Mar 22 2012
I wrote an article three or four months ago about how I couldn’t find a job. I’m depressed and disappointed to admit that I still haven’t been given the opportunity to even get a have-a-boss-step-on-my-head-and-pee-in-my-cranial-orifices type of jobby-job, and that’s not ‘cause I haven’t been looking. I have tried off and on, kind of.
My subway massage business was a failure. I gave a few good massages and a broad even gave me a twenty for a 15-minute neck and foot massage, but one weird lady got freaked out about my sign, which read “Mr. Pleasure’s Portable Massage Parlor—I Demand Your Satisfaction!” A friendly officer working the 4 train lectured me and suggested I cut it out. He predicted it was only a matter of time before some crazy lady asked me to touch her tender only to change her tune and claim I finger-humped her holiest hole. Last thing I want to do is go upstate with a subway “Forcible Fondling” charge. Truthfully, I only had five customers over a six or seven hour span, and for the record, I was 110 percent professional the whole time. The anonymous massage is a dream job to me.
As for my other career goals, things didn’t really pan out too golden… No one even wants to talk to me, so my dream of embarking on a life coach career never really manifested. The gyms all dissed the shit out of me maybe ‘cause they all do background checks, so I couldn’t become a proper personal trainer. I’m too creepy-looking to work in restaurants, I reckon—plus, the powerful halitosis is a major turnoff to the customers.
My most recent job application suggests I may be well on my way to prostituting myself. This was the disclaimer at the end of the questionnaire: “Bonerable Models is not exclusively in the adult/porn industry. We work within the entire male model business, which can include adult sexy work for interested & qualified men who need money. If you wish to be considered for adult oriented work, just select 'Yes' below.” My girlfriend said, “just do it,” so I did it, and now she’s heated ‘cause the agency wants to do round 2 of the application process which is to interview me with the web cam, get more body shots—quite possibly I’ll become the next Little Anal Whore…
My whole life I’ve gravitated toward the filthiest porn available with dreams of writing for it, acting in it, and eventually casting the smutty butt puppies as the finishing touch on my illustrious career. The torpedo torpedoing toward that life dream might be too hot and hard to halt now. Regardless of how this man-exploiting company decides to use me, I will continue to hold my head high and remember the dismal place I came from and how I deserve to be treated like a piece of meat. Prison can really humble a cracker…
What choice do I have? When you google my real name, a few articles describe me as a “drug trafficker” back in ‘04 or ‘06, which to me is kinda unfair, ‘cause it’s been a long time and I was just a low-level drug dealer—but life ain’t fair. I’d venture that I’ve applied to 40 places in six months and not a stinkin’ one is throwin’ me a bone, maybe ‘cause they’re searching me and not liking what they see. I do not dig it at all.
Maybe it’s the long hair and moustache thing I’m doin’ now, or maybe I somehow exude a scummy prison essence that I can’t seem to shake. That aura should complement sleazy porn nicely. The unfortunate fact that I’m in my 30s, and more or less a waste of space, is why I don’t secure lots of these jobs. They’re looking for mid-20s or younger. I’m an outcast wandering through the ugly realities of the suburban New York job market. I don’t think any of these places I apply to even know what a Skidmore degree is (what, you think I don’t have a degree?) and they probably don’t care ‘cause I’m an ex-con with sweaty hands. I turned all that tuition money into a worthless turdball. That really gets my spirits down. I coulda bought a fancy motor-boat and a few Vietnamese wives with all that dough. Lucky for me, I just got my “benefits” extended for six more months (too easily), so I can continue to suck the sweet sugary nipple of Lady Liberty thanks to all the charitable tax-payers. It’s living, I guess.
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