No, You Don't Know Everything

It's true I'd readily admit to being a misanthrope, it's not a secret. I'm not a "people" person, but I'm able to be cordial to most people when needed. There are certain types of people, however, that I just cannot tolerate at all. One of those types is the "know-it-all" person. I truly want to kill these people.

Look, I don't claim to know everything...shit, I barely know anything. It's really not possible for one person to know everything about everything, so the know-it-all type is particularly annoying. These are the people who try to "one-up" you no matter what you say and ramble on and on about a particular subject just to show off their knowledge. If you make a statement about anything, they manage to find something incorrect about what you said and make a correction of sort, just to make you look stupid or something. I suppose it's some sort of superiority/inferiority complex that they have that causes them to do this, but it the end it just makes them unpleasant to be around.

This weekend I had to spent a considerable amount of time around not one, but two, know-it-all types on Saturday and Sunday respectively. In both cases the K-I-A was a hanger-on of a friend of mine that I had plans with, forcing me to spend time with them despite all their ramblings and corrections. Yes, it was truly a case of "hell is other people."

On Saturday, I had planned to interview a friend for her work with Pit Bull rescue and her K-I-A/Gigantic Asshole boyfriend was with her, randomly creating conversation with me while she was off doing other things. He had knowledge of my work shooting and casting porn so he felt that could share these pearls of advice with me...

"If you're looking to cast some broads for your porn shoots, you should go over to the trailer parks. I know this one broad who lives in the trailer park down the road...she's hotter than any model you've ever seen, you'd be amazed. And with these trailer park broads, all you have to do is show them an 8-ball and they'll do anything you want."

After hours of listening to this guy interrupt his girlfriend's conversations with me, demand to be taken shopping at Cabela's, here, there, and everywhere, I was ready to lose it. This guy had nothing positive to say...ever. He was just a heap of negative energy that drained the life out of everyone who had to share the same room as him. Needless to say, I won't be taking his trailer park advice.

As if that wasn't enough, today I went on a shopping excursion with a friend of mine and a friend of hers from school. The school friend seemed nice enough, but as soon I started in on any topic of conversation, the corrections and one-ups kicked in. For example-

Me: "Oh it's a beautiful day outside. I think it's supposed to be 40 degrees today."

Friend: "No, that's tomorrow. it's just freezing today, tomorrow it's supposed to be 40."

Truth: Today's high was 40, tomorrow will be 46.

Next we were talking about flea markets and I mentioned the history of Maxwell Street, which their college is located near. I told them how the Maxwell Market has been moved several times due to the gentrification of the neighborhood and how it's being re-located once again a few streets over from the location where it's at now, Canal Street.

Friend: "Oh, you know where the Jamba juice and Caribou Coffee is over by University Village, that's where all these guys use to peddle junk years ago in a flea market."

Yes, I explained to her. That's what I was just talking about...did she not hear me or did she just pretend not to hear me? So here's this person who's not only not a Chicago native, but not even a native of the United States trying to tell me, a lifelong Chicago native, that she knows more about Maxwell Street than me. I may not know everything or even claim that I do, but I do know my hometown. Better than you.


It's funny because my best and longest standing client is a know-it-all type. He calls every week, looking to see a new girl and in his sessions he babbles on and on revealing all his self-proclaimed knowledge about various subjects until his face turns blue. He especially loves to gossip about his knowledge of various Chicago escort services, the girls who work for them and all the information he knows about who runs them, etc. He's a serial "one-upper" who's friendly enough, but mostly irritating to a severe degree. He calls me every week (or more) and wants the girls that see him to pretend that they're his actual girlfriend when he introduces them to his roommate.

In addition to his short stature and small penis, I sometime wonder if he'd have better luck getting an actual girlfriend if he wasn't such a K-I-A. After awhile listening to a guy who thinks he has to be an authority on every subject humanly possible can really be more than a little disconcerting. If someone is really that insecure about themselves that they have to make those around them feel lesser by overstepping them at every move, then maybe they don't deserve to be surrounded by people at all. Hence, having to pay for companionship.

So I may not not everything, but I do know one thing, nobody likes a know-it-all.

If you are one, please stop. There's no way that you can know everything so stop pretending like you do.

I've Joined the MacWorld

Yes, for the first time I am typing my blog on my brand-spankin'new iMac and damn, it's amazing. The screen is a massive 20 inches and all those little pictures at the bottom of my screen scream out at me with a what seem like limitless possibilities.

As yawn-worthy as it may seem like to most of you, this is a huge deal for me. The computer I was using up until today was 9 years old, had 258MB of RAM and ran on Windows ME. There was nothing I could do on it. I couldn't even use my new digital camera with it. The keyboard was encrusted with nine years of dinner and drinks spilled all over. When we picked up the monitor to move it off the desk, layers of dust and crap were lingering underneath. Let's just say, I'm not totally diligent about caring for my electronics. This computer, an HP Pavilion, was a complete embarrassment.

Thanks to a car accident I had a few years ago, I came into a little bit of money and knew my priority was to update my system. I need to do a lot of video editing, so I know I was going the Mac route...there's just no other alternative. I've bee salivating over people's Macs for years...out in public, in private, wherever. If you were privileged to own one of these incredible machines, I wanted to be you. I'm not kidding. Other than price, I just don't understand why anyone would buy a PC. Most of them don't even have a firewire port, for chrissakes!

My desk now has a new look, which involves a lot less clutter. Since the new iMacs are basically just a monitor and keyboard, I now have a lot more open space on my desk, surely to add more crap to. Or at least to put my dinner at night. Still, this giant monitor is basically SCREAMING out at me adding a lot more light to my space in which I usually have little. I light my apartment with Christmas lights and little else at night, using the light from my computer to see. I now have a lot more of it.

Other than my car and sound equipment, I'd say this is the biggest purchase I've made in quite some time. Considering I go through cars like Drew Barrymore goes through men, I expect it to last a lot longer.

Caught In A Trap

I have several friends in the industry that enjoy going on "travel jobs" with clients, where they accompany the client on an out-of-town trip and get to see some city or corner of the world, all expenses paid plus a daily fee. It seems like a great perk for a sex worker, right? Not for me.

A longtime regular client of mine offered me a trip to Memphis this past weekend, where he is staying on a job. I met this client several years back when he was working on a job here in Chicago and he saw me every week for almost an entire year. I'd traveled with him once before to Las Vegas, a city I hated so much that it almost sent me into a panic attack. The trip didn't go too well and we argued several times, mainly because I was irritated about having to spend nearly every moment with this man, who I was mortified to be seen with. Even though it was Vegas, it was like everyone knew exactly what was going on. I eventually found a way to ditch him and spent hours in back of the casino playing the penny slots, which I later found out was where the hookers hang out. Guess I shoulda known.

I don't travel well. I'm a bit of a homebody and when I'm trapped having to play "Andrea" for 36 hours straight, I can get cranky. Traveling with a client is different from traveling for pleasure...you are essentially working 24/7 until the trip's over. This is the way I feel about it. Having some middle-aged man trail around with you all day and night calling you by your pseudonym while the public stares at you with that "what are you two doing together look?" really works my nerves. I do most of my work in private and like it that way. I honestly don't want to be seen in public with most of these people.

Nevertheless, this time around he'd been begging me to come visit him in Memphis for a weekend, so I figured since January is slow, I'd take him up on the offer. I'd always wanted to see Graceland anyway, so this was my chance to go, get it over with, and make some money. I flew out on Friday and he picked me up at the airport and hit Beale Street, the nightlife district of Memphis where the jazz and blues clubs are. We had some authentic Cajun food at BB King's restaurant and then walked up and down the street browsing shops and eventually settling at a bar which had a great blues band playing. That feeling of being "out of place" started to subside in me and I tried to enjoy myself, but was secretly wishing I was with some of my actual friends whom I'd be having a much better time with.

Then my memory began to recollect what I already knew, but had somewhat forgotten. This guy was a raging alcoholic. A functioning alcoholic maybe, but for every drink I had, he ordered two, and didn't even want to eat a meal until he had several drinks in him. He became more and more annoying as he got drunk and started to touch me from time to time, so I tried to move away from him. By the time it came for us to leave and go back to the hotel, he was too intoxicated to drive and couldn't figure out his way back. We asked some nice guys on the street for directions and the one looked at me and said, "you're driving, right?" I guess so. Just another hat for me to wear-designated driver. I'm pretty used to it by now. I have to drive my friends in Chicago everywhere.

So we begin driving around Memphis, getting lost and going the wrong direction every which way. He keeps apologizing, but the sound of his voice is like nails on a blackboard to me at this point and we stop off in gas stations in dangerous neighborhoods, getting incorrect directions that lead us to nowhere. Memphis is not exactly the safest town and I'm just hoping I can make it back to the hotel safely so I can at least see Graceland. Thankfully, we do.

It's pouring rain on Saturday but there's only one plan of action for the day and that's to see Elvis' house. We head over there and get tickets for the full tour which includes several museums, Elvis' planes, and of course, the Graceland house tour. The Christmas decorations are still up and they're totally old school, including a giant nativity scene and flying reindeer's that say "Merry Christmas to all!" There's an audio tour that allows you to view the house at your own pace, but he continues to follow me around, not leaving a room until I catch up to him and prompting me to speed up while I dawdle at certain exhibits. I tell him to go ahead of me or just ignore him.

I was suprised at the size of the actual house. It really is no larger than your average two story house in the suburbs, but the way it's decorated is truly what makes it special. It's like walking into a time warp from the 70's and everything has been kept in pristine condition over the years. My favorite room was the "jungle room' which had wall-to-ceiling green carpeting , fuzzy shag furniture, a wet bar, and a functioning waterfall in the corner. It was decorated for Christmas with a tree and even had some of the gifts Lisa Marie presumably got when she was a child. Another favorite was the "pool room" in the basement with was decorated with brightly colored slightly tacky 70's style fabric that covers the entire room. It was a sight to see!

The property is fairly large and includes a horse stable (they still have horses but none were out), a racquetball court, small pool, and the meditation garden where Elvis and his parents are buried. Fans were putting out birthday cakes and wreaths for his birthday on January 8, including one lady who baked a three tier cake that she was posing with. There's also a museum with all his cars, including his pink Cadillac, his actual jumbo jet that has gold-plated sinks and belt buckles, and a collection of his jumpsuits, which were pretty magnificent, to say the least. I would encourage everyone to go if they are ever in Memphis, it really is worth it.




Unfortunately, there isn't much else to do in Memphis, so we struggled to find a restaurant to go to that night, as he doesn't really go out anywhere there except for the same ole' places, night after night. I was ready to get on a place and head home that night, but I had to stick it out and pretend I was having a good time every time he asked me, which was like every five minutes.

Of course we ended up at a bar that night and I pretended to be interested in the football game while he ordered Fuzzy Navels with double shots of vodka, leaving the waitress bewildered on how to even charge someone for that. We struggled to make conversation, but mostly I was done by this point and was secretly chanting "there's no place like home, there's not place like home" inside my head. After he drank about five of these overloaded cocktails, we retreated back to the hotel, but it was still early, so he wanted to have some more drinks at the hotel bar. This time around we ended up drinking some blue concoction that was similar to a Long Island Iced Tea. After the third drink, I started to feel sick, but he ordered another round and I began to realize how pathetic his life must be. At one point he started crying about his father's death and I tried to console him or at least change the subject, but he's really in his own world. I have a lot of friends who drink, but this guy blows them all away.

My flight was scheduled for 5:30 Pm on Sunday, but I was determined to get out of there as soon as I could. There was nothing left to do there and my blood was boiling just having to be around this person for any additional length of time. i found an earlier flight and asked him to drive me to the airport so i could fly standby, nixing our planned breakfast trip to the Waffle House. Oh well. Still, we had unfinished business. i demanded my compensation for the weekend and he acted all flustered, actually believing that I came to visit him out of the kindness of my heart. He said he thought "i wanted to come visit Memphis", as if the plane tickets and meals (all of which he charged on his corporate credit card, which his company pays for) were enough. Yeah right. He opened his wallet and counted some bills and I corrected him... "no, you better go to the ATM," I demanded.

Then the bottom dropped out. he said he didn't have enough money in his bank account and could only give me a "couple hundred" now and would have to Paypal me the rest later. This is a guy that drops $1000 a day gambling in Vegas and he doesn't have enough money to pay me until his next check? It surely isn't the alcohol he's buying because his employer seems to be paying all that, in addition to his living and travel expenses. I reminded him that I have friends that get paid $1000 a day to travel with clients so he needs to wake up and realize what the deal is here. I ain't doin' this shit for the hell of it.

The nice thing about regulars is that they're your bread and butter...you need them in this business or it's hard to stay afloat. The bad thing about them is that sometimes after you've seen them for so long, they get the idea in their heads that you'll see them without charging them anymore, because they get it in their heads that you actually like them. It's kind of a sad thing, but it's happened to me on a few occasions. Apparently, that was the case here.

Now all I can do is wait, but after this, I'm done. No more out-of-town trips with clients, no overnights, nothing. I'm staying here in Chicago and people can come visit me if they want to see me. It's funny, but whenever I leave here and visit another city in the US, I realize how lucky I am to live here. Cigarettes may cost $7.00, the people are rude, the traffic is congested, the construction in everywhere, the gas prices are inflated, and the weather is sometimes freezing, but I can't think of anywhere else I'd want to be. We have so much here that it's easy to to forget about until just a few days somewhere else makes me realize where my heart is-

A Year of Giving

New Year's Eve tends to be one of those holidays where I struggle to find something fun to do and find that most of my friends are unwilling to leave the house or don't have many ideas or options in mind. It's an overhyped and overpriced holiday that seems ridiculous to be a holiday at all. After all, it's just the first day of the year.

However, this year was different. I attended the "Synphoria" New Year's party and had an absolute blast. Synphoria parties/gatherings happen once a month at the home of a local DJ and his wife and are their way of building a community of positive, like-minded people. Though I wouldn't call myself a spiritual person, these parties involve a great deal of spirituality, but mostly feature fun stuff like dancing, great food, and creative performances. Everyone is friendly and people are encouraged to introduce themselves to everyone and anyone and start a conversation. They really are unlike any other party I've been to...and I usually hate parties. I couldn't think of anywhere else I wanted to be on New Year's Eve.

I admit I took a tablet of ecstasy, the only drug I truly enjoy nowadays, but at one point I was listening to the hostess, Emily, give a sermon and I got to thinking about the idea of giving. One of the things I enjoy about being a sex worker is that I am doing a form of healing work that involves spreading positive energy to another person. However short or long a period I spend with a client, he is usually happy and satisfied at the end of our session, as am I. While we may each be satisfied for different reasons, it's the same result. This rewarding exchange is why I feel sex work is such an enhancement to my life.

The idea that sex workers are so hated, so maligned, in this world seems so wrong since all we are doing is bringing tenderness, love, and joy to people's lives. The people who seek out our services are coming to us because they are lacking something in their lives...and are willing to pay to fill that void. We are considered immoral, yet it is men who come to us. People call us dirty, yet we are cleaner than the average citizen. The negativity that is showered upon those in the sex industry is insurmountable compared to the sheer positivity we bring to those of our clients.

Why is this?

I feel like I gave a lot over the past year. I helped out a lot of friends, family, and clients, but I didn't feel like I received a lot in return. Though it may be selfish of me to say that, I feel like I give too much at times and in the end, it hurts me. About a year ago, I became friends with a younger girl in the industry and tried to help her through her mental issues, boyfriend problems, and her insecurities about herself and her place in the industry. She let me down in a big way. I trusted her to be responsible and she breached that trust, making me wonder why I even help people at all. Yet still, I continue to reach out and help people because I know that positivity will someday make its way back to me. I hope.

So for this new year, I want to encourage everyone to re-think about the way they view sex workers and try spreading some of the love, just like we do. We're for lovin', not hatin', and once you come to terms with that, you'll realize why this business is such a necessity in life.