i'm in such a shitty mood today. apologies to whomever my wrath may fall upon on this wretched morning.
i'm making cinnamon rolls! maybe that will make things ok.
I would like to publicly announce that i was never molested by my father or any role model in my life, male or female. i do not have emotional issues other than the occasional monthly crying jag or whatever you want to call it. I don't accept 'bribes' for sexual favors. So don't ask. last night a man sitting at my rack leaned in and said "$150 says you're coming with me tonight" and put ten bucks down as sort of a down payment.... ha, call me silly but i took the ten bucks and got him bounced for soliciting.
i'm having a hard time formulating this thought. it is so large in my head and all-consuming at times that there is no appropriate and tactful way to express it in it's entirety. the gist, well. i wasn't the sort of girl that you see on jenny jones, 'my 13 year olds wear no clothes, they ain't nuthin but hos'. i just figured out that the way to make the most money working as little as possible on my night owl schedule would be dancing. after the initial shock it's not unlike any other job. i personally compare it to cab driving most often, only dancing is safer. it has almost ridden me of that tiresome shyness, and performance anxiety (so i can be a rock star and not pass out), and i feel like a free agent and not some whore slaving for a paycheck. it was nice when i realized one day that i had made the equivalent of the 80 hr, two week paycheck in just one six hour shift.
people are unrealistic in thier expectations of dancers, either that they are all on crack, all abused and molested as children, all prostitutes, emotionally unstable bitches, etc.... that's quite a list of requirements just to be able to take your clothes off and spin around a pole.
it seems that most of the grief in this occupation seems to come with convincing people that it's not as bad as they think, and trying to shuck off the negativity they produce.
blimey, i think i've gone way past 'appropriate and tactful' here. so my point is, fuck anyone that dares to label me a thieving gold-digging crackhead whore with no sense. i will unleash a wrath that has never been seen before on the next person to try.
cinnamon rolls are definitly not the answer.
i'm making cinnamon rolls! maybe that will make things ok.
I would like to publicly announce that i was never molested by my father or any role model in my life, male or female. i do not have emotional issues other than the occasional monthly crying jag or whatever you want to call it. I don't accept 'bribes' for sexual favors. So don't ask. last night a man sitting at my rack leaned in and said "$150 says you're coming with me tonight" and put ten bucks down as sort of a down payment.... ha, call me silly but i took the ten bucks and got him bounced for soliciting.
i'm having a hard time formulating this thought. it is so large in my head and all-consuming at times that there is no appropriate and tactful way to express it in it's entirety. the gist, well. i wasn't the sort of girl that you see on jenny jones, 'my 13 year olds wear no clothes, they ain't nuthin but hos'. i just figured out that the way to make the most money working as little as possible on my night owl schedule would be dancing. after the initial shock it's not unlike any other job. i personally compare it to cab driving most often, only dancing is safer. it has almost ridden me of that tiresome shyness, and performance anxiety (so i can be a rock star and not pass out), and i feel like a free agent and not some whore slaving for a paycheck. it was nice when i realized one day that i had made the equivalent of the 80 hr, two week paycheck in just one six hour shift.
people are unrealistic in thier expectations of dancers, either that they are all on crack, all abused and molested as children, all prostitutes, emotionally unstable bitches, etc.... that's quite a list of requirements just to be able to take your clothes off and spin around a pole.
it seems that most of the grief in this occupation seems to come with convincing people that it's not as bad as they think, and trying to shuck off the negativity they produce.
blimey, i think i've gone way past 'appropriate and tactful' here. so my point is, fuck anyone that dares to label me a thieving gold-digging crackhead whore with no sense. i will unleash a wrath that has never been seen before on the next person to try.
cinnamon rolls are definitly not the answer.