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super lazy day # far past the point of keeping track:
today i woke up bright and early at two in the afternoon, sat around in my pjs watching crap on mtv and half-heartedly masturbating out of boredom to the blur that was the tv since i had still yet to put my contacts in and take a shower. my mom came home from work and commented/bitched about how i was still in my pajamas. usually i am able to manage to at least make it look like i have been up for a while before my mom comes home from work. the fact that i was still groggy and attired in pjs and had no desire to change at all made me realize how fucking lazy i was. i thought to myself how i had no plans to do anything and so why bother getting dressed if it's already five in the afternoon.
however, my sense of shame won over my desire to be lazy and i got dressed and decided that i should go buy my family x-mas presents. that that would be my outing for the day. when i am at home in va, there are seriously days in which i don't even leave the house, sometimes stretches of days. georgie bush, you need not worry. i am america united in this time of crisis. i sit on my ass all motherfucking day, watching tv, and only take trips out of the house to buy shit. w, aren't you proud? i am the couch potato. i am the consumer. i am america. god bless.
so, being the patriotic citizen i am, i go to borders and buy my family x-mas presents. this is really bad and probably not in the x-mas spirit (however, it may have been in the american one), but i bought my family presents that i want. i figure that once they get tired of them, or even before they do if they are taking too goddamn long, i will read the books or listen to the cd's, and effectively repossess them.
after i went to borders, i checked my bank account, and i now have $1.89 to my name. this has made me realize that i need a job badly. there's this new manager at borders, and he's being totally bobo and keeps saying he has to call me back. tomorrow morning, inspired my destitute status, i'm going to call him up and be like "look dude, what time do you want me to come in?" and we'll see how well that all works (or more likely, how it does not).
after checking my bank account, i lied down on my bedroom floor and read the free gay weekly that i picked up at borders. i listened to this gram parsons album, and kept getting up to skip it back to "she" since i don't have a helpful repeat button on my stereo. i went to the classifieds/personals section right away since the personals are always my favorite part of any paper. it's all these assorted characters trying to put themselves into 50 abbreviated words or less, plus they somehow mange to verbalize what exactly they are looking for in a partner. i don't know, i always find them real fascinating to read, and sometimes sort of want to reply to the cute, funny ones, but always chicken out exclaiming, for god sakes, it's a personal, you are not so pathatic that you are going to start responding to personals. but one day, i'll be brave and reply.
however, today my attention was not so much on the personals ads as it was on the escort listings. there were pages of all these little escort listings. all of these men trying to market themselves as young boys, smooth, skinny, and all that shit. and i daydreamed about being an "escort".
listening to "she" over and over again, and planning on how once i get to ny, i am going to make a go at being a ho. i am definitly not a man, i'm much more a boy, so i figure i could advertise as young and skinny, maybe. i might have to get a little bit more in shape and lose some of my fun pudge, but i really want to do this. i feel like nikki would kill me if i was an in-call ho, but i think it would be so much fun. getting paid to meet all these weird, maybe creepy, maybe deviant people and to get it on with them and then to never talk to them again. to be in my own private idaho, so to speak. but, i have all these questions too, i kind of want to call one of these listed escorts and be like, um i have a couple of questions. i wonder how fast they would hang up. but, i wonder if the "escorts" ever have any violent/scary tricks. and i wonder how much they get paid, and i wonder if it's awkward when he's getting dressed, and oh i so want to do it. i'm going to have to check out the gay weekly in ny and see if they have lots of little escort ads.
i lay there on my back daydreaming, the next song starts, goddamn i wish i had a repeat button. get up change song back. lie back down again on my worn bedroom carpet, daydream about being a hooker for another three or so minutes before i have to get back up to switch the song again.
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