Had the night off work earlier this week and everyone was being lame, so I facebooked an old buddy from high school. She smokes a lot of weed now, so I figured she'd be an interesting way to spend my night. We met up at the bookstore, where I was buying The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and she was reading You'll Never Blue Ball in this Town Again. We sat in the lounge chairs, bullshitting about funny shit from the past and talking about our latest projects. She's unemployed, I stuck to the activities not formally discussed here. She offered to drive us to the cheap theater, where The Back-Up Plan was playing. That was the film we decided on after smoking two bowls and a beautiful joint in the parking lot. All supplied by her, I might add. Who doesn't love reconnecting with old friends?

I saw her again tonight after work, to smoke more weed at her place. She lives with her mother and her boyfriend, but they don't seem to mind too much on what she's up to. There was no air conditioning, so once I was flying I took off my clothes and sat on her laptop, stumbling like crazy. She was also nude, and very into an episode of Kourtney and Khloe. We got slap happy and started losing it over Holly's World. The guy on there is the most annoying person I've seen on t.v. and it was too much to handle once my brain felt like a nimbus.

After calming down a little we turned on Gaga and somehow started on the subject of sex. She was frustrated that since leaving her dumbass a few weeks earlier, she hasn't been having sex. I tried to explain how a couple weeks isn't so horrendous, but I stopped once I mentioned how much sex I have been having this summer and she looked ready to kill me. So I decided to offer up my penis instead. She agreed, responding simply with, "Sure, fuck it." Which I didn't, but I'll get to that in a second.

I started rubbing her crotch while nibbling on her neck. I was on my side, she was laying on her back, reaching a hand to grab onto my ass. I did this for a few minutes, feeling her get wetter and wetter while moaning progressively louder. She assured me her parents are alcoholics and are in a constant rem once they fall asleep so I was able to relax and concentrate. I eventually brought my left hand to take over, bringing my right up to her tits to give them some attention. Then I moved up to her neck, squeezing it gently while inserting two fingers inside of her. "I Like it Rough" had come on, so I figured I'd get in the spirit. I kept fingering her, slapped her in the face once, took the louder moan and scratching of my back as motivation to do it again. Then I grabbed one of her hands and made her start playing with herself. "Do you like that?"

"Oh my God..."

"Put your fingers inside yourself. Make it feel good."

I sucked on her nipples while she did this a little longer, then returned to wrestling. We tried to use the vibrator, but neither of us were too into it anymore. I think she came without saying anything, but I was so stoned she probably did tell me and I just didn't realize. I was asleep a few moments later.

The date with the governor made me feel like a real prostitute. Not that street walkers aren't legit, they're just always portrayed as victims in t.v. movies. If I keep it classy I have a better chance of seeing Chace Crawford portraying me on the big screen.

He texted me and told me to dress relatively nice, for he'd like to take me out. Surprise #1. I rarely, almost never get taken out. It's usually to the bedroom and out the door. He asked me what my hourly rate would be, which added to my excitement. I'm used to charging an hourly rate for sex, but to get paid to dress up and eat good food? Score. I kept it at $100 hour. This way he may keep me around a little longer.

I met him at this trendy restaurant downtown, that I've only been to once for a family event. Second surprise. I've been taken to dinner by clients before, but it was usually in the Applebee's range (no disrespect to the big A, their wings are awesome.) The bread platter, not bowl, was amazing. I would have been content with skipping the entree and instead devouring the eight variations of bruschetta all evening, but he insisted I try the tilapia special, which was also delicious.

He is a good conversationalist and it was actually a nice meal to sit through. He mostly talked about business and his different plans for a real estate company he had just started. It wasn't too fascinating, but he has a great sense of humor and kept it amusing. I asked what inspired him to open a real estate business in 2010, and he mentioned that him and a friend renovated several houses that were foreclosed and raised several property values to nearly $1 million. Who knows if it is the truth, but it sounded impressive so I decided to be naive and coo about how cool it all sounded. Key to acting interested but keeping the attention on your cock: Listen intently, compliment moderately. This way they feel they are on a real date while remember, once you make a cute comment, that they get to I was on a fancy date, gotta be polite ya know? Especially when you are getting paid.

He had gotten a hotel room down the street from the restaurant, so we went there instead of his place. He pulled out a wine list when we got to the room and asked me to select a bottle.

"I gotta drive home..."

"Stay the night?"

"Ok."

"How much?"

He had already paid for 4 hours. "Another $300."

"Sounds good." Thank God, I hate having to negotiate. He gave me the cash and the wine list. White Zinfandel. I'm not a big wine drinker, and didn't want to select the most expensive when I had just made $700.

After peeing and checking on the goods, I came back in to find the governor watching Jersey Shore. "Really?"

"Don't get me started."

"Why not?" Now this may seem cheesy when written down, but corny flirting action always does the trick. People will laugh at the silly stuff, but secretly love you for it.

I took off my shoes and sat on the edge of the bed just as Jwoww was going after The Situation with an open fist. As I started to consider a career in reality television, possibly as the lead in my own show about nights such as this, I felt hands on my shoulders and my mind immediately switched over to baby kittens dancing on clouds. Getting a massage after a couple glasses of wine is a delight everyone should indulge in. Fortunately for a call boy, it's an occasional perk.

I let him pull me onto the bed and unbutton my shirt before flipping me over and straddling my back. He worked my shoulders, went down my arms, back up to dig his thumbs into the back of my neck and then worked his way down my sides before coming back up my spine to return to my shoulders. His hands were soft, but manly, and he knew just where to put the right amount of pressure. Rough on my neck, a little lighter below it, tough on my shoulders and light on my ass...which was just annoying seeing as I am extremely ticklish. Unless you are licking it, which is what he did next. He was better at massaging, but it was ten minutes of not needing to do much so I was pleased.

There's the wine. I gulped half a glass while laying on the bed and pulled him down to kiss me before moving on.

Next was his back, which I rubbed extensively after watching him undress. He had clean feet, so I rubbed those and focused on his legs while noting tension that indicated an erection. When he started to rub himself against the bed, I turned him over and oh, he's huge. Score! I dove right in, excited for a change of measurements. I licked it up and down after sucking for a few minutes, massaging his balls and rubbing his inner thighs the whole time. He had his hands on my head and I was legitimately turned on. It was so thick. I kept choking on it, so I'd move to his balls for a minute and try again. I got used to it.

He never brought up penetration (not sure I could have done it without being passed out anyway) so we blew each other in between making out, massaging each other's bodies, and watching a bunch of idiots fist pump (I never watched the show before that night, are they actors? I'm not sure people could be that outwardly stupid....Nevermind.) I fell asleep after a final glass of wine, proud of myself for not getting hammered.

I left around 8 the next morning and he assured me he would be calling again. When I got home and counted my money and DVR'd Jersey Shore, I found myself looking forward to it.

What was that about blogging once a week? I believe I said I will write each week, which I have been doing, just not here. I can say it's been a crazy summer and be telling the truth. About a week after my previous drunken post, I woke up in the ICU all pumped with sedatives and decked out in tubes and a neck brace. I guess I fell or hit my head at the Adam Lambert concert. Maybe it had something to do with those 12 shots. Oops.

Work has been the busiest I've ever seen it. I am making a lot of money so I can't bring myself to complain. Let's just say if it weren't for that fact that the management would have chased me out a while ago. I simply can not work for junkies, or be around them for more than a few minutes. I will demand jail time before a required rehab stint.

With money from wine sales comes money from blowjobs. I always appreciate it when clients are solely interesting in giving (both cash and fellatio) because it makes me feel more fortunate for my predicament. I don't take clients that are customers from the restaurant, which has been happening more than one would expect. Am I starting to reek of call boy? I had a new customer last month ask me if I'd meet him after my shift, to which I politely declined. I didn't want to blow my cover, because who knows what management is up to at this point, but I have no room to judge, so I passed it off as if he was simply asking me on a date. One of my co-workers pointed that out, saying she would have been appalled and gotten him kicked out. Jesus, bitch. Have someone walk you to your car and take it as an excuse to smile that night.

I made an exception to the no-tricks-at-work rule this week. A very good-looking man (perhaps this is what persuaded me,) was being chatty with me inbetween a discussion he was having with a business partner. Or lover, who knows. He was asking what school I go to, what my plans are for the holiday, and actually seemed interested. This caught me off guard, since I usually respond to my customers questions regarding my personal life with bullshit lines such as, "Well, once I finish my Phd I am going to take time off and spend a year in Australia." I don't know why I say these things. It breaks up the routine, I suppose. Businessman left a generous tip, and I was walking towards the kitchen when he walked back in through the front door.

"Did you forget anything, sir?" I smiled and put some menus back on the hostess stand, unsure of where she was floating around at.

"Wanted to say thanks again," he flashed a pearly grin and held out his hand. I shook it, and he stared a moment before walking away. It's so badass when people manage to give a sexy stare without doing it for too long and looking creepy.

He left another twenty in my hand along with a note. Let's hang out. I'll take care of ya. I ask again, do I simply carry the essence of a male prostitute? This stuff does not just happen to people other than Vivian. And she had a vagina...along with Richard Gere.

He also wrote his number in the note so I waited a couple of days to call him. If I am already presenting myself as a hooker, I might as well work on not looking like a desperate hooker. This empty time frame allowed me to gaze up from The Ghost Writer and imagine my life going in a brand new direction come autumn. Would I be able to ditch college and the restaurant and take off to New York City with my new client? He'd put me up in a Manhattan high-rise and only call to alert of dinners and business trips and to see how my staff was treating me. I'd mingle with the elite and immerse myself in a crowd of artists, birthing my persona as a performer and independent model of street art. As I would start to make a name for myself, suspicions regarding my personal life would arise and people would begin to talk. I'd come clean, my lover would be exposed and I would find out he was actually the governor and one year later I'd have a bestseller and a spot on The View.

I'm sober, if you were wondering. And my date with the governor is later at 7.

Just popping in to say hello. Is anyone out there? I am spinning after a wonderful night at the club. Partially on the dance floor, partly in the back of the bar smoking weed and shooting lemon drops. The weather is perfection and everyone had good energy. I didn't see a fight break out, though if there was one I would have been too drunk to notice. Happy vibes regardless of my ignorant inebriation.

I stressed in the daylight so I was practically chasing nightfall since morning. What is going to happen next? Have I just been wasting my time? I'm 19 and a child, you say, so this blog is laughable. Are you even reading it? Is anyone?

The guy from the comedy club is right. My arm hair is pretty out of control.

There's this young man from the westside who I run into occasionally. His name is Will, or something. It's usually when I make my rounds at the gay clubs, but tonight it was at the diner that I go to when it feels as though potatoes are really the only thing I can depend on.

He came to sit with me while my friend Z was in the bathroom. I asked him how life has been and he might as well have just said boring because that's all I got out of it. When I started to wonder if Z had passed out, another young man approached our booth and asked if we like to party.

"Got what I need for the night. Thanks, pal." I dug into my hash browns that had just arrived.

"My dude over there made seven figures last year." I look to the table. A man on the verge of his forties was seated with a guy half his age. "We're having a hot tub party and he wants you guys to come." The idiot across from me looks overly flattered. "Are you guys gay?"

"Sometimes." The waitress forgot my milkshake.

The dude goes off about something while I am trying not to blackout before finishing my meal. I come to to hear Will say, "Well, I am an escort!"

"Do you know any girls that could come over with you?"

"Well-"

"Will, stop talking." I put down my fork. "We are already running late for a gang bang. Maybe another time."

The kid said something rude and stormed away.

"What the fuck?" Will's pitch went up a notch.

"I'm not down with human trafficking. And you are not an escort."

"I just had a client last night."

"You suck dick when you're tight on cash and screwed your teacher from high school a few times. Your story would bore a room full of homos. Plus, you still have your day job." Will rambled about something else for a minute while I asked the waitress for my milkshake and Z finally returned. "What the fuck were you doing?"

"I met someone!"

I braced myself for this story after Will took off and I got my strawberry goodness. I then wondered if I qualify for an escort. Like Will, I have a second source of income and really only have an occasional schedule setup with clients. I don't think it's possible to make a living off of the job in my area, and I'm not sure I would want to. Well, hm...

I'm thinking of taking a trip to New York City. I just went to Daytona and should be saving money but being on the move is much more inspiring than staying holed up here. I am not sure what kind of inspiration I am looking for, I just know that I am bored.

There is a Republican that seems to be interested in your dear blogger. He's gay. I know, what a concept, right? He admires Bill O'Reilly and Glenn Beck for their "fairness." Interesting, though I wonder what's fair about supporting someone who doesn't believe you should have the right to marry who you want. He's also a Palin fan, which I don't even understand anymore. Anyway, he's very nice but I don't think it's going to go anywhere. I am not insanely attracted to him and am not sure I am ready to come home to a penis every night. I mean, a world without boobies?

I'd be nailing a guy and, forgetting the anatomical structure of a male, I'd reach around for a breast and in a state of confusion, start patting around like I was feeling under a table for an 0ld piece of gum. "Where is your-Oh, right. (flop) We're finished here."

Hours of porn viewing may have attributed to my inability to take joy in a gay relationship. If the guy's penis isn't up to my par with my own and above, it's not going in my mouth. Would you rather suck on a popsicle the size of your pinky finger or Peter North's member? Exactly. I'm just saying, a mouthful allows for more creativity. And if you're not willing to suck it, the chances of a healthy relationship with a gay guy are slim. At least from what I've gathered.

I'm probably more capable of taking on a gay partner than I think. If the dude is entertaining and witty without being one-dimensional it could probably totally work out. A lot of men I come across are just rather, well, boring. I'm looking for a lover that could pique my interest for more than fifteen minutes...without paying for it.

Perhaps I should start fucking Mel.

Did I make it a new year's resolution to write more? Apparently not. I need to make it a point to, because it always makes me feel good to write. Not sure why this is, but how about a mid-year goal to write more often? Twice a week? Eh, may not happen. Let's start with once. I will pop by here once a week to entertain an audience that is sitting somewhere in the future, waiting to be delighted by my wit.

I've read many blogs where I couldn't stop thinking, "Wow, this person really enjoys themselves." It is easy to become narcissistic when talking about oneself regularly. Isn't that narcissism to begin with? Not necessarily, but I am already unsure about my abilities as a writer, so trying to avoid coming across as pompous adds an extra challenge in trying to motivate myself.

The subject of my blog makes it tricky in trying to promote it. I'll leave comments on other blogs, partly in an attempt to lure traffic, but I often wonder if I am offending anyone by merely providing a link to my blog. I talk about sex rather unhibitedly (what fun is it otherwise?) and I accept that if people open the page and see that my posts aren't their cup of tea then they will simply close out. However, I'm not sure everyone else will look at it the same way. Not a concern, just a thought.

Two finals tomorrow and my first year of college is complete. What's next? Who fucking knows. For now, a blog post.