My shit. In boxes. Glorious. Two Dickwads Move You.

12 Nov

Today, I called the ranch about going back to work. On the 15th, was my plan.
Apparently since I went in there to film my fucking video, they assumed that I would be leaving, never to return.
So they boxed up ALL MY SHIT IN MY ROOM. Curtain Rod. Cans of paint. Furniture. Everything.
All because they want to “move me to B Hall, because they are shutting down A Hall for Winter.”
[Note – my home brothel is comprised of four halls. Halls A-D. I was in A Hall. B Hall is one hall over.]
Since when does going in there with a camera mean that I am quitting my job?

I said I was coming by to pick up a couple things.
Did it look like I moved out? No.

But he maintenance people are bored with their jobs.
Any chance to box up shit in favor of avoiding tasks that are more grueling? They will gladly do it.
The maintenance people at the ranch rather seem to revel in boxing up peoples shit.
Almost like they secretly enjoy going thorugh people shit. Snooping. Seeing what interesting bullshit they find.

That’s why they do it.
Oherwise, somebody would have TOLD ME, because I was IN THERE THE DAY BEFORE.

Morally they know its wrong.
Logically they had no reason to take shit out of that room,
as they are shutting down that hall anyway.
Nobody would have been in it.
And if I was “leaving” then I could have boxed all my shit up myself.
But they didn’t wait,
because they love snooping on us whores.

I talked with the manager at the ho house about the fact that my shit should not be boxed up just because I made an appearance.
And I called the other brothel closer to Vegas, wondering if I could work there, because if I have to unpack my entire fucking bedroom and put it all back together, I’m not going to go to Carson, I’m going to go closer to Vegas.

Or maybe…I will take my co-pilot’s advice, and head to this under cover brothel up north.
They have “auditions” on mondays…and something tells me that I would be able to make more money in this under cover spot than I would at my home bases.

It has to be said however…The last day or so I have been thinking, “I want to go home.”
But….I’m already home.
I.e. at my home.
In my hometown.

Home doesn’t feel like home any more.
I miss my ho name.
I have to call myself by it to soothe my soul.
Its sad.

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