Tag Archives: career

Fan mail A go-go: I refuse to die here.

31 Oct

Excerpts from fan mail:

I have no idea what you’re schedule is like. I’m assuming that since you are not in Nevada and your blog alludes to you being ‘retired’ that maybe you’ve got something else going on, perhaps you’re dancing these days (or nights)?

I am not dancing.
I got a wig to use for web camming. Haven’t done that either. Too bummed by the idea. I’ve been sustaining on very little cash. Making my car payment on time. Not being too sociable in my efforts to save money.

I’m getting so tired of girls who want to label things and act certain ways because they think their supposed to and who over-think it all entirely instead of just letting things unfold naturally and remembering to enjoy themselves along the way. Seems easy enough, right?

HAH! You think you don’t want labels. Trust me. Guys like and need labels maybe more than girls do. I finally gave an “I don’t know….” answer to a “Do you want a boyfriend?” question, and I’m beginning to feel it was the worst mistake I ever made. The poor fellow probably assumes that if I don’t want to be his girlfriend immediately like every other gal on the planet, I must not like him. In fact the opposite is true. I like the fellow very much, yet, I am more cautious than ever about being used, falling for the wrong reasons, or getting hurt.

I’ve known a handful of girls who couldn’t really keep it together emotionally doing what you do but it sounds like you’ve kept it together very well. I’ve had to be there for several friends who fell apart in your line of work. It’s flattering when a friend calls in tears requesting my help spiritually but I can’t say any of my friends ever handled it very well.

When the money is great, I handled it like a champ.
I’m a huge cryer naturally and tend to let myself cry when I need to give a good cry. When the money started drying up in the industry, the tears were unstoppable – not only for me but for some of the most hard working ladies I know. The lack of money seemed to terrorize them from the inside out, their personal relationships…everything.
Unlike a lot of people, I don’t call up people in tears. I handle it. I cry alone. I deal alone. I hate to cry over the phone. I have way too much pride to do that. The last thing any gal wants to do is appear mentally unstable. Yet – can you imagine being at work for two weeks straight in a place where you live having SPENT more money than you have MADE? When the money is so scarce – that’s when you start to feel pitiful and you know you can do better for yourself.

I know I can make more money with my writing than I can as a ho. It will take time, but it is a leap I am willing to make.

Remember that no matter what your career is you should never let it consume you. I know you know how to remove yourself from your element even when you’re in your element but always make time for further adventures.

HAHA! Once again – I think I want what any normal person wants: I want my career to consume 38 to 40 hours of my week. I would love to make time for further adventures…but here’s what they don’t tell you in the University:

A person starting up their own business or make headway as an independent in their career, is going to work harder than they have ever worked, and spend more hours than they have EVER SPENT, in their whole life, on trying to break through to the other side. This is when you are multiplying yourself and taking on the equivalent of the roles of 3 or 5 people. You think, “oh I can go be social” ….but then something else comes up. A few more phone calls to make. A few more emails to send.

I’ve seen tons of start up businesses sink amongst my friends. The #1 reason they sink is due to their unrealistic mindset about the necessity of spending up to 70 hours a week on things in the first 3-4 months. Having grown up around a business, I’m simply too realistic to let things fail.

Plus, lets go into the fact that I’m a happy busy bee:  I have a greater understanding of how people work than most people. I have figured out some deeper aspects of my life, while I see my friends who are in their 40s and are “still figuring it out.”

I’ve seen all the drunken cuties, one night stands, meaningless sex, and all the fake friendships I need to see….probably for the next eternity.

I already know when people are ruffling up their feathers for the sake of getting into bed with me.

I already know when people are too scared to show their heart.

I can already tell that the majority of the typical population is not ready to be good friends with The Babe. Since they are not ready and will never be ready, its breaking my heart.

I need to get out of here.
I need to get amongst a crowd of movers and shakers who are happy
that I’m awesome, rather than scared shitless. I need to be around men who want to team up with me and conquer the world together.

I need people who don’t need miles of healing in order for their adventure to begin.

I am fuccccked up by dealing with the above process my whole fucking life.

I am ready to be the snob my mother raised me to be.
Otherwise I’ll probably die here.
Unless some fucker wants to step up to the plate and fall in love with yours truly….whether metaphorically or literally speaking…


I got the Scarecrow’s brain yet I no longer have the courage to be the Tin Man around a bunch of Cowardly Lions. Its time for me to go.

Money vs. Freedom – weekly reflections

24 Aug

Every Tuesday, I’m going to be sharing something that happened during the day/week that is a trade-off of money vs. the typical freedoms one might get living outside of here.

Today’s freedom?
The drugs you choose to put in your body.
HCG - my favorite diet drug.

Keep in mind, this is not the brothel that is on that TV show. We are not allowed to do any drug we want here. Recently there was a change of management. Before, things like…smoking weed on the back patio were acceptable.

Now the smoking weed thing is no longer acceptable. Which is fine – I never much liked weed.
But now, the management is trying to tell me what diet drugs I can and cannot do, which in this industry, is WAY WORSE than taking away somebody’s weed.

    The drug in question:

(aka pregnyl, aka human chorionic gonadotropin.)

    How long I’ve been using the drug:

On and off for some time.

    Why the boss took it away:

NOT because it involves needles, but because he’s more familiar with its use in conjunction with steroids, a’la pro baseball player Manny Ramirez.
Keep in mind I have no idea of those kinds of uses. I’m only familiar with its much older use, which is a diet from the 1950s called “Simeons Protocol.”

    What transpired:

The boss told me I can’t shoot up on the premises any more. A heated conversation.

    Ending result:

I was furious and cried. NOT because I can’t do the drug. But because one of my precious freedoms had been taken away.

    How I coped:

My 18 year old buddy joined me while I was a teary mess and I explained how ridiculous losing this particular freedom is. After all….a year ago it was common knowledge with the last management how much money I spent on cosmetic surgery. So part of the reason for the drug is to maintain the results of said surgery.

    How I fought back:

Explained logically to the manager about said surgery, and how I’m paranoid about reversing the results of my very expensive, very painful surgery….and that my line of work both inside and outside of this house is all about how slim you are. He tells me, “you’re a beautiful girl, that’s your rule, not life.”

I also said, “if you’re gonna tell a girl something that’s going to make her cry, maybe try to do it when she isn’t on shift!”

“But I live here.” He says.
“Our shifts are only 12 hours. Find time outside of that.”
I also said, “If you’re gonna call me out, then you should probably start searching for drugs in every girls room, to be fair.”

    Surprise display of character from the boss:

He calls me to the back office, and wouldn’t ya know, its close to 1am but he has the owner of the place on the phone, who says, “I know you girls have your vices, and you need vices for your sanity. If the drug in question is LEGAL enough that I won’t get busted by you keeping it in the house, then you can keep it.”

Lesson learned: Nobody in America likes to be told they can’t do something. Especially a whore in a brothel.