I only get to go because my dad feels guilty for ignoring me on holidays and thinks money is love. But that's almost what stopped me, too... the money is love thing. This f2f paid for by The Payback Is A Bitch Foundation of Central and Southern Arizona. (if I ever inherit anything and he's as wealthy as I suspect, I'm creating one and calling it that.)

I only get to go because my dad feels guilty for ignoring me on holidays and thinks money is love.

Much as this blows, I am still in the "Who cares? I get to hang with erika!" camp!

I only get to go because my dad feels guilty for ignoring me on holidays and thinks money is love.

Heh. Once my Father showed up with a shiny new bike for me after being AWOL for six months. I was railing about this to a friend (as offended by the triteness of the gesture as the gesture its self)...

Trudy: He's trying to BUY MY LOVE

Friend: Well let him try...

Of course I take the money, not being congenitally stupid, and in this instance, definitely with a goal in mind, but it makes me feel as though next time I see him I should expect ones in my thong or something. Maybe I should move to Scottsdale, take out an "outcall massage' ad and have done. Then I could get money from *everybody's* fuck-up dad. But they'd think my name was Chloe and I was "buying books for college", of course.

Just don't let them succeed in buying your affection is what he meant. I found it very cheering.

Not as "cheering" as a little back-o-the-paper action, however. Now what have we here... t thumbs through pages Hmm... Chloe. Hmm... she looks like a smartass with a Baltimore fetish...

OOOH! Remember when Teppy the Vanilla Hooker? You could totally do Homicide Hooker Outcalls! Put a big Dominoe's sugar sign on your wall, serve them crabs (the boiled kind), and imply that Det. Munch gets freebies whenever he's back in town.

Wrod. Time-honored Phoenix method of keeping the madams out of jail, btw. Giving stuff up for free, you know. Maybe I could set up shop in the Historical District.

...I still think that a phone sex job might not be a bad thing. Could be a money spinner, and I'm good at being flirty on the phone. (It's just in person that I get shy/brash and run away.) And I like to write the porn. And in the States, an English accent might get one extra brownie points? Maybe?

Fay, I think you'd end up a millionaire.

Tons. You'd be rolling in brass. Did I say that right? Brass? You could quit your day job. Maybe I'm biased.

Fay, do it, babe. I'll refer people over to you and I won't even ask for a cut. You could totally pull it off.