Post Traumatic Whore Syndrome

Woke up to ‘Drop it on Me’ by Ricky martin, this morning. It’s kind of set the mood for the day. ‘Drop it on ME’ are the only four words, i understand in the whole entire song, as i have some random spanishy version on my ipod. I danced around to it, whilst i laid in bed and decorated the unknown words with sexy, ‘like i know what i’m saying’ faces. It was fun. I ROCK!

Anyway, i couldn’t sleep at all last night. I stayed awake, staring at my ceiling, with adrenaline pulsating through me. This went on for a good 2 hours, until my body seemed to thankfully wear itself out. (Bodies are good like that.) It finally ran out of juice and conked out, sending me to the Sandman. I’m so excited right now, that i’m having to pinch myself to believe my luckiness. I’m SO grateful, yet along with a handful of gratefullness, is a delicious side of ‘ I can’t possibly sleep now.’ Woo-hoo!! I ‘happy danced’, all night.  I think, life is good, if you just want it to be good. The sucky part, is that you DO have to work your arse off. Yet, in the end it’s all worth it. Jason Wood, this casting director i know in LA, use to always say, it’s like being a gymnast. You’re standing tall, you run, you end up doing some ‘roly -poly’ swizzley air thing, and then you land. (To anyone following the ‘gymnast’ rule…the ‘roly poly’ air thing lasts YEARS and you should add in a few cocktails, a few beatings, a couple one night stands, a whole lot of will power, maybe a drug addiction, lots of luck, two fake smiles and a dash of ‘oh HELL NO’s!! You may even land on your arse, but honestly…..yeah, you’ll lose a few points, but at least you bloody landed!!)

I just (this second) got a flash back of me piggy backing a Drag Queen. It’s like post traumatic whore syndrome! How i got a drag queen to piggy back me around Santa monica Blvd in West Hollyood, just for fun AMAZES me? I’m like legendary!! I think it was my birthday? I remember the streets being decorated like the Moulin Rouge and i was stuffing a street made hotdog, in my face. My drunk friend Jesse, kept asking my Queen of Drag to show him, her ‘Poo-naa,’ due to her butchness. Infact, she kind of got obsessed with the piggy backing, and wouldn’t put me down. I got really upset and started putting licked Skittles in her hair!  In the end, a security guard had to literally peel me off her and gently place me back in V.I.P. Her wig was falling off and everything. I think she was just lonely, and needed the company. Unfortnately, it was ME, and i just so happened to be attached to HER BACK! I turned 20-something, with my front smelling of Drag Queen. It was all pretty downhill from there really.

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