I know, I know, of course you probably have already decided that I could never be a hooker just by reading this blog. You all know enough about me by now to know that prostitution just isn’t my gig. Not because I have high moral standards, but because I just couldn’t spend that much time and energy pleasing someone else….even if I was paid….a lot. I came to this startling conclusion one night last week. It was one of those nights (we all have) where I was tossing and turning and checking the clock doing math...okay, it’s 2:30 and I need to get up at 6:00, so that leaves me (I am now counting on my fingers) one, two, crap, only 4 and a half hours of sleep if I fall asleep RIGHT NOW! Oh, god! now it’s only four hours...
I decided to see if there was a boring movie on TV so it could lull me to sleep. I was shocked at what I saw. I have cable with the respectable movie channels…not the borderline porn movie channels. I had absolutely no idea what kind of filthy trash was on cable at 2 AM! I was so offended that I almost changed the channel….but not quite. I couldn’t look away! I had turned on in the middle of a “special” about a legal brothel in one of our western states.
Let me re-state my new found decision….I can never be a prostitute. But it’s not the reason you may think. It’s not the obviously disgusting job of being obligated to have sex with creepy, pathetic losers….we’ve all done that, don’t lie….think back. No, it’s the freakin’ body maintenance! These chicks have waxed, plucked, and shaved every hair from their bodies, but oddly enough kept their country music big Texas (head) hair coifed within an inch of its life. Every one of them had a complicated hair infrastructure that must have taken more Aqua Net than Wally World had in stock!
I mean seriously, it’s not the sex, it’s the daily waxing! OUCH! The orange "all over" spray tans. I like tan lines, it shows me how much tanning progress I’m making. It’s like you would have a gyno appointment every day! Fluff, puff, spray, and clean….all day long! It’s also the itchy body glitter, the blue eye shadow, the eyelashes, the high heels! I could never fit my foot into those clear heels….I did like the neon light up heels, but not to wear, maybe just to place on the table as a centerpiece...on Easter.
Would they let me be a hooker in flannel Pj’s and Ugg slippas? Hell no! Don’t even get me started on the appliances and sex toys that, frankly, turn me off! I do not want anything that is powered by any artificial means going anywhere that could cause serious shocking injuries. With my luck I would end up in the ER with a power appliance in places no man should go…evah! Oh, who am I kidding there is no way I could even think about the logistics of the gymnastics involved in using those devices accurately!
Anyway, this brothel was stereotypical in many ways…huge fake titties connected to bleach blond mindless giggle machines with bright pink lips, leopard print wallpaper, fun fur, and hot pink, pink, pink everywhere…but the personal interviews with the “employees” was what was the discouraging to feminists everywhere. They actually loved their job! I have never seen anything like it. They, for the most part, were average looking girls who discussed their exploits in great detail.
On this episode, it was “Creepy Bald Fat Guy’s” (the brothel owner) birthday. I expected someone to jump out of a cake, but I guess that trick is soooo 1976. No, they all drank nasty sounding shots off of each other (really? that’s the best you all can do at your birthday party in a brothel? Spring break body shots?) I was getting bored, I mean I almost changed the channel…almost. It’s a lot like watching a train wreck….in a brothel….with hookers. Okay, this blond (duh) chick with absolutely no body hair and badly done fake ta-tas (that looked like upside down plastic Tupperware bowls separated by the Erie Canal….you’ve seen these titties…on a certain deceased Hollywood mogul’s daughter….Her name rhymes with…..Oh, what the hell it's Tori Spelling! What is up with her ta-tas? Tori, you are the spoiled extremely homely horse faced, untalented daughter of the richest old fart in Hollywood and you bought yourself some discount boobies? Yikes! Once again I digress….anyway, this denuded pre-pubesant looking bimbo did a handstand and landed with her legs wrapped around Creepy’s neck….with her nekkid body facing the camera! Full frontal EW! Even Creepy looked unnerved. “What do I do now? I’m on camera…” I mean, I do not shock easily, but I almost lost my dinner. I felt that now was the time to change the channel….but I didn’t….because I had to see how this skank fest ended…and it ended badly, and hilariously. Creepy’s “girlfriend” Tiffani….with an “i” who also happened to be a 20 year old (allegedly…wink, wink) who was also a freakin’ hooker at the “ranch” (surprise, surprise) got jealous when the other 20 year old (uh-huh) hooker did her awkward gymnastics move on Creepy with no chance for a delicate dismount. She packed her feather boa and her clear heels and drove off in her ’87 Camaro on her way back to Arkansas. Creepy barely noticed she was gone…another surprise…and the wild rumpus continued as the credits rolled. The final shot was of Tiffani with an “i” wiping away the tear as the gas light on her '87 Camaro turned on…ding….ding….
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