helloooooooooo is this thing on?

hi!! i don't know if anyone will see this, since i stopped writing here over a year ago.

here's what happened: i got super extremely depressed and couldn't/didn't write at all for several months. then my computer died. and then i got a new one, and i was feeling better and wanted to update this blog, but i couldn't remember my sign-in info. any of it. i mean it was just POOF gone from my mind. i hadn't needed to sign in for over a year, bc i just stayed signed in on the old computer. so. that was it. i felt pretty badly about it, i was like, "people who used to read my blog probably think i died or something." and THEN the new computer got submerged in water. and while it's being repaired (i hope they can fix it!!) i was like, "hmmm maybe i can get that old beast to turn on." i had tried this here and there over the last year, and it was always unresponsive, or else would turn on but would turn off before i could do anything useful. welp, today i tried turning it on, and not only did it purr right to life, but it still hasn't shut itself off, and i've been typing this to you for at least 10 minutes. ALSO, i was still signed in to blogger.

SO! HELLO!

i don't actually have any story ideas for right this minute, but i'm gonna create a new login situation that i can write down and have, and then maybe tomorrow i'll tell some highlights from this past year.

yayyyyyy xo andi

redbook got seized by the fbi!!! wtf

"HOLY SHIT. well i am going down to cali tomorrow and i was gonna work a little bit while i'm there. i went to update my massage ad and here's at what i see:

the escort website i usually post on has been seized by the FBI. this is so sad for many reasons. 

first of all, all the reviews all of the girls have accrued over the years are just completely gone. also, it is extremely inadvisable to keep escort numbers in your phone, same goes for clients. so this website is where someone would reference real quick to find my number. and now it's gone.

second of all, it was THE MAIN / ONLY free site. i personally can afford to take out an expensive ad elsewhere, but what will this mean for girls who have less resources? you have to have a credit card to advertise on the other main site. a lot of sex workers who advertise on redbook might not have credit cards. they might not even have ID. this is gonna mean a lot more sex workers will have to hit the streets, which is dangerous. i'm so, so, soooo glad that massage isn't my only source of income anymore. if this had happened before i moved, i would have been SO BEYOND SCREWED. no pun intended. i mean it.

i looked around and was able to find this article about it.

http://www.sfexaminer.com/sanfrancisco/sf-based-escort-website-myredbook-siezed-by-fbi/Content?oid=2830030 

the "reasons" for persecuting sex workers seems to always be these "trafficked children." but the statistics that the FBI provides are super fake. just totally fabricated.

i read another article on cnn.com and this was one of the comments in the comments section, goes a little haywire at the end, but the numbers are right on:

"According to the FBI and the victim pimp organization Polaris Project, there are between 100,000 to 300,000 NEW minors being trafficked into prostitution every year- and these liars also claim that the average lifespan of a prostitute is about 5 to 7 years, meaning that if there are 100,000 new ones each year coming in, there are 500,000 existing victims (if 5 years is our lifespan) and 700,000 existing victims if it is 7 years and there are only 100,000…. multiply those numbers by 3 and that's what they claim are being trafficked every year… and YET, they manage to find a mere 168 in a week, in 106 cities using how many agents to rescue them? Last year, it was 76 cities, 105 rescues, 3,900 agents- so that is hmmm…. 37 agents per child rescued, 1.4 victims per city, which shows that either the cops are incredibly inept OR the Polaris Project and other abolitionists are LIARS… and if the cops are able to find victims by referencing the websites, WHY WOULD THEY CLOSE THEM DOWN, rather than continue to monitor them and rescue those they find online? Because it is ALL BS… ALL OF IT- there are MORE COPS who rape minors than who are 'rescued' every year through this 'operation BS" - oops, I mean- 'operation cross country'… search for PEDOPHILES AND CHILD PORN- THE COPS, JUDGES, DAs, FBI AGENTS, SECRET SERVICE AGENTS AND OTHER GOVERNMENT EMPLOYEES WHO CAN'T KEEP THEIR HANDS OFF MINORS to see the long and horrific list of cops who rape minors…."

peepshow on a boat!

a friend of mine is producing this event in san francisco this weekend. looks so rad! a floating peepshow.
http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/670605

i may be wildly depressed, but at least i look good.

so lonesome i could cry.

just got home from work. i feel crazy. i've said this before, and i am really feeling it again, how hard it can be to do sex work when you have no romantic life of your own. like your sexy forces are just flowing out from you, and nothing is coming back in (except MONEY, obviously). this one-way flow has been leaving me feeling sad and depleted. i mean, of course men are raining their sexual desire upon you, but being desired as an sex object and being desired as a romantic partner/actual person are so different.

i've had such a rough go of it these last two years. getting dumped by the person i thought was my person. and then not having sex or even making out with anyone for months and months. and then dating someone for a few months and liking her a lot, and thinking things were going well but then just randomly getting dumped again. and now so much more solo time.

right now i'm crushed on someone who wants to have sex with me sometimes, but not date me. she's being very communicative and clear, which is good. but though i am trying not to feel this way, i feel very into her and i want to date her. i need to decide whether i can keep doing a casual sex-only thing with her. i love being with her but to know we are having completely different experiences with each other feels a little sad, and disingenuous, and it's bringing up a lot of old feelings. i had sex with people for YEARS who just wanted sex, but when it came to dating thought they could do better or just do different. a lot of times i've actually thought i was dating someone, and it turned out i was just sexy filler until they could find a real girlfriend. over and over: good enough to fuck but not to date. i am a pretty self-aware person, but i really do not know what this is about. i have tried to figure it out, but the things i come up with are hard to accept-- like i cannot think it's because i am not a good person or that i don't have a lovable heart.

annnnnyway. i worked tonight and i was feeling super sad and bummy before work. and i was kinda of surly and unmotivated and so of course came home with hardly any money.

oh! and add to all this, there's this other girl i've had a crush on, and i've asked her out twice and both times she's said no. which is fine, i mean whatever. well she is looking for ways to make money besides getting a job job, and one of her ideas is to offer cuddling dates. she asked if i'd be interested in that, and at first i thought, "yes!" then, "wait, no!" and then i considered it for a minute because i would actually love to be snuggled by her. but no! i need to believe i can have cute girls cuddle me for free, if not today than at least eventually. i don't consider myself to be a customer. you know? nothing wrong with customers. in fact--thank god for them. but if i was going to pay someone to be intimate with me, i think it would need to be a stranger. and. i don't want to pay anyone.

god i am just whining now. and i'm basically falling asleep at the keys. so goodnight.

nails on a chalkboard

last night i worked with a girl who kept snorting coke in the dressing room and then zipping around the club all night, talking extraordinarily loud at all times, telling weird jokes and thinking she was being hilarious and witty, but actually just being loud and annoying. i detest her fake laugh. i'm so happy i don't do coke anymore. ew.

this same girl also has an eating disorder which is not her fault, but is difficult to watch. she is suuuuuper skinny, and last time i worked with her she kept talking about how hard it is for her to put on weight, how she never works out but just miraculously stays skinny. during our shift she ate like 3 orders of jalepeno poppers, a huge burrito, and also french fries, and then went and barfed. i could hear her while i was touching up my makeup. i dislike watching people binge and then hearing them purge. so sad. and also: quit talking to me about your genetically lucky metabolism.

other than her, i had an okay night. not great, but not terrible.

happy new year!

here's a post i thought i'd posted, but was actually just saved as a draft.

1/1/14

hi! haven't written in a while. sorry. i just haven't felt like it. anyway: hello! happy new year!

last night i worked and it was a very mediocre night. i had requested the night off but i was scheduled to work anyway and my boss has been extremely sick so asking her for things is generally frowned upon. i had been planning, in an uncharacteristic change of pace, to go to a mellow friend's house to have dinner and drink and dance in the living room and then have a slumber party and wake up and have new year's brunch. but. i canceled. i don't mean to sound pathetic, it wasn't actually a huge deal. a little sad but not earth shattering.

i made two glitzy new outfits and went to work and decided to have fun. nobody i like a lot was working. and all the customers were not that exciting. i made a decent amount of money and was so happy when it was time to go home. my friends were texting me from an afterparty, but i knew everyone would be wild on drugs and i've been partaking less and less. i didn't feel like waking up on new years day with a hangover or a sinus infection. plus, i had some pink champagne waiting for me in the fridge, and the world's cutest brand new kitten of all time. so i went home and snuggled with him and had a couple glasses of bubbly while i wrote down new year's wishes and goals. woke up today totally clear-headed and not even a teensy bit hungover. feels great!

last year, though, was WILD. allow me to tell you about it, because i don't think i wrote about it last year.

my favorite two coworkers and i all signed up to work together last year on new year's eve. we had a really good time and each made over a G, which feels like an appropriate amount for working a major holiday. when i got off work i was in a super great mood. i hadn't drank very much so i could drive to the party where all my friends were.

i rolled up and as soon as i was in the party i saw my friend H. she was super happy to see me, came up and yelled "ANDI!!! you're finally here!!!" her pupils were so dilated it's like she didn't even have irises. i wanted to be that high. H said, "go talk to that guy!" and pointed to a guy. i went over to him and instead of buying one pill, as i normally would, i was like fuck it! i'll take two. so i paid him and he handed me his cocktail to wash them down with.

right then, H was rushing toward me, but like in slow motion, with her arm outstretched. "NOOOOOOO," she said as she approached. "did you just take the whoooole thiiiiiing?!"

i thought it unwise to say i'd taken TWO whole things. "yes," i said.

she looked kinda panicked and, putting her arm around me, said, "um. that's ok! it's uh... ok! everything's gonna be fine. ...it's just that we all split them, because it's white lightning."

i'd never heard of that. i said, "isn't that moonshine?" but she didn't hear me because she had disappeared.

so then i wandered around a bit looking for friends. acquaintances kept saying, "YAY IT'S ANDI!" then disappearing. i went upstairs to the attic, to a room that was red and full of pillows. i laid down on my friend B. like, directly on top of her. we stayed like that for a little while, and i could feel myself getting really high. usually molly takes a little time with me. maybe 15 minutes? maybe half an hour? i've never timed it, but it's not usually right away that i start to feel anything.

i was squishing B, so i got off her. i wanted to go find H and my crew, but i could not find them, and as i looked for them, this weird guy started following me. i didn't like his ironic hipster mustache, it was so kidnapper-y. the party was in a huge 3 story house, and i was traipsing around to all the rooms, and this guy was hot on my trail the whole time, if i stopped he stopped. if i walked around a corner, he walked around a corner. at one point, i even squatted down and then popped up really quick, and he did the same. i said, "what?! why are you following me?"

"i like you," he replied. i was immediately certain that if i stayed at this party, this creep was gonna rape me. gut feeling. also i think the drugs were making me paranoid.

i was thinking, "i don't have a girlfriend. i don't have a girlfriend. i don't have a girlfriend and i can't find my friends and i am alone here and i am in danger." except i hadn't thought it, i'd said it aloud. yelled it, actually, because right then my friend Rachel was like, "i'm right here! you're fine!" but then she disappeared too. i high-tailed it out of the party. the guy followed me, followed me across the street to my car, and was trying to get in my car! i yelled at him to go away but he kept saying, "can't you drive me to oregon city?" when i started my car and let off the e-brake, the guy had the good sense to take his hand off the door handle and step back. thankfully.

i knew i shouldn't be driving. but i wasn't drunk, and cabs are impossible on new year's eve. i figured i probably had just enough time to get home before i peaked. so (i know! i know! this is bad that i drove while high on drugs. i won't do it again, and haven't) i drove like a model citizen, hypervigilantly aware of other cars and the speed limit and my proximity to cops.

i parked and went up to my apartment, and that whole time i was fine. when i opened the door to my apartment, though, it was like opening a lisa frank trapper keeper. all rainbows and twinkling dolphins. i closed the door. normal door from the outside. totally normal. i opened the door again, and it was the same thing, a technicolor lisa frank wonderland. i was amazed and bewildered, and stepped inside.

i had assumed that white lightning was just extra potent MDMA. but now that i was hallucinating wildly, i really didn't know what was up. it felt like acid to me. with the stimulant properties of molly, and the softness of that too, but with such a bright acid edge. i'll stop trying to describe, i'll just say i was higher than i've ever been on any drug ever in my life. i mean, just totally wild. i thought i was peaking, but oh man i was only 1/4 way up that mountain. also i should mention that i've taken another version of "white lightning" since then, and that was just strong molly. hard to know what things are when every drug has like a zillion different street names and incarnations.

so. once i was inside, the first thing i did was move my heavy table in front of my front door, like a barricade in case i thought it would be a good idea to go traipsing around out in the world as my drug trip progressed.

then i tried to vomit but couldn't. so i had no choice but to settle in for the ride. i was floating up so high, almost out of my body, so i decided to put on a movie to ground myself. i chose breakfast at tiffany's, which is high on my list of comfort movies. i laid down on the couch and got up and danced and laid back down and had visions and laughed at jokes in my head and just acted like a total crazy person. for the most part once i accepted the fact that i had no control, that there was no way to become less high till it was over, i had a great time. here and there things threatened to take a dark turn but i just steered them back to fun. at one point, i was laying on the floor watching a cartoon dolphin tank on the ceiling with stars and hearts and pink and purple and turquoise everything. i watched breakfast at tiffany's at least 4 times, and even though i know the movie by heart, unexpected plot twists were occurring. AND the best part was that the racist mickey rooney character didn't exist anymore. he's been totally written out.

at some point, hours after the sun had come up, i fell asleep. i had wild dreams and woke myself up yelling things a couple times, but eventually entered a deep and satisfying sleep. and when i got up for the day at 5pm, it was getting dark and i still felt kinda high. i went to my friend's bar and had a bloody mary and some black eyed peas. and i felt weird and loopy but find and so glad to be there, and excited about 2013.

xxo andi

my dick in a box

i have  co-worker who loves dancing to kitschy novelty songs, like storm large's "my vagina is 8 miles wide," and other songs i can't remember the names of, though i've heard them all one million times. well last night she played that adam sandler/justin timberlake song, "my dick in a box." it was slow for a bit, so i was sitting with my other coworker having a drink at the bar, and when that song came on, she turns to me and says with nary a hint of irony, "this song always makes me feel so festive." i said, "whaaaaat?" and she goes, "i just love christmas songs."

beach town

last weekend i went out to the coast to work at a little seaside club. my friend worked out there last month and said it could be good, and i wanted to get out of town for a couple days so i called ahead and texted pictures, and the lady said come on out.  i decided to make a little trip of it.

the shifts there are very long. they start at 4:45 in the afternoon and end at 2:30am. almost ten hours!! i didn't want my entire day to only be driving and work, so i left town early-ish so i could stop at some thrift stores on my way out there. i found some great things. my two faves were a tie-dyed garfield t-shirt and a tiny cropped motorcycle jacket.

when i got to the coast, i checked in to my hotel, which is the oldest hotel in town and has a rustic wild west vibe. it's not decorated western, but the actual building has that air. like it could've been a brothel at some point, or just the nice hotel in the rugged little fishing town. my room was only $70 per night, because it's kind of hostel style, with a shared bathroom, an it was SO CUTE! just really perfect. high ceilings, old fixtures. a little sink, and an old desk. there were two big windows that looked out over downtown and if i stood on the bed, i could see the ocean. i liked the room so much, but no sooner had i checked in than i had to leave for work. sad.

i drove to the club, and it, too, was in an old timey building. the manager showed me around, and left me in the dressing room to get ready. "the girls have been warned, they are not to bully you," she said. "if anybody bullies you, just come right to me."

"uh oh," i thought.

i did my hair and makeup and the girls trickled in one by one till there were 8 of us girls in the teeny tiny dressing room. i did what i always do at a new club, just totally kept to myself.

there wasn't a dj so the manager had one of the girls show me how to use a big old desktop PC to play music for my sets. and then there were just several hours of hanging out not making money or doing anything, really, besides sitting around looking at instagram and getting up on stage every hour or so. the bar only serves beer and wine, but there is a bar a few doors down that all the girls go to on their break. everyone gets two scheduled 15 minute breaks to go have a real cocktail down the street. how cute.

around 8pm i started to feel super antsy. i'd been there three and a half hours and barely had $40 in my purse. i was thinking i'd just leave, but then this guy materialized out of nowhere and wanted 5 dances. so then i decided to stay a while. after that i did some more dances for a different guy, and the place started to feel worth my while. none of the other girls had sold any dances yet, and they were definitely throwing me shade, which i pretended not to notice.

at 10:30 i was sitting with a customer, and the bartender came to tell me it was time for my scheduled break. i don't drink beer or wine, so i'd just been drinking water for the last 6 hours, and i felt ready for a stiff drink. the guy i was sitting with offered to go buy me a drink there, and he seemed nice enough, and it was only three doors down, so i was like, "sure."

we went down and had a drink. and then he wanted to take a shot with me. i don't usually have two drinks right in a row like that, but i felt pretty sure i wasn't going to get all the way dressed and come back on my next "break," so i thought "why not." then we had to rush back to the club. on the way back the guy said, "ok i'm ready for my kiss."

i said, "haha. what? no."

he said, "please?"

"no thanks," i said. "i have to get back to work."

he grabbed my wrist and tried to shove me into this teeny alleyway--not so much an alleyway as a narrow crevice between two buildings. i said, "knock it off! let go of me!" he didn't let go, just started leaning in for a kiss, so i stamped on his foot and punched him on the inside of his elbow, and his hand let my wrist go. i said, "get outta here!!" but he followed me into the bar anyway. i felt embarrassed for going to the bar with him, i mean how dumb am i? it just seemed fine, but now that i think about it it wasn't very smart. and he seemed to be a bar regular. i had a feeling if i complained about him it wouldn't do much good so i just tried to ignore him leering at me for the next hour until he left. asshole.

one of the house girls was having a birthday that night. she didn't say how old she was turning, but i'd guess 48 or 49, and i'm not exaggerating. most of the girls gave her presents. body spray, etc. one girl gave her a victoria's secret bag and i thought, "ooh, nice," but it wasn't cute lingerie, it was a sparkly tube dress from charlotte russe. what a misleading bag! i wondered if the birthday lady was disappointed. if she was, it didn't show.

listen, i have to work on my other projects, because there is no way in hell i'm gonna be a 48 year old dancer, working on my birthday, wearing a pink light-up tiara and getting wasted on mike's hard lemonade.

as the night wore on, the customers just got weirder and weirder. i sat for a long while with a john lithgow look-alike. the physical resemblance was uncanny, and he had a deep television voice like john lithgow, too. the guy said he used to work in radio as a news reporter for 30 years till he got downsized last year, and now he works in the fitting room at ross dress for less. he didn't seem stoked about it, but neither did he seem particularly bummed, just matter of fact: i got downsized, now i work at ross. i didn't have the heart to hustle him after that so i went and talked to other people.

i went to the dressing room, and this girl started talking about how her sister always gave her shit about being a stripper, calling her a whore, but then always wanting to borrow money. she said, "i mean, we're not whores! i'd say we were a close cousin to the prostitute, though. i mean we are being sexy for money, even if we're not having actual sex." the next time i went in there, she was saying, "i mean, do i really care what any of these guys think of me? or even any of the other girls?! NO. i don't. i just really don't." there seems to always be a girl who hangs out in the dressing room a lot, for whatever reason: the dressing room philosopher.

i talked for a while with a doctor from new york who was in town on his very first fishing trip. i can sense when a customer is about to drop a bunch of money on me, and this guy was very close. UNTIL this super wasted baby stripper came up and draped herself all over him, telling him how she was almost late for work because "these mexicans don't know how to drive," and then chronicling the entire profanity-filled fender bender in inane detail. she just went on and on and got louder and more slurry. she sat in his lap ON HIS BARSTOOL, and then fell down, at which point the guy just got up and left. i was so annoyed. this girl was just messy in general, had been stripping out of a ratty jean skirt and abercrombie t-shirt all night, and was a super messy dancer, all angles and unpointed toes. i had felt bad for her, but now i disliked her.

i did a lot of dances in the last two hours and i don't remember much about anyone except the last guy i danced for, who was probably one of the very most bizarre characters i've ever met. he was about 4'11'', and wore a drapey silk shirt and pants like an '80's popstar in a music video. very lionel richie / billy ocean. he had a mullet, and it was like no mullet i've ever seen up close, very extreme, very curly. i think he was indian, he was brown and had an indian sounding name, but i'm not sure. and he had a super thick new york accent. when we got back to the lapdance area he just wanted me to sit and talk to him. he told me how his wife had died nine months ago to the day. a lot of the things he said seemed like rehearsed lines, turns of phrase he'd employed over and over to talk about his tragedy. other things sounded like blatant lies, but i listened politely as if he were telling me a true story. i asked how long they'd been married. he said, "well since i was 25 and she was 31. so...um...let's see...i guess that would make it 29 years." i feel like most grieving widowers would know how long they'd been married without having to perform quick math.

finally the night was over. i felt like i was gonna fall over with exhaustion. i went to my hotel and had a little snack in bed all cozy. the next day i went to antique stores, and had delicious food, and went to the beach, it was so nice.

please don't kill sex workers.

http://gawker.com/texas-says-its-ok-to-shoot-an-escort-if-she-wont-have-511636423

god!!! this is so fucked up. a terrible and horrifying miscarriage of justice. AND you know, i'd like to see this girl's ad. $150 seems super low for a full-service outcall, even in texas, and i wouldn't be surprised if it was an ad for massage or something. i have definitely had clients get pissed off or scary with me when i declined to suck their dick or let them fuck me. but even if she was offering full-service and was indeed withholding it for whatever reason and ripping him off, to shoot her in the goddamn neck and then get off? i feel so depressed right now.