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!
Plan what to do, what to wear (you can never go wrong with a corset), and get ready for the next BuffistaCon: San Francisco, May 19-21, 2006! Everything else, go here! Swag!
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.
...you know, it actually is pretty damned tempting. Maybe I could try it as a summer job some time. (I had a friend who did this for a while, when she was between jobs. She really enjoyed it.)