Right after I wrote the last blog entry, I decided I *had* to do a CL post.  Even if I wasn’t horny.  You know how there are things in life you might not always *want* to do but you know you *must* do?  Like going on a diet, for instance.  Or vacuuming the carpet.  Being a prostitute requires a lot of legwork, too, if you know what’s good for you.  In the pre-historic days I guess I’d have to walk the streets of the Tenderloin to hawk my goods.  But thanks to CL all I have to do is post an ad!

I reposted an old ad.  It was the first time I reposted a previously written and published ad.  I figure it was a compromise of sorts: even though I wasn’t feeling particularly energetic to work (or to even write), the ad allowed me to “put myself out there” and put forth a good sell with minimal efforts.  Nevertheless, I don’t want reposting to be a common habit as I think writing exciting new ads is part of what keeps people interested.  I was pleasantly surprised when the reposted ad attracted a respectable number of responses.  They reaffirm my assessment that it was a well written ad, one worthy of republication.  

My effort hit the jackpot when  two of my regulars replied.  Oh, I do love my regulars.  I really try to treat them well.  I don’t know if I could have gone through with any business at all that night if it weren’t for the two regulars who responded.  I love sex and all but it’s so much easier having sex with guys whom I’ve established a comforting familiarity with.  I’ll write about the sex part in a later blog.

It was still relatively early for a Friday night when I was done with my second date.  Some friends had asked me to go out for cocktails in the Castro.  I felt like I should go out but didn’t have the energy (the second date was a lite bondage-fantasy scenario involving ropes, duct tape, bandages, blind folds — and lemme tell you: tying up someone in multiple positions while in high heels and then fucking them is one heck of a cardio/resistance-training exercise.  It will wear you out!) 

As I was pondering my options for the night, my roommate Reuben came into my room.  You got any weed, he asks me.  He has to kill time while waiting for his beans to cook on the stove.  (Seriously, how Mexican can you be –   cooking BEANS at 10:30 pm on a Friday night?) 

While he smoked, I went into the bathroom to remove my makeup.  When I came out, he’s got the hood of his hoodie up over his head and the circular string pulled tight around his face.  He looked like an eskimo trying to stay warm in the tundra.

Damn, is it that cold? I ask him.

Turns out he’s watching 28 Weeks Later on TV.  Reuben loves the British actor who plays the dad.  I’ve seen this movie before and it is a VERY INTENSE and VERY SCARY horror movie. 

I need my burka, he says.  It’s my security blanket. 

Hey, you want to go out to Toad Hall for a drink, I ask him.  One look at his droopy eyelids tells me that the pot lethargy has hit him hard.  He’s shriveling into his hoodie.  Pretty soon he’ll start to snore.

You better not go to sleep, I tell him. 

STONER ETHICS 101: you can’t smoke someone else’s weed and then go to sleep without entertaining your provider.

Now I’m more determined than ever to go out. 

Hey, Ziggy is out and about tonight, I tell Reuben.   He’ll probably share a couple lines of coke with you if you buy him a drink.  [DISCLAIMER: I do not have coke or hookups for coke.  Please do not ask me.  Seriously.  I will report you to the SFPD myself]

The problem is that both of our noses are so stuffed from allergies that snorting coke is not an option.  The allergy season seems especially potent this year.  I don’t remember suffering this much last year.   To be able to sleep an entire night while breathing through both nostrils seems like a luxury from another lifetime.  My mouth is so parched from being used as a breathing apparatus during the night that the dryness wakes me up.  I feel like I need to swallow Vaseline Intensive Care the next morning.

I resign myself to a night at home with Reuben.  I smoke a little 420.  We watch the rest of 28 Weeks Later.  I fumble with opening a Zyrtec.  *By the way, can I just say how fucking annoying the individually packaged Zyrtec pills are?  What is the deal with all the hard plastic — and why the extra empty pocket?  Why all that packaging for one pill and why is it so hard to open?

Reuben is rubbing his eyes raw because they’re so itchy.  I keep sneezing (loud, earth-shaking ,very un-ladylike sneezes).  And we’re passing the Walgreens Anefrin Nasal Spray back and forth like dope fiends.  Suddenly, I had a very inspiring, really OH MY GOSH stoner moment of profoundly deep thought:

We need to inject Lindsay Lohan with hay fever… and every other upper repiratory allergy.  All the time.  And. she. will. NEVER. be. a. coke. addict. again.

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Tags: life