  She bullied clients into staying with her, even personally escorting a young man to the nearest ATM so he could stay with her.  She was on the thin side, which I soon found to be achieved by purging.  Roxanna hated me on sight.  I loved her immediately. 

She immigrated to Canada with some professional skills but was unable to apply them in English.  How she ended up an escort, I'll never know, but she, like me, had a dangerous pragmatism about her.  Her son lived in Vancouver.  I saw a photo of him once.  He was wearing an oversized grey track suit and a big silver chain, part moon suit, part hip hop.  Roxanna fought very hard to pay his college fees.  She succeeded as an escort because she had the singular goal of elevating her son.  She also succeeded because she hated men totally, and went about life without conscience.  She would not let a single client walk out the door.  Roxanna grew to like me and I relished our shifts together. 

Her bad manners got up to her eventually.  Her perb reviews warned others to stay away at all cost.  From what I gathered, she gained quite a bit of weight over the years.  In itself, gaining weight is not bad but I worried about Roxanna and her eating problems.  I guessed she was probably in a state of despair.  That particular review board is shockingly misogynistic.  If people knew Roxanna like I knew Roxanna, that she came to Canada to save her son and she came to escorting because the Canadian government lied and told her she could work in her chosen profession, they might think differently.  

I lost track of her after Eurossage closed. 

Fruit news

Oranges.  So orange and delicious.  One thing I have noticed though is that oranges don't travel all that well.  When the label says 'from South Africa,' probably best to avoid.  First of all, oranges aren't allowed in the airplane cabin, they have to travel together in crates in the trunk.  Then, they're not provided with the complimentary beverages that all of us 'enjoy' in economy class.  Nor are they even offered the 'snack' that contains no more than three pretzels.  Plus, in the event of an emergency landing, the instructions are to abandon the plane AND all fruit.  With that kind of treatment no wonder the oranges taste bad.  They taste of low self-esteem.

Ideal world

This is what Emma and I looked like yesterday.  Mermaids!  Truth be told, I now reek of chlorine.   Yesterday we had the perfect girls day: pillow fights, nail painting, shopping, visiting the sex store for trashy porn.  Emma is now gone but should be back in January for all you lust-filled Emma-lovers.  Next up, Emily!  Have a great Friday, bongos!  xoxo Amelia

tiger tiger

Good morning, Skull seekers!  Today Emma and I are swimming with the fishes.  I'd like to say it will be an elegant display but it probably won't be as both Emma and I lack the ability to swim gracefully.  She scoots around on a board while I slosh about like a dying tuna.  Should be excellent!  I'd just like to remind everyone that Christmas is coming very soon and you should all start panicking like me.  Have a great day!  xoxo Amelia

Trouble's brewing

My oh my, there are strange things done in the midnight sun by the girls who moil for gold. 

Here is my assessment of the current Halifax escort situation.  You could find better companionship the next time you unclog your shower drain.  Stick to the visiting girls, boys, and watch your wallets.

Declaration of love

Good morning sillies!  Yesterday I had a bad boob day.  Today I think, why not love your boobs to the fullest extent possible?  They've never let me down.  How absolutely silly to be unhappy with your own body.  If you don't love it who else will?  Sorry boobs.

news junkie

AAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaah My subscription to the Economist finally came yesterday and I read it and now I can't wait for next week!

No part

Two weeks until I go to Edmonton.  Talking on the phone with my mom this evening, I had no idea how to say, I dread that city.  It holds nightmares.  I can see that city in my mind, still by still, in freeze frames of terror.

I'm not posting an escort chapter today, I'd like to have one day without it.  So far I have raised $330 of the 500 I hope to raise.  I am pleased and hope others are pleased or interested in what they read here. 

bongo nightmare

Bongo players have moved into my building.  Bongo players are by far the most irritating people on the planet.  They seem to be both deaf and drunk.  They must be neutralized.  I'm having flashbacks of dorm life. 

Part 8

Middle Eastern guy at Jaileys: Wanted to kneel before me while I hit him and picked my nose for him to eat.  Never had I hit anyone before.  I stood in front of him raising my arm and hastily hugging it to my body, horrified at even starting the action.  Finally I hit him and immediately sucked in my breath and squeezed my wrist to my body.  I felt sick hitting a person.  I sort of got the hang of it after a while but it felt deeply jarring.  He seemed quite pleased. 

weather report

Rain + dog walking+ mascara= undead

Part 7

Angelo:  An Italian man well into his 80s, Angelo presented himself as Andrew.  Of course, someone his age is unfamiliar with call display.  I called him Angelo once by accident and he asked me in astonishment how I knew his real name.  I said, magic.  I enjoyed Angelo immensely as a person.  He clearly retained his adolescent sex drive.  Men that age are rarely able to attain an erection but Angelo never had any trouble.  He was a client of mine at Revive in 2006 or 2007.  I distinctly remember meeting him in the summer time, when Edmonton is radioactive with heat and sun.  The studio was too new to have air conditioning and the girls and I roasted in the staff room.  Working is never so tough as it is in the heat.  You sweat and slide and fall off tables.  But it's worse for the men, who are biologically blessed with endless sweat glands.

Angelo hailed from Naples and told me he'd take me there one day.  I said, what about your wife?  He said, she won't mind. 

I took a few days off work due to illness and when I returned, Angelo appeared first thing in the morning.  He said, where have you been, amore?  I said, in your dreams.  We laughed.  I hadn't quite recovered from a terrible, wasting bladder infection.  I said, I'm sick today still and he said, you better work it off.  While he showered I sat in the staff room guzzling ice cold Diet Coke.  The massage room was so hot and so humid that the sweat poured off him like a waterfall.  I wilted and actually blacked out for a few seconds in doggy style.  Old men take a long time to orgasm.  An hour later I stumbled out of the room and fell in a puddle in the staff room.  Charmaine, one of the owners, walked by me on the way to her session, clad in a fishnet suit.  She could not have looked more ridiculous.  I had to get another girl to escort Angelo out of the studio because I couldn't stop laughing.  That was the great thing about escorting- the other girls.  I would love to be able to make those friendships on the outside. 

budgie

Last night I dreamed I owned six budgies.  Curious about it, I looked up what it meant.  Apparently I am the following things:

Parakeets

To see a parakeet in your dream, indicates that you lack initiative and new idea. You need to be more unconventional and spontaneous. The dream also relates to dependency and immaturity. 

Okay then. 

Bunny play date

Amidst the devastation that is my building, there is hope.  My bunnies had a play date with the other bunnies on the floor.  There is a new bunny called Alice and of course the bunny who used to live with me, the big gray one.  The Big Gray one sliced up Solomon's nose when I was away in NB with Emma some months ago.  It was all my fault because I knew they weren't getting along.  When Big Gray moved out I was sad about the whole thing and very sorry.

But yesterday they seemed to get along okay.  Stella refused to come out of the apartment but Solo and Big Gray and Alice had a nice time in the hallway. Then all these other people came out and it was like a floor party.  Alice peed everywhere and we laughed because all the carpets are getting ripped up anyways, thank god.  It was the closest I ever got to achieving a bunny dynasty, which was Auralie's original idea back in university.  We'll get there one day. 

Dr Sister

Some of you may know that my sister is a doctor.  My sister is a DOCTOR.  So freaky.  But also, very useful.  Now instead of trolling the internet in search of maladies for my symptoms, I can just text her!  At least, that's what I thought.  Here is our exchange from yesterday:

Me: My nipples are sore, what's wrong with them? Is it gangrene? Is it schizophrenia? Are they alcoholics?
Her: It's nippleitis!
Me: WHAT?
Her: My nipples are sore in support of your nipples
Me: Oh I see.  You're mocking me.
Her: Nippleitis nippleitis!
Me: Ima kill you at Christmas
Her: Merry Christmas!
Me: I'll be lucky if I still have nipples by Christmas
Her: Maybe you finally hit puberty!


So there you have it.  After much texting she finally said it's probably nothing.  Thanks, Dr. Sister! Great fun.

condoria

Guess WHAT? I put Concordia into google but must've spelled it wrong and came up with condor so here's a condor but I FINISHED and sent off my Concordia application! So happy.  Sleep well, postal nymphs!

xoxo Amelia

Part 6

Craig came in here like those irritating fast food managers.  All chipper and pushy and annoying.  He then came in his underwear while rubbing himself on the bed.  I thought about him going home, his underwear creamy with semen, rubbing coldly and clammily against his withering penis and I felt sick.  He squeezed my nipples like he was popping a zit.  It was awful. Later I called a friend and we laughed and laughed.  I'd been holding that laugh since he came in his underwear, about 8 minutes into the session.  Actually, it's still funny.  That's escorting for you, so horrid sometimes you can't help but laugh.

debit me my sanity

oh my GOD! What is it with people and debit cards?  Debit is not a complete alternative to cash!  So frustrating in the supermarket these days when people whip out a debit card to pay for a mars bar.  These are always the people who don't know how to swipe it or forgot their glasses in the car or have difficulty pushing buttons.  Also, there should be a line where anyone over the age of 65 is FORCED to go.  We need age segregation and we need it NOW!  Separate but equal.  Equal but separated by the forces of age and the need to chat with the cashier.  Man alive.

useless appendage

Do nipples matter?  Who cares about them?  Am I right, people, am I right?  xoxoxo Nipple hatah

health update

Good morning fava beans!  It's a nice day today but my nipples hurt and my head hurts and my soul hurts.  Just kidding! Only my nipples hurt.  Does anyone have any advice? My soul is happy.  Some days you just want your nipples to match your soul.  Know what I'm saying? Have a great day!  xoxox Amelia

Part 5

Coat hook:  Named so because of his coat hook penis.  It curved up at the head.  He had red skin and sandy blonde hair and the sensible pants of a man past his prime.  He talked me into a discount.  Because I was starting out in Halifax, I said fine.  He's the only client in Halifax to ever get a discount from me.  My price at the time was only 200.  He worked at Sears or something, in the microwave department.  The first thing he noticed about me was my likeness to his similarly aged daughter.  In between unpleasant thrusts, and assurances that most women loved being screwed by a coat hook, he talked about her.  She was in university in Ontario, taking something at something university.  I didn't listen, I knew I would refuse to ever see him again.  Later, when I was re-counting the 170 he'd given me, he looked perturbed.  Even later, he wrote me an email saying how he didn't like that I counted the money in front of him.  Nor the fact that I mentioned my rates were now solid, and rising in the next few months.  He said, you're raising your rates... what does that mean for me?  I said, it means you have to sell more microwaves.  Vile creature.  He still patrols the review boards asking for discounts.  Of course, he poses as an upstanding member on the boards but I, I know better.  Pun intended.

From Russia, with judgement

Here are your Russian proverbs for today!

• You cannot file a complaint about your own stupidity.

That's all!  Happy sleeping xoxo Amelia

target audience.

You know, I'm great with kids.  I'm great with animals.  I'm great with ideas, particularly ones about the apocalypse.  But for the life of me, I cannot understand adults.  They allude me.  I am adult-stupid.  I am very grateful that the people who love me are capable of forgiveness, tremendous forgiveness, because I am capable mostly of fucking up.  Sigh.

Amelia's movie reviews

Faster.  Starring Dwayne No Neck Rock and billy bob thorton.

The plot: no identifiable plot
The characters: scrawny guy and hulk-like guy
The premise: guns and blood are good
The overall result: terrible

My personal opinion: Blood and death are good and though this movie stars the Rock he is only awarded about 20 lines.  He conveys emotion primarily through his face and jaw.  Lots of eyebrow emoting.  A man of few words.  A movie of little charm.  Great! 
xoxo Amelia

Self-help: nipples

Do your nipples hurt for no reason?  I have no advice for you.  xoxoxo Nipple

Part 4

Another Colin: My god, he was a werewolf.  He had thick white hair growing everywhere on his potbellied, hanging body.  He had long hair in a ponytail and grey, hooves for feet.  His teeth were the worst corpse teeth I'd ever seen.  His breath could stop a semi in its tracks.  He presented himself in a way that I hated most: he talked on and on about his numerous girlfriends and how they all wanted to get back together with him.  This is something I abhor.  Imagine being so insecure that you have to champion yourself (dishonestly) to a hooker in a bachelor apartment on the wrong side of town.  There is never any way that clients have girls lined up at the door but particularly so with Colin.  I felt like I was having sex with a yeti.  He had an unbelievable amount of body hair, even on his back and his fingers.  The sex was like his feet: dry, decaying, gray. He overstayed his welcome, of course.  I remember saying, our time is definitely up.  He redressed, although he need not, he was already in a full suit of fur, and finally left.  

Revenge!

Weimar Republic, the dog I walk, has moved beyond the diarrhea stage.  Now she is in the swamp stage.  She finds a swamp, sits in it, becomes sodden with mud, and lunges at me.  What she doesn't know is that such behaviour is rewarded with bath time.  And Weimar Republic HATES bath time.  Revenge is mine! 

Emmabodacious

Emmalicious is coming.  Alert the media.  She'll be sexing up this one horse town from Dec 4 to 9th.  If you need her, she'll be swimming with me!  xoxo

Dinner!

Yes, it looks like a penis but it's beef tongue.  This is what I ate for dinner tonight with the seniors.  She wisely refused it.  He gulped it down with dijon.  I had a very hard time getting over the nubby bits on the tongue, at which point she told me I had to skin it.  So I did that, it cooked, and I ate it.  Tasted fine but the whole idea is leading me to nausea.  Sorry cows! 

Alert!

No, not uranium.  I think the Stephen Lewis foundation is on to me! They called and left a message.  They said they were "curious" since my dare page is so "covert" and they'll "call me back" in the hope of "speaking with me."  I, of course, will "be away from the phone."  They'll find me eventually and when they do, I'll go down in a fire of bullets and some shame, like Bonnie and Clyde, who do NOT, in my opinion, deserve any of the respect afforded to them now.  I'm headed underground.  xoxoxo Foxtrot

Part 3

Rendezvous Massage was in Richmond.  Richmond is a mostly immigrant community.  Vancouver as a whole is more segregated than perhaps any other city in Canada.  It boasts of multiculturalism but reeks of racism.  It's not simply that the whites who populate Vancouver itself don't want to live with immigrants, it's that no one community has it in mind to tolerate other communities.  Richmond is mostly east Asian.  Many of the clients at Rendezvous were Chinese.  However, the vast majority of clients were south Asian, either Indian, Pakistani, or Bangladeshi.  Few spoke English well and even fewer adopted the theory that women are not inferior.  Even for the escort industry, the disdain with which they treated women was extreme and vicious. 

The second client: Amy made calls to clients when I was hired.  She sold me as a very white girl with big breasts.  The appeal of large breasts, I could understand.  The appeal of whiteness, I could not.  South Asian men love the Barbie type.  The blonder, the whiter, the more anatomically exaggerated, the better.  This client threw money at me to get me onto the table. 

I remember him well.  East Indian of some variety with a turban, which of course he took off.  These men take breaks from religion when it is convenient for them.  The turbans stink nearly as much as their bodies.  I don't know what the motivation is for not washing, but those men stank like they'd never washed.  I have never seen an East Indian client without gagging.  The stench of BO is overwhelming.  The stench of their unwashed ass is overwhelming.  The stench when you peel back the foreskin is.... I don't know.  It has the power to make me queasy, make me recoil with dread, at the thought.  I think the problem is that those odours preceded violence.  When I smell BO now, or when I smell unwashed skin, I get anxious and cagy. 

He fucked me with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.  With East Indian men there is no asking.  They do not indicate what position they'd like you to take, they do not request.  They move you and they fucking mean it.  You could be on your back, crushed by odour and oily flesh, and then they yank you, twist you around, and jerk your limbs over.  There is no concept of respect, there is no awareness of the human body.  You are a dog on a table and if they are not sinking their fingers into your vagina with the intensity of a heated curling iron, you are lucky.

I bled on the condom and shouted, enough.  In a trance of orgasm, he ignored me, spreading my legs to go deeper.  I bled more.  By the time he came I was blank. 

Blankness was a state I could easily achieve at that point in my life.  It started who knows when, probably after becoming cognitively aware of the power of my drunk, angry father.  In a way, it helped me continue to escort.  In a way, I thought that if life wasn't hard, if you weren't fighting, you weren't gaining anything.  My fights had always been about survival, now they were about money.  That second client was bad and that was somehow fine with me.  When you grow up fighting, you think, it doesn't matter what else is done to me now, I'll be fine, I can do anything, nothing can really hurt me more than what has already happened.  Plus, the survival instinct, if fostered from a very young age, is powerful.  Escorting was the most pragmatic choice, financially, for a girl at university full time, in a city that costs too much for what you get.  I hated Vancouver, hated everything about it.  I lived with Auralie at that point.  I remember when I turned to her one day in her car and I said, I hate this city.  She said, me too.  I still hate that city.  My mother is now threatening to retire to Vancouver Island.  I'm finding it difficult to explain to her exactly why I don't want her to do that.

Helpful, I don't know

I'm not sure if this recounting is as soothing as I'd hoped.  The process is not a happy one.  I'm aware that the next post may offend people.  I really don't care.  When clients of certain ethnicities are persistently bad, rude, violent, and aggressively cheap, you learn to avoid them.  To avoid them is just common sense.  I don't know of any girls that will willingly or knowingly see East Indian clients.  Why?  They don't want to get hurt.

Part 2

I never found out this man's name but always called him Luigi.  He was the spitting image of Super Mario's sidekick- short, bushy moustache, bouncing brown hair, and he moved really oddly, as if battery operated.  Luigi removed his clothing before he even got to meet me.  I walked into the room to introduce myself and there he was, naked and blank-faced.  In a crap studio in Edmonton I charged 240 an hour for full service.  Full service is not gfe, there's no kissing or oral.  Luigi mounted me without foreplay.  He vigorously employed himself for ten long minutes while I tried to hold onto the bed.  As quickly as it began, it stopped.  No noise, no jerking, just done.  He came back a few weeks later and tried to pay me only 200.  I said no.  Because he was already naked he huffily redressed before zooming out of the studio.  Never saw him again but thank god.

War on terror

Good morning, fallen angels!  I heard Christmas jazz in the health food store this morning.  Why, Christmas jazz, why?  Just a reminder that December is right around the corner so enjoy your grocery store's canned easy rock while you can.  What would you rather?  A tinny soundtrack of Leanne Rhimes music or Jingle Bells up to 80 times a day?  Terrorism, all of it.

twitter

One thing I've learned through Twitter:

People are really fucking boring.

Have faith, secret friends!  Life in the shadows may be rough but at least it's interesting.  You know who the most boring people are in the world? Celebrities.  Hate hate hate twitter.