KACHING CHING

ARGH I love money. I love the security and the freedom.
This job buys me so much freedom. I can afford to be lazy. I marvel at the fact that I don’t have to haul my ass up every morning for measly pay. I can sit around all day thinking about my next type of security.
The future is a scary, I don’t know what’s in store. I look back on my life sometimes, and map out the jobs and occupations I have been, and how far I’ve come. Money had been a struggle growing up. I really wanted to get a job as soon as I was legal. I worked at Dominos for my first job, that was alright. Then I was at Mcdonalds, which was horrible. But when you’re a kid, you feel grown up and independent for earning your own money. No matter how shit the job and pay is.

After I turned 18 I became a stripper (you could read all about that in my other blog). Then I became a pimp. The highlight of pimping was giggling at the lovestruck email/messages, and perverted requests from sexually frustrated men that wanted to get their dick wet. Telling people I’m a pimp was the coolest shit ever. But at the end of the day, it was just a mundane office job. In this case, an agency. I didn’t even get to keep the money the girls handed me! That’s what a true pimp does right? I was simply a ‘connector’. Connecting the girls to their clients.
The REAL pimp was keeping an eye on things while doing lines of the coke around the office. We also have a madam keeping an eye on things, whilst liaising with one of her boyfriends.
Being envious of what my fellow hoes were making, and seeing how most of them piss away every dollar they make… I was pissed. I was pissed that I could be making what they’re making, and be putting away a shitload! Taken the plunge I did, and haven’t looked back since.

I can buy nice things I’ve dreamed of since I was a kid. Like my cute little laptop.
Decked in pink and plastered in girly stickers (I love anything that’s pink and adolescent. Yeah never want to grow up).
Back when I was 10, I discovered the internet after my bro bought a computer. The internet was such a fucking exciting thing! I’d spend hours chatting and trolling randoms on Chat Avenue until my brother would kick me off. Then I'd go and make myself a paper laptop and start typing away to my imaginary internet friends. If my 10 year old self could see me now..
I was a wannabe ‘scene kid’ in the Myspace era that adored Jeffree Star, Audrey Kitching and dreamt of having pink hair. Now I take a $300 trip to the hair dressers to maintain my pink mane. I also think it’s really wild that professional & serious businessmen are willing to see a pink haired hooker. I took a gamble when I got into the game (the escorting business) that no one was going to take me seriously, and wouldn’t survive long in the business. Especially when you’re advertised as a ‘High Class Escort’. Surprisingly it turned out.
I guess I don’t have many things I want to have. I own a few designer labels that was gifted to me, and those are nice but that’s not what gets me going. I’m more of a Vans and Doc Martens type that likes to roll around in dirt while on a psychedelic journey.