The SUPERSTUDIO–When Glamazons Attack!

Update 9:50 PM–I finally turned some money at the 11th hour.  Individual was a douchebag, but whatever–I know how to handle douchebags.
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      Just finished my first shift at Superstudio.  Dude, my initial impressions have been totally confirmed.  The last time I was around so many stunning 6-foot blondes, I WAS IN AMSTERDAM!!!

      I am dirty blonde (emphasis on dirty, hardy har har), which is not blonde enough in this business, so I’m passing myself off as auburn-haired.  Not really a lie; hair is actually reddish.

     Whatever–I’ve got a fashionably scrawny bod and no tattoos and when you meet me, I do not sound demonstrably insane.  At least one of my colleagues here is cracked.  The manager is a ferocious terror-inspiring Russian.

      I’ve fabricated my background to protect myself, taken a new name–epic compartmentalization.  Now I just have to keep my stories straight.  Juggling all this is quite a trick.  Fortunately, I have a lot of practice.  I’ve been a world-class liar since I was a little girl.  That’s one of the worst things junkie parents do to their kids, I think–make liars out of them.  It is a skill, though.  A useful talent to have.  But not conducive to good mental health.  Or relationships.  WHAT relationships, haha.

      The Surgeon is coming by tomorrow.  I have to keep him snowed.  God, why did I ever let him in my apartment…?  You know, he found out where I lived somehow–he’s never told me how–I never gave him my address.  Just a little bit longer.  And no marks–I have to keep my hide pristine. Or at least, get it there–still have a few bruises from last time. Not easy when you’re Caspar-the-Friendly-Ghost pale, terminally clumsy, and you crave to be beaten.

     No money yet.  Intense competition, different clientele, have to hide my past so it’s like I’m starting out new.  I’m not stopping till I mollify the landlord, 14-hour days, whatever it takes.  Tapdance till the shoes smoke. Note to self–MUST TACKLE BACON pronto


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