You'd think a purse that looks like a gaping vagina would be full of money, don't you?
Hey, guys - guess who's officially a squatter? Me! I didn't pay my rent on Friday cause I don't have it. Guess who sucks (figuratively) at being an escort? I do!
I HATE MY JOB.
There's no personal fulfillment in trying to satisfy someone you don't care about. I don't care how many Happy Hooker stories you read. Belle de Jour and Diary of a London Call Girl can kiss my ass. I've become enlightened to the ways of privileged white female prostitutes, and they're playing in a whole other ball game than the rest of us. Apparently, white skin = better, even though I've left behind men with a smile on their face who'd beg to differ.
MEN LIKE ME. SOMETIMES EVEN TOO MUCH TO PAY FOR IT.
Unfortunately, I've no marketable skills. If I did, do you think I'd be doing what I do? I didn't choose my line of work - I fell into it out of necessity. And if you think I'm going to work three minimum wage jobs to pay the bills, then think again. I'd like to think there's more to life than slave labour, and I've more to offer the world than shiny toilets and a pleasant phone manner. I wasn't built to wipe some old guy's ass while he looks down my top and drools on my shoe. I'd rather hop on a bus with my last few bucks and ride to the middle of nowhere, curl up in a field and wait for the vermin to gnaw me to death.
I HAVEN'T SEEN A DENTIST IN TWO YEARS.
I'd like to take this opportunity to thank my Dad for telling my Mom, when I was in high school, that I didn't need a summer job cause my time would be better spent taking art classes and writing book reports. Those summers I spent struggling through "Pilgrim's Progress" and "The Prince and the Pauper" really didn't pay off. Those water colours I dabbled in aren't worth the cost of the supplies it took to make them. The summers I spent volunteering (my idea) at the Canadian National Institute for the Blind, Women's College and Sunnybrook hospitals, looked great on my resume, but never put a dime in my pocket in terms of helping me to garner future employment.
I'VE NEVER WORKED A 'REAL' JOB IN MY ENTIRE LIFE.
And thanks, Dad, for pushing me to do pre-med at university even though I had no natural affinity for physics and chemistry and no desire to be a doctor. The ensuing disillusionment that settled in after dropping out, deepened my psychological development while forcing me to question my identity. If I wasn't going to be a doctor healing sick African babies (his dream, not mine), then who the fuck am I??
EVERYTHING MY FATHER EVER TOLD ME WAS TRUE TURNED OUT TO BE UTTERLY AND COMPLETELY FALSE.
And so here I am, destitute. My "busines", such as it was, never recovered from the dive it took when the markets crashed over a year-and-a-half ago. I'm like one of those small businesses that did just okay enough to survive before the recession, that's now cleared out, boarded up and a hollow landmark to someone else's livelihood. Funny, I've yet to see one media report about what happens to those people after they've finally thrown in the towel. I guess those kinds of stories don't sell rags or increase pageviews. But how the rich are sacrificing by cutting back junior's hockey practices from three times a week to two? Now that's a story! Run with it!
I DREAD CALLING MY CONDO MANAGER TOMORROW.
Needless to say, if things don't turn around for me in a dramatic way over the next few days, I'm out on my ass. I don't know where I'll end up, cause I'm too scared to think that far ahead. (Liar - it's all I've been thinking about for months now.) I hope I can continue to stay where I am, and get out of the business in a way that doesn't turn my life upside down, but I have to say at this point, it looks like it's going to take a fucking miracle. I'm supposed to meet someone tomorrow night who's well-connected and could possibly open some doors for me, but he's not exactly reliable.
I'LL FUCKING TAKE WHAT I CAN GET.
Oh, and one more thing?
I DON'T FUCKING DESERVE THIS.