Monday, April 12, 2010

Catching Up

Oh, God. I am so fucking BORED. It is Monday night, and the south club in my home city looks like a ghost town. I am certain that at any moment, a big thistle weed is going to go rolling through the aisles, accompanied only by the sound of a lonely coyote braying from the stage. It is a serious challenge to stay awake, even when I'm dancing for the few freaks that have wandered in off the streets.

As the more perceptive amongst you will have noted, I have not been writing. I couldn't really tell you why not. Every time I might have a few minutes to sit down and vomit a few phrases onto my lap top, I sit and stare at my Mac for a few seconds, then just look away again. The desire to write has been robbed from me. I have no idea where it went, or if the complete disinterest it left in it's wake is permanent. But since at the present moment the only customer out there who is willing to do a dance just said to me, "Really? $30? And I don't even get to fuck you?", I thought that maybe I would find something to occupy my time, before I set this whore mongering mother fucker on fire.

Let's see. Since I am incredibly lazy, how bout a quick point-by-point review of everything I haven't written in the past 6ish weeks? Bur not right now, of course, because I have to get my ass onstage...

Okay! It is now like two weeks later, and I have maybe 5 minutes to write! So, um, here goes:

-Baby Momma is still criminally insane. About a month ago, she decided to quit dancing and go on welfare. She then asked Bf to let her take Baby during the day while he is at work, even during his week of custody, because hey, she might as well be with her mum, not a baby-sitter, right? Bf initially agreed, since he couldn't think of anything wrong with her suggestion. I had a serious inkling that this was a ploy for the courts, to try and make it appear as though Baby Momma has Baby full time, but has to be on welfare because Bf won't give her any money. I fucking spazzed, and refused to let Baby spend her days during OUR week of custody with her mum, instead of with me and her Nana and Nono, and thankfully, Bf was persuaded by my paranoia of what Baby Momma was up to. So, after some scary time in limbo, where Baby Momma told Bf that yes, actually, he WILL give her Baby during his week too, we are back to our normal 50/50 share.

- Baby Momma also has a new boyfriend, and is apparently ENGAGED to this guy, even though they broke up twice last week. Bf said the ring looks like the personification of those wickedly horrible Spence Diamonds commercials, The Stars Above. I snicker now every time that ad comes on the radio.

- I am going into Eating Disorder treatment at the hospital any day now. I have done a phone assessment and an orientation session, and am just waiting to hear when I will start. It's actually quite frustrating - Girl Agent's mum is dying and she needs someone to cover her phones, but I have no idea if I can or for how long. I hate having my life held in complete limbo like this. How can they not even have some IDEA? I am really trying to stay focused and optimistic about this program, though. I am thoroughly convinced that this time treatment WILL work, simply because this time around, I WANT to be there. A million years ago, during my first treatment that I had pursued and enrolled in myself, I did exceedingly well, because I wanted to be there and I gave it my all. The second time, I did not want to be there at ALL, and was therefore asked to leave after 32 days, and got drunk the moment I left the place. I am determined to make this program go as smoothly as this first one, if only so that I NEVER HAVE TO DO THIS AGAIN. I wish it could have taken the last time, though of course that treatment wasn't for eating disorders, it was for smacking myself with cocaine and oxycontin. But at least it was only two months - this one is THREE. Though, on the other hand, that one was a residential, and at this one I get to go home to Bf, Baby and Moo Moo every night, even if it is after ELEVEN FUCKING HOURS OF TREATMENT A DAY. But what the hey - I might as well try it one more time before I blow my fucking brains out.

Okay, I gotta go and get ready for work. I have a show at 2 this afternoon, for some local millionaire. My tummy is squirming anxiously. I HATE people who think they're more valuable as human beings because they have a lot more money than you do. Especially given the role in which I am going there to fulfill - a stripper. Rich people tend to view us as expendable pieces of property that they actually own for the duration of their contract, ergo we will do whatever we are fucking told to do. I fucking hate it.

At least there's another girl going.

And I have bigger boobs than her.

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