I think about becoming a prostitute often. Probably more often than most. It seems like such a small step away from what I'm already doing. What exactly am I selling now? A sexual experience? A unrequited hard-on? A waste of money... When I think about it logically, it makes sense. I could make in one hour what I make in a night, or more. And it's all about the money, right?

I just can't do it. Not yet. I'm not good enough at sex. Clients would complain, I wouldn't have regulars, I'd be the laughing stock of the whore neighborhood. We'll see how I feel in a few months.

On another note, work was not the money saturated wonderland I was hoping it to be on Thanksgiving. I mean, you'd think Thanksgiving would be great. Few girls, lots of lonely or annoyed-by-the-family men...money all over the place. Nope. There weren't many girls, maybe 20 by the end of the night. There weren't many customers either. Mostly couples, who while generous, aren't really great for VIPs. Needless to say, I did manage to break the $500 mark without VIPs so I wasn't too bummed.

I'm getting better about money. There was a point a few months ago where I'd cop an attitude if I made less than $500. Walked out with $400 in a bad mood. I guess I've mysteriously gained some perspective because I'm feeling a lot more thankful for the money I do make these days, even if it's only $400. Maybe it's the Thanksgiving spirit in me.

The Universe..and all the delusional people in it.

So I'm sitting here watching a History Channel special about the Universe; black holes, white holes, quantum mechanics and all the like. At one point in my life I used to be insanely interested in physics-quantum physics to be exact. I was ready to go to Georgia Tech and study quantum physics for four wonderful years and solve all of the questions currently posed by physics. Anyways, the show reminds me of a movie I onced watched titled "The Elegant Universe". I think it was a special on Discovery channel or something-but it was carried by Blockbuster. Now I was always more of a book person when it came to physics, so I wasn't up on the latest and greatest physics movies. The person who suggested "The Elegant Universe" first wanted to see another movie I'd never heard of, something along the lines of 'What the Fuck do we Know'. Luckily for me Blockbuster was out of our second choice, so Elegant Universe it was.

The film was pretty decent, really. I'm not going to pretend to be an expert or anything near one concerning quantum physics, because it's fucking complicated. But this movie seemed like a pretty unbiased look at quatum physics, specificially string theory and TOE.

Now at the time I figured the person with whom I watching the film was just curious about quantum physics, much like myself. Later I figured out that he was watching this movie to confirm his own (unfortunately shared by millions of others) delusional theories of reality and destiny and other mystical bullshit. I remember him uttering phrases such as 'I knew it', and 'that's what I've always thought!' whenever they talked about small strings emitting vibrations.

Turns out he was a complete quack. Ok, maybe that's a bit harsh-but this whole new age religion/mysticism thing embracing quantum physics as proof of their crackpot theories is killing me. Turns out that's what the 'what the fuck do we know' movie was about. Greedy whack-jobs bastardizing physics to convince the naive and gullible that they create their own realities and they emit magnetic waves or something that attracts things to them. I'm not even going to delve into why this is absurd because any person with half a brain would be able to do that for themselves.

I dunno, the whole thing is so ridiculous that I have a hard time even understanding what they're trying to get across. It's no different than good ol' religion. At least religion doesn't try to explain itself using phony science.

So I hate my friends. Maybe not hate, but I'm just fucking sick of them. Mostly my 'best friend'. The best friend who wants to spend every waking moment with her stupid (ok, he is smart) boyfriend. When she's not spending time with him she's texting or calling him; or even worse, talking about how great he is and how much she loves him. What makes her think I give a flying fuck, I have no idea. I just want to scream "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" She always needs men. Ever since that golden age of puberty she's needed them. The self-esteem boost that comes with them. Then when I bitch about her codepedence she tells me I'm jealous. I'm not. I just think she's pathetic when it comes to relationships and men.

The other one is just delusional. The 'chase your dreams and live happily ever after' delusional. And she thinks I'm an idiot. My dumbass fucking friends don't realize that I'm more intelligent than them. Combine them and I'd still probably win that shit. Just because I'm a stripper and I stopped going to college I'm an idiot in their eyes. Just because I don't like art and music and liberal hippy shit I'm fucking retarded. Sorry-I don't think so. Sorry I don't have my whole future planned out.

Why can't they just entertain me when I'm bored and shut the fuck up the rest of the time?

Tori

At the end of my second shift at the club I was summoned by a young black man for a dance. He wanted a dance with me and another barely legal stripper, Tori. He liked 'young perky tits'. Tori informed me that this was her first night. It being a slow night and me being an idiot I made a comment about the night being abnormally slow. I suppose I said it to comfort her. She looked so young and I didn't want her to be depressed over the lack of money I assumed she had made.

Turns out she had years on me concerning the sex industry. Over the next couple of weeks we talked. I think we were the youngest girls there, and that helped us instantly bond. We couldn't have been more different. She was a former prostitute, high school dropout trying to escape her abusive pimp and make her own money. I was a Georgia Tech student first time stripper.

She wasn't all that bright from what I could tell, but she had a past. She was so blase about the things she had done. One night she had asked me if I would 'fuck for money'-I told her that I would consider it, but it would depend on the money. She told me it was easy. "Usually the johns are really small so you just lay there and moan, (accompanied by sex noises) and you can't even feel it. They usually finish in like, five minutes." Here was this girl, younger than myself, talking about fucking strangers for money like most people would talk about the weather.

After work sometimes I'd drive her to various hotels. Hotels that would be accommodating the fake moans and small dicks. Usually we'd eat at Waffle House beforehand, and talk about silly shit. She was a funny kid.

Sometimes I'd feel bad for her, she was very pretty, gorgeous even. She was tall and thin and I used to wonder if she could have been a model. Not that the life of a model is any better , just more glamorous on the surface.

I quit without telling her, and I haven't seen or talked to her since. I still think about her a lot, and I wonder why Tori, a relatively small part of my life, made such an impact on me.

Drunk

I just want to be in a perpetual state of drunkeness. Here are some reasons why I should consume alcohol every day, all day.

-I'm much friendlier when inebriated.

-I have a habit of taking off my clothes when under the influence-and not for money!

-I stumble around a lot, which is hopefully amusing to anyone watching.

-I have an affinity for laying down on hard gravel-y surfaces. It never fails; I always end up chilling on the pavement after downing a few (dozen) shots. I'm not really sure why this is a good thing.

-I lose any concern for my own personal safety, especially in regards to sex. Not only am I more likely to fuck strangers*, I'm more likely to go to their possibly serial killer lairs to do it. This is great news if you're a serial murderer in the Atlanta area, or just haven't been laid in a while.

*In regards to the last reason, I won't just fuck any old dude-you have to have some strange occupation or hobby that is entirely amusing to me at the time of courtship (tactful, I know). Then I will surely sleep with you just so I can later relay the stories of my wacky sexscapades to friends (and strangers).

-Less of this blogging nonsense; I'll be too busy sleeping on the concrete and fucking married divorce lawyers to partake in any of this blogging stuff.

I remember back in the days when I was attending Ga Tech I was always plotting ways that I could get drunk before heading to class. Unfortunately due to the fact that I lived off campus and had to drive to class this was difficult. I even considered paying people to drive and pick me up from class in order to fulfill this desire.

Things never did pan out-maybe if they had I'd still be there.