Thanks for spotting the downward spiral, Mom.

4 Dec

Winter is the time in the Brothel industry where hell freezes over and no one much likes going there.
I am intending to audition for a place that’s somewhat undercover in the next week or so.
Auditions are only on Mondays.
Those of you who know brothel life know that you don’t quite have to “audition” for a regular brothel,
so this place I speak of is obviously not a regular brothel.

I am however…needing to go there, as I’m quite broke.
The broke-ness makes me tired…
The tired-ness makes me sad…
Given the choice between my readers thinking I’m sane or crazy,
it would be absolutely hopeless to convince you that any legal whore is a sane girl,
so I’m going to err on the side of you all thinking I have problems.
The American readers seem to enjoy thinking that I have problems.
So I will give them to you!
Last week was this horrible twitter scandal between me and two bitches who TOTALLY hate my guts.
It ruined my thanksgiving. I’d show you all 20 of those tweets those bitches made, but then you would know of a real girl who’s real name could possibly be pegged to my real identity. So needless to say,  I’m not showing you the tweets from those cyber-bully-bitches.

Before that, I was super stressed about making this video with somebody I didn’t know.
Creatively we have had our differences.
My stress levels were apparently so high that the acids in my stomach burned a hole in it.
But this wasn’t just any kind of ulcer.
This was a vomiting ulcer.
So I spent a good chunk of November vomiting from stress. Granted, I thought it was the best thing to happen to me. Like, “Sweet I get bulimia on top of all this? FUCK YEA EATING DISORDER. I’m gonna be skinny through the holidays.”

It hasn’t lasted as well as I’ve thought. Well. I did barf yesterday. Stress.

I fought off some illness a week or two ago,
and this week we’ve experienced some drastic changes in weather in my city of residence…
and I’ll admit, I’m bummed about being broke,
so between the stress of scandal, finishing a book, and being broke…and fearing everybody and their mom will find out “who I really am.”
I do what any girl would do who doesn’t “know” what to do:
I’ve been sleeping more.

The bad moods have improved slightly.
I no longer think of offing myself every day. I liken such thoughts to a “glitch” that happens when my moods dip below a certain level. I would never actually off myself. I just call it “The Glitch.”

To improve my mood, I watch more TV.

However I have a knack for watching sentimental TV
(the networks are full of it around the holidays!)
and inevitably the sentimental television specials have a knack for making me cry.

Mostly though I was keen on sleeping a lot last week.
My mom of course decided to ask me about my mood.
I told her, “uhh yeah I’ve been thinking about getting on meds of some kind, yet I debate whether they would do any good.
I think I’m just going to get my hands on some THC lollipops.”

Mom’s response:
“What’s THC?”

My response:
“Pot mom. Marijuana. In lollipop form.”

My mom of course brought up the issue of whether putting out this book is a good thing for me,
because outing myself and having everybody know what I do is obviously not very good for my self esteem.

I told her, “Mom, nobody has even noticed that I haven’t been in a brothel in the last two months. They seem to like reading my bullshit and haven’t noticed that I don’t write about fucking people. They all love my bullshit.”

I did tell her that I’ve realized I hang around a bunch of people who haven’t done much to lift my spirits.
How I feel like I while my friends may be  “loyal”, (all three of you)
they are [at times] more sad about life than I am, and when they are bummed, it makes me sadder too.
So I’m broke, in a downward spiral of bad decisions, and there is no clear end in sight.

Thanks for noticing, Mom.

Regardless of whatever is true, no one seems to care.
You all just like my bullshit, so I’m gonna keep giving it to you.

You should all know that before I was staying home to get the marketing side of this blog-turned-book finished, I was working more. I was self sustaining with my ho-ing ways.  When I was supporting myself financially, I was not bummed. I was fine. It was only when I quit ho-ing to pursue some artistic endeavors that shit got ugly. Because you can take a girl out of a brothel, but you can’t take the ho out of a girl.

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