independent prostitute

I'm listening to Nickelback and eating a hamburger, celebrating the acquisition of my very own 'puter! Actually, it's the same computer I've been using the whole time (my younger brother's computer) but he came home with his laptop so this one became my very own. Now when I move out I'll be able to stay on-line (paying for web connection can't be that expensive, can it???) which is awesome. The funny thing is I don't have a desk. The monitor is on a bookshelf and the 'puter is down on the floor right next to the shelf and I have a wireless keyboard and mouse. What this means is I sit on my bed, put the keyboard on my lap and put the mouse on top of a composition book (I don't have a mousepad). I got headphones since I don't haave a speaker and still listen to LaunchCast, which is the best on-line radio out there because you can rate music. Hah, I guess I'm acting as a free advertisement for them now.

LAUNCHcast: music that listens to you!!!

I'm done being a billboard for now... I guess I'll talk about what's on my mind, that being DUMPING GREG. Out of every $200 I make, $150 of it (sometimes more, but never less) goes in Greg's pocket. Now, I understand that if he's driving me around all day then I have to pay for gas. I'm totally ok with that. But he's literally living off me, like Micheal used to. I pay for his gas, his meals, his pot, his ice for his cooler, he walks away with hundreds in his pocket for his bills- meanwhile I go home empty-handed having to be careful not to run through my meager supply of dope too quickly. I can't take it anymore. It's not worth it, even with the fact that he drives me around everywhere. I mean compared to Greg, a taxi to take me wherever I wanted wouldn't cost me shit. I mean, this is money that I'm having to suck dirty cock to get. I really don't like parting with it at all, especially when I'm seemingly getting nothing in return. He's not working, collecting unemployment, nothing. He's collecting on me, and that's it. It's his fucking turn to go walk in the 90 degree weather at noon for the privelege of sucking some nasty Mexican's dick for fifty measly dollars. And he works me HARD- I've been crying, too hot and tired to work at all and he says to me "make that hundred baby!" Not that I see any of that hundred. Last week he "splurged" on me so that I could buy a new cellphone (the cheapest one in the store) but that's only cause he likes being able to call me at every second while I'm working. I mean if he can't constantly check up on me, I could be doing something unspeakable like pulling over at Rich and Angela's house with twenty bucks to split a rock real quick. God forbid I rest for a second, God forbid I enjoy myself. I need to be out there on Dixie motherfucking Highway making him money. I can't take it no more! The thing is, I love him to death which is why I was so willing to accept that I was being ripped off. But I can't tell if he really loves me, or is it just the cash, blowjobs, and free meals that keeps him coming back? Oh, and with how good I treat him, he STILL gets to be the boss and order me around. I'm not allowed to whine or complain or say no to anything he says. "Give me that money, honey" "Wear this skirt" "You can't have a shot until 2pm" What the hell is going on? Why do I let ANYBODY pimp me like that? Who the fuck is he? Even Micheal didn't treat me like that! I started out an independent prostitute ((pimpless, for lack of an actual word that described my situation)) and dammit, that's what I'm gonna be. I just gotta do some downsizing in Michelle's Blowjobs Inc.

Oh totally off the topic- I'm listening to "Ol' Red" by Blake Shelton- the best country song in the world.