How Have I Not Posted This!?
Sometimes my brain slips away from meits cool, though. Shes a Good Girl, and she always comes back.
When I first got down to Austin, there was a snafu with my agency.
They thought I was in Boston, so I was showing up to hotels that didnt have the right person in them.
*And yes, the dumbass who confused the words Boston and Austin has since been fired.
So I needed to make some money.
I was on Career Builder looking for legitimate employment, when I came across a job posting;
The guy owned a promotional company, out of LA, and was looking for an assistant. It appeared he posted all over the country, as it was a pretty ambiguous post. He made no distinctions on gender or age or anything, so everything seemed legit.
Besides, it was career builder, not craigslist.
I sent along my resume, it was probably 11pm, Texas time. I got a return e-mail almost immediately. That caught me off guard a little, but then I thought, well, its only 9pm in California, and Los Angeles isnt exactly a 9-5 city.
The reply didnt say much, just said to
Call Michael at 323-555-0000, hes up late. Signed Heather.
I replied that it was late, Id call tomorrow in the morning with a fresh head.
Michael will call you.
Okay, fine, whatever. Bedtime.
The next morning, my phone rang323-555-0000. Must be Michael.
I answered, and he sounded pretty normal, the job sounded pretty normal. He said he worked with models (its LA, so no big surprise there) and that he booked events for New Years and various holidays [BY THE WAY, this is in the days before Thanksgiving] at venues in Vegas, LA, and New York. The salary was $5000 a month. A little exorbitant to me, but whatever. $200 a month was more than I was making at that point.
Everything seemed legitimate.
When do you want to fly out?
I have to buy the ticket, right?
Well, yes, but youll be making money, as long as your resume isnt bullshit.
Okay, I figured I could spend my rent money on a ticket, make money, and be fine.
What airport do I need to fly into? You know, since there are a few in that whole Orange County area.
Youll need to fly into Dayton.
Dayton? Dayton California? I didnt know there was such a place.
So I said, Dayton, California?
No, Dayton Ohio.
Ohio? I thought you were in Los Angeles
He went on to explain that his mother had recently died, and he was in his house in Dayton finishing up probate stuff.
I told him that I could always wait to come out to LA, if he needed time to deal with a family death.
*My between the lines version of that was [I dont want to go to Ohio, Ill wait until you get back to LA].
He assured me it was no trouble. So I found a ticket to Dayton. I had to go to San Antonio to fly to Atlanta, to fly to Dayton. It was a nightmare. And Id only purchased a one-way ticket, because I didnt have enough for a round trip.
So, I get to Dayton at like 9pm. Its a teeny tiny hole in the wall airport.
While I was waiting for my bags, he called me,
Turn around.
And there her was.
Dressed like an ABSOLUTE hobo. He was an obese black man, wearing beat up skate shoes, raggedy jeans, and a hoodie that LOOKED like it hadnt been washed for months. He came over to hug me, and it SMELLED like it hadnt been washed in months, either.
I immediately stared to panic. I got my bag, and followed him out towards his car.
We were headed towards a brand new Lexus. Okay, maybe it was just his hoodie that was disgusting.
But we passed the Lexus, and instead, he unlocked the drivers side of a 1998 (or so) Ford Taurus that had CLEARLY seen better days.
It had Ohio tags on it, so I thought, you know, maybe it was his mothers, and hes gonna junk it or sell it or something.
*Shut up, Im hopefully stupid sometimes.
He eventually decided to let me into the car, and sometimes I wish he hadnt.
The smell inside of the car was OVERWHELMING. It smelled like a cigarette bitch slapped a rotting cheeseburger wrapper. Coupled with that; in the backseat was a dog. And a tube television. The dog was filthy, and the TV was covered in an inch or two of dust. It was gross.
I had been in the air all day (on Delta, no less, so you KNOW I wasnt fed.), so it would stand to reason that I was STARVING. I asked him if we could go somewhere to eat before they closed (you know, since most places lock up at 10). He looked at me. His face said, You have GOT to be kidding me
WHAT! San Antonio is like an hour and a half away, and I had to get there 2 hours before the flight, then I flew to Atlanta and lost an hour, and since I had to fly Delta I had to SPRINT from concourse A to concourse D jumping over people STANDING STILL on the people-movers only to arrive at the gate as they were preparing to close the doors to the jet way, then to the frozen abyss that is Dayton, Ohio. Its late, I havent had any food all day.
FEED ME!
He pulled into a truck stop. Yeah. A truck stop.
I started to think, while trying to force down my greasy grilled cheese sandwich, and trying to pretend that the chocolate milk in front of me (can you tell I was seeking comfort food?) wasnt teetering on the edge of souring;
I have to get home
And
I dont think I want to stay in his house.
So, I mentioned to him that Id had a really long day, and that Id probably sleep better if I was in a hotel.
So, he obliged, to my absolute shock. He drove me to a dumpy little hotel, and said,
Ill pick you up in the morning.
Youre not gonna pay for my room?
I dont have any money
Wait
How is this guy supposed to pay me $5,000 a month when he cant pay for a hotel that couldnt have been more than $45 for the night?!?
My heart literally sank. I started trying to try to figure out a plan, but then realized my phone was dead, so I HAD to get back to his house, if for no other reason than to charge my phone.
So, as we drive to his house, I couldnt help but notice we were driving through an industrial area.
Now, excuse my brain if she was making a sweeping generalization, but usually, neighborhoods in industrial zones arent the best neighborhoods.
And unfortunately, I was right.
We approached what appeared to be a trail park.
Upon entering the park I realized that the structures I thought were trailers werent, though they were the same dimensions.
They were, in fact, sets of 3 studio apartments. So, use your imagination. PRETTY small, right?
Right.
So, I walk in, hoping, that SOMEHOW it has Time Lord Technology (for those of you who arent cool enough to watch Dr. Who, that means; Its Bigger On The Inside) and that the one 12x12 room I was looking at wasnt IT.
So, wheres your bedroom?
He gestured to the open room with nothing but a loveseat in it.
My jaw literally gaped open.
There was no bedjust a raggedy loveseatand as an obese man, he more than occupied it.
But NEVER FEAR!! He walked over to what I assumed was a closet, and opened the door.
Out. Fell. A. Murphy. Bed.
Oh. My. God.
I plugged in my phone, and started trying to think of how in the hell I could get out here with no money, and not offending this guy. Remember, I know almost literally nothing, and the human he made him out to be was not the human he actually was.
*I thought these types of slime were confined to craigslist, and not on career builder.
Lets get down to business.
I was SERIOUSLY hoping that business didnt entail slicing my throat, fucking my corpse, and leaving my body in the industrial yards behind the studio apartment hell I found myself in.
I got the ball rolling [read-probing]. Wheres Heather?
The look on his face answered my question; There IS no Heather.
He quickly, and somehow not shockingly, he informed me that he actually ran an escort agency. [Read-hes a pimp.]
I tried to play dumb, like I dont have one foot in the sex industry, just to see how much crap hed try to feed me.
He tries to tell me that some escorting work is required on my behalf.
Jawdrop. Are you KIDDING ME?!
Wow. It would have been nice if you would have mentioned this prior to me buying a plane ticket. Because I have no desire to be a prostitute.
Well, theres really good money in it.
*Remember, Im a private stripper, and I make anywhere from $200-$400 an hour. So this was an interesting, albeit, funny, listen for me.
So he continued to go on with how upscale his clients were, and this and that
He tells me about his other girls, one of whom was coming in the morning.
So, I say that I have to call it a night, Im exhausted, and excused myself to the bathroom.
The bathroom, Im not kidding, was PROBABLY 6x6. It had a hospital/preschool style sink, where the bowl comes out of the wall, no stand, no vanity, a toilet, and a stall shower. The shower curtain was so molded, I think it was more mold than curtain. I sat down to pee, and suddenly realized there was no toilet paper.
Come on, Jen, why would there be?!
There was also no soap in the shower. So my theory about him not showering seemed correct.
So, I go back into the room (I mean, thats all I can call it) and found him laying on the loveseat, covered in a nice, thick blanket. (Remember, this is Ohio in late November). He was already asleep and snoring like a brush hog.
So I climbed onto the Murphy bed mattress, blanketless, and freezing. Then the damned dog jumped up with me. Seriously, that dog smelled like death. And the DOG snored, too.
I didnt sleep at all.
In the morning, Michael woke up, and asked me if I wanted breakfast.
I did, and he went out to get breakfast.
He returned 10 minutes later with a smashed nutri-grain bar, and a child-sized bottle of bug juice; hed CLEARLY gone to the gas station for my food. I skipped eating.
BUT, while he was getting my breakfast, genius struck. I used my phone to post an ad on craigslist. I went to the housing part, figuring, as a pimp, hed be grazing the adult sections, and I wasnt willing to do anything sexual to get home.
I posted an ad that said I had been bamboozled, and blindsided, and now found myself stuck in Dayton. I needed a clean, safe place to figure out how the hell I was gonna get home.
Of course, I got TONS of responses from creepy men who would buy me a ticket if I sucked their dick, and things of that general nature. I had one lady contact me needed a caretakerthings were looking good for good old Jen.
In the mean time, the other girl, Elayne showed up.
This girl was a HOT mess. Higher than a kite, and dumb as a box of rocks. In all honesty, not attractive at all.
Anyway, Michael was trying to post her ad, but his debit card was being declined.
I feel I need to point out that at that time, adult ads on craigslist were only $5.
SO! His card was being declined for $5 transactions, he was in a nasty studio apartment, and he had the most unattractive prostitute working for him Id ever seen.
I was charged with booking for him, once he was able to scrape together $5 to place the ad.
Now, let me remind you that as a private dancer, I book my own calls. And usually they call, theyve looked at my ad, where my rate is listed, and then they are more than willing to turn over whatever information I ask so they can see me.
However, in the slum world, things are much different.
I figured, my rate is $400, so, since this is the middle of nowhere, maybe starts at $250. Seemed reasonable to me.
The first guy that called sounded like a back-alley hick. I suggested $250, and he said NO WAY! So, I said $200? He still snorted at me. Fine. How much do you have?! He said Uh, I dont do things like that
I hung up.
Michael informed me that he usually charged $125, taking half for himself.
WHAT!?! Half of $125 is like $63, and according to my calculations, hes spent EXACTLY $5 on the ad. Besides, I cant even IMAGINE seeing a guy JUST FOR A STRIPTEASE for $63...
So, he went outside to smoke, along with the cracked out gal.
I checked my e-mail on my phone, and saw the e-mail that was about to save my life,
Im 26, Im a good guy, Ive got my daughter here tonight, I can come get you, I have food and an extra bed. Eddie
At that point, I thought, WHY THE HELL NOT.
A replied, and have him then general address.
HOLY CRAP, yourein the WORST neighborhood in Dayton!
Ya think?!!?
He said hed be by in like 10 minutes. So I scrambled, packed up everything, had it by the door, and was sitting by the window.
They came back inside, and went over to the computer to check the e-mail linked to the ad.
A car pulled up (ironically enough, a Lexus) and I figured it HAD to be Eddie.
I got up, grabbed my bag, and walked out the door.
As soon as I got into Eddies car, he looked at me, sniffed, and said, Holy crap, you smell like shit!
I did. I know I did.
I profusely apologized. He smiled.
We got to his house, a cute little starter house, he walked in and instantly disappeared down a hall. I heard a beep. And then he reappeared.
I had to turn on the oven, youre probably hungry. Is pizza okay?
Are you KIDDING ME?! Pizza sounds great. Id literally gone all day without food.
He showed me to the extra bathroom, and as I was standing outside the door, he said,
Oh, hold on, let me grab you shorts and a shirt.
He came back, and said, Once your clothes are off, toss them outside the door, Ill throw them in the washer. Do you want me to wash the rest of your clothes, too?
I suppose Jaw dropped.
I got in the shower, stood under the hot water trying to think what I could do to get home, I was coming up with nothing.
Afterwards, I threw on his clothes, and joined him in the living room, pizza in hand.
So, what happened?
I explained, as since I was OUT of the dramatic situation, I was able to laugh hysterically at myself as I retold the story.
We looked up the ads online, and continued to laugh at the HORRIBLE grammar and spelling, and how just absolute ghetto the whole thing was.
Out of the blue, Eddie offered to buy me a ticket home. After some debate, I let him do it.
In the morning, I hopped on a flight, and got home. Never have I ever been so ecstatic to see Austin.
I got settled, was unpacking my bag, and heard my phone beep, indicating a text message.
From: Michael I miss U
I replied You have GOT to be insane!
He replied Y U say dat
I replied Because you tell me youre some big shot LA promoter, when in reality youre some slum pimp in FUCKING Dayton Ohio, expecting girls to fuck strangers, strangers you havent screened AT ALL for $60!! WHAT would EVER be appealing about that!?
He replied it ez $
I replied Youre psychotic. I work in Austin as a private dancer, and make the a MINIMUM $200 and hour. You cant POSSIBLY expect anyone to believe that $60 is a good deal for RISKIER work!
He never replied.
2 days later, ironically, Eddie texted me, asking me for my e-mail.
Why?
Trust me, you wanna see this.
I opened my e-mail to see an online article from Daytons newspaper. Looks like Michaels ugly girl was busted, and turned him over. He was chased by the police, but his trusty jalopy gave out on him, and he was forcibly taken into custody, help on SEVERAL promoting prostitution charges from all over the country, Los Angeles was not listed as one of those cities.
The good news is, I DID learn, and Eddie is still one of my friends, we talk often.
I know, I know, this was SO long, but I felt I needed to memorialize my stupidity from several years ago. Its funny how much you can grow in a few years.
I hoped you laughed as hard as I did!!!
When I first got down to Austin, there was a snafu with my agency.
They thought I was in Boston, so I was showing up to hotels that didnt have the right person in them.
*And yes, the dumbass who confused the words Boston and Austin has since been fired.
So I needed to make some money.
I was on Career Builder looking for legitimate employment, when I came across a job posting;
The guy owned a promotional company, out of LA, and was looking for an assistant. It appeared he posted all over the country, as it was a pretty ambiguous post. He made no distinctions on gender or age or anything, so everything seemed legit.
Besides, it was career builder, not craigslist.
I sent along my resume, it was probably 11pm, Texas time. I got a return e-mail almost immediately. That caught me off guard a little, but then I thought, well, its only 9pm in California, and Los Angeles isnt exactly a 9-5 city.
The reply didnt say much, just said to
Call Michael at 323-555-0000, hes up late. Signed Heather.
I replied that it was late, Id call tomorrow in the morning with a fresh head.
Michael will call you.
Okay, fine, whatever. Bedtime.
The next morning, my phone rang323-555-0000. Must be Michael.
I answered, and he sounded pretty normal, the job sounded pretty normal. He said he worked with models (its LA, so no big surprise there) and that he booked events for New Years and various holidays [BY THE WAY, this is in the days before Thanksgiving] at venues in Vegas, LA, and New York. The salary was $5000 a month. A little exorbitant to me, but whatever. $200 a month was more than I was making at that point.
Everything seemed legitimate.
When do you want to fly out?
I have to buy the ticket, right?
Well, yes, but youll be making money, as long as your resume isnt bullshit.
Okay, I figured I could spend my rent money on a ticket, make money, and be fine.
What airport do I need to fly into? You know, since there are a few in that whole Orange County area.
Youll need to fly into Dayton.
Dayton? Dayton California? I didnt know there was such a place.
So I said, Dayton, California?
No, Dayton Ohio.
Ohio? I thought you were in Los Angeles
He went on to explain that his mother had recently died, and he was in his house in Dayton finishing up probate stuff.
I told him that I could always wait to come out to LA, if he needed time to deal with a family death.
*My between the lines version of that was [I dont want to go to Ohio, Ill wait until you get back to LA].
He assured me it was no trouble. So I found a ticket to Dayton. I had to go to San Antonio to fly to Atlanta, to fly to Dayton. It was a nightmare. And Id only purchased a one-way ticket, because I didnt have enough for a round trip.
So, I get to Dayton at like 9pm. Its a teeny tiny hole in the wall airport.
While I was waiting for my bags, he called me,
Turn around.
And there her was.
Dressed like an ABSOLUTE hobo. He was an obese black man, wearing beat up skate shoes, raggedy jeans, and a hoodie that LOOKED like it hadnt been washed for months. He came over to hug me, and it SMELLED like it hadnt been washed in months, either.
I immediately stared to panic. I got my bag, and followed him out towards his car.
We were headed towards a brand new Lexus. Okay, maybe it was just his hoodie that was disgusting.
But we passed the Lexus, and instead, he unlocked the drivers side of a 1998 (or so) Ford Taurus that had CLEARLY seen better days.
It had Ohio tags on it, so I thought, you know, maybe it was his mothers, and hes gonna junk it or sell it or something.
*Shut up, Im hopefully stupid sometimes.
He eventually decided to let me into the car, and sometimes I wish he hadnt.
The smell inside of the car was OVERWHELMING. It smelled like a cigarette bitch slapped a rotting cheeseburger wrapper. Coupled with that; in the backseat was a dog. And a tube television. The dog was filthy, and the TV was covered in an inch or two of dust. It was gross.
I had been in the air all day (on Delta, no less, so you KNOW I wasnt fed.), so it would stand to reason that I was STARVING. I asked him if we could go somewhere to eat before they closed (you know, since most places lock up at 10). He looked at me. His face said, You have GOT to be kidding me
WHAT! San Antonio is like an hour and a half away, and I had to get there 2 hours before the flight, then I flew to Atlanta and lost an hour, and since I had to fly Delta I had to SPRINT from concourse A to concourse D jumping over people STANDING STILL on the people-movers only to arrive at the gate as they were preparing to close the doors to the jet way, then to the frozen abyss that is Dayton, Ohio. Its late, I havent had any food all day.
FEED ME!
He pulled into a truck stop. Yeah. A truck stop.
I started to think, while trying to force down my greasy grilled cheese sandwich, and trying to pretend that the chocolate milk in front of me (can you tell I was seeking comfort food?) wasnt teetering on the edge of souring;
I have to get home
And
I dont think I want to stay in his house.
So, I mentioned to him that Id had a really long day, and that Id probably sleep better if I was in a hotel.
So, he obliged, to my absolute shock. He drove me to a dumpy little hotel, and said,
Ill pick you up in the morning.
Youre not gonna pay for my room?
I dont have any money
Wait
How is this guy supposed to pay me $5,000 a month when he cant pay for a hotel that couldnt have been more than $45 for the night?!?
My heart literally sank. I started trying to try to figure out a plan, but then realized my phone was dead, so I HAD to get back to his house, if for no other reason than to charge my phone.
So, as we drive to his house, I couldnt help but notice we were driving through an industrial area.
Now, excuse my brain if she was making a sweeping generalization, but usually, neighborhoods in industrial zones arent the best neighborhoods.
And unfortunately, I was right.
We approached what appeared to be a trail park.
Upon entering the park I realized that the structures I thought were trailers werent, though they were the same dimensions.
They were, in fact, sets of 3 studio apartments. So, use your imagination. PRETTY small, right?
Right.
So, I walk in, hoping, that SOMEHOW it has Time Lord Technology (for those of you who arent cool enough to watch Dr. Who, that means; Its Bigger On The Inside) and that the one 12x12 room I was looking at wasnt IT.
So, wheres your bedroom?
He gestured to the open room with nothing but a loveseat in it.
My jaw literally gaped open.
There was no bedjust a raggedy loveseatand as an obese man, he more than occupied it.
But NEVER FEAR!! He walked over to what I assumed was a closet, and opened the door.
Out. Fell. A. Murphy. Bed.
Oh. My. God.
I plugged in my phone, and started trying to think of how in the hell I could get out here with no money, and not offending this guy. Remember, I know almost literally nothing, and the human he made him out to be was not the human he actually was.
*I thought these types of slime were confined to craigslist, and not on career builder.
Lets get down to business.
I was SERIOUSLY hoping that business didnt entail slicing my throat, fucking my corpse, and leaving my body in the industrial yards behind the studio apartment hell I found myself in.
I got the ball rolling [read-probing]. Wheres Heather?
The look on his face answered my question; There IS no Heather.
He quickly, and somehow not shockingly, he informed me that he actually ran an escort agency. [Read-hes a pimp.]
I tried to play dumb, like I dont have one foot in the sex industry, just to see how much crap hed try to feed me.
He tries to tell me that some escorting work is required on my behalf.
Jawdrop. Are you KIDDING ME?!
Wow. It would have been nice if you would have mentioned this prior to me buying a plane ticket. Because I have no desire to be a prostitute.
Well, theres really good money in it.
*Remember, Im a private stripper, and I make anywhere from $200-$400 an hour. So this was an interesting, albeit, funny, listen for me.
So he continued to go on with how upscale his clients were, and this and that
He tells me about his other girls, one of whom was coming in the morning.
So, I say that I have to call it a night, Im exhausted, and excused myself to the bathroom.
The bathroom, Im not kidding, was PROBABLY 6x6. It had a hospital/preschool style sink, where the bowl comes out of the wall, no stand, no vanity, a toilet, and a stall shower. The shower curtain was so molded, I think it was more mold than curtain. I sat down to pee, and suddenly realized there was no toilet paper.
Come on, Jen, why would there be?!
There was also no soap in the shower. So my theory about him not showering seemed correct.
So, I go back into the room (I mean, thats all I can call it) and found him laying on the loveseat, covered in a nice, thick blanket. (Remember, this is Ohio in late November). He was already asleep and snoring like a brush hog.
So I climbed onto the Murphy bed mattress, blanketless, and freezing. Then the damned dog jumped up with me. Seriously, that dog smelled like death. And the DOG snored, too.
I didnt sleep at all.
In the morning, Michael woke up, and asked me if I wanted breakfast.
I did, and he went out to get breakfast.
He returned 10 minutes later with a smashed nutri-grain bar, and a child-sized bottle of bug juice; hed CLEARLY gone to the gas station for my food. I skipped eating.
BUT, while he was getting my breakfast, genius struck. I used my phone to post an ad on craigslist. I went to the housing part, figuring, as a pimp, hed be grazing the adult sections, and I wasnt willing to do anything sexual to get home.
I posted an ad that said I had been bamboozled, and blindsided, and now found myself stuck in Dayton. I needed a clean, safe place to figure out how the hell I was gonna get home.
Of course, I got TONS of responses from creepy men who would buy me a ticket if I sucked their dick, and things of that general nature. I had one lady contact me needed a caretakerthings were looking good for good old Jen.
In the mean time, the other girl, Elayne showed up.
This girl was a HOT mess. Higher than a kite, and dumb as a box of rocks. In all honesty, not attractive at all.
Anyway, Michael was trying to post her ad, but his debit card was being declined.
I feel I need to point out that at that time, adult ads on craigslist were only $5.
SO! His card was being declined for $5 transactions, he was in a nasty studio apartment, and he had the most unattractive prostitute working for him Id ever seen.
I was charged with booking for him, once he was able to scrape together $5 to place the ad.
Now, let me remind you that as a private dancer, I book my own calls. And usually they call, theyve looked at my ad, where my rate is listed, and then they are more than willing to turn over whatever information I ask so they can see me.
However, in the slum world, things are much different.
I figured, my rate is $400, so, since this is the middle of nowhere, maybe starts at $250. Seemed reasonable to me.
The first guy that called sounded like a back-alley hick. I suggested $250, and he said NO WAY! So, I said $200? He still snorted at me. Fine. How much do you have?! He said Uh, I dont do things like that
I hung up.
Michael informed me that he usually charged $125, taking half for himself.
WHAT!?! Half of $125 is like $63, and according to my calculations, hes spent EXACTLY $5 on the ad. Besides, I cant even IMAGINE seeing a guy JUST FOR A STRIPTEASE for $63...
So, he went outside to smoke, along with the cracked out gal.
I checked my e-mail on my phone, and saw the e-mail that was about to save my life,
Im 26, Im a good guy, Ive got my daughter here tonight, I can come get you, I have food and an extra bed. Eddie
At that point, I thought, WHY THE HELL NOT.
A replied, and have him then general address.
HOLY CRAP, yourein the WORST neighborhood in Dayton!
Ya think?!!?
He said hed be by in like 10 minutes. So I scrambled, packed up everything, had it by the door, and was sitting by the window.
They came back inside, and went over to the computer to check the e-mail linked to the ad.
A car pulled up (ironically enough, a Lexus) and I figured it HAD to be Eddie.
I got up, grabbed my bag, and walked out the door.
As soon as I got into Eddies car, he looked at me, sniffed, and said, Holy crap, you smell like shit!
I did. I know I did.
I profusely apologized. He smiled.
We got to his house, a cute little starter house, he walked in and instantly disappeared down a hall. I heard a beep. And then he reappeared.
I had to turn on the oven, youre probably hungry. Is pizza okay?
Are you KIDDING ME?! Pizza sounds great. Id literally gone all day without food.
He showed me to the extra bathroom, and as I was standing outside the door, he said,
Oh, hold on, let me grab you shorts and a shirt.
He came back, and said, Once your clothes are off, toss them outside the door, Ill throw them in the washer. Do you want me to wash the rest of your clothes, too?
I suppose Jaw dropped.
I got in the shower, stood under the hot water trying to think what I could do to get home, I was coming up with nothing.
Afterwards, I threw on his clothes, and joined him in the living room, pizza in hand.
So, what happened?
I explained, as since I was OUT of the dramatic situation, I was able to laugh hysterically at myself as I retold the story.
We looked up the ads online, and continued to laugh at the HORRIBLE grammar and spelling, and how just absolute ghetto the whole thing was.
Out of the blue, Eddie offered to buy me a ticket home. After some debate, I let him do it.
In the morning, I hopped on a flight, and got home. Never have I ever been so ecstatic to see Austin.
I got settled, was unpacking my bag, and heard my phone beep, indicating a text message.
From: Michael I miss U
I replied You have GOT to be insane!
He replied Y U say dat
I replied Because you tell me youre some big shot LA promoter, when in reality youre some slum pimp in FUCKING Dayton Ohio, expecting girls to fuck strangers, strangers you havent screened AT ALL for $60!! WHAT would EVER be appealing about that!?
He replied it ez $
I replied Youre psychotic. I work in Austin as a private dancer, and make the a MINIMUM $200 and hour. You cant POSSIBLY expect anyone to believe that $60 is a good deal for RISKIER work!
He never replied.
2 days later, ironically, Eddie texted me, asking me for my e-mail.
Why?
Trust me, you wanna see this.
I opened my e-mail to see an online article from Daytons newspaper. Looks like Michaels ugly girl was busted, and turned him over. He was chased by the police, but his trusty jalopy gave out on him, and he was forcibly taken into custody, help on SEVERAL promoting prostitution charges from all over the country, Los Angeles was not listed as one of those cities.
The good news is, I DID learn, and Eddie is still one of my friends, we talk often.
I know, I know, this was SO long, but I felt I needed to memorialize my stupidity from several years ago. Its funny how much you can grow in a few years.
I hoped you laughed as hard as I did!!!
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