Keep your shirt on, Randi.

Fox news had a piece about a young lady in New York, Randi, that was laid off from Morgan Stanley and had chosen to work as a dancer until she found another job. Maybe she decided to dance instead of finding another job. Whatever. She was very articulate, which will be to her benefit. She said all the right things, which will make her more money than her tits and ass will. I wish her luck. I hope she’s been good to her angels.

In my experience, I knew a total of three (3) girls that were both educated, and able to keep their head while dancing. I traveled, so I knew a lot of girls. One was in her early 30’s with a degree in the ‘ologies. The other was a trained dietician, around 26 years old, and a total tomboy. The third and final one was married secretly. None of them drank at work, which is the key reason they were able to maintain themselves, in and out of the club. These girls truly kept their persona separate from their essence. The hundreds of other women I met, including myself, were exactly what you’d expect. If they possessed any intelligence they drank it away on a nightly basis. The stigma, drugs, and marginal living easily consumes.

Am I a hypocrite? Possibly. I don't mean to suggest that dancer or patron is doing anything immoral, in my opinion. I believe both parties are being equally exploited. I just remember back to a time when there were lines I said I would never cross, and how heart-breaking it was, for myself and others, as those lines became blurred by a lack of vision in my own future.

Imagine! These church ladies would
stare at you if
you laughed and hopped around.

But one gets out!
a muffled...hmmm.
and your face blows up with red.

Look at their wrinkled mouths.
You yell, "fatso!"
and watch their eyes roll like pennies on the ground.

Like a virgin.

I had a little too much wine last night, and I woke up this morning with a blog. I also made a meatloaf, so my kitchen is a disaster. Someone get me an Alka Seltzer.

The first thing I should probably do is set up a sort of manifesto. Make my campaign promises.

I promise:
I will use a lot of swear words. There will be blood, boogers and bile. There will be drinking and maybe even some violence. This is how I live my life. I'm just starting nursing school, so there's guaranteed to be some interesting things ahead. Rectal exam, anyone?
I'm also a tender person, deep down. I'm nice to kids and old people. I cry easily. So, there will be some of that too. It will be like when you bawled your eyes out because your dog died, and someone reminded you of the time she was stung by a bee and her face was all swollen. She looked really funny. The moment you are crying and laughing with snot shooting out of your face. That's what this place is all about!

Finally, I will be completely honest. Brutally, make-it-stop-mommy honest. You know how they say you can't change until you hit rock-bottom? Well, I've been there. I'm writing this on my ascent. Once you've been to the bottom there's not too many things that are taboo. And there is ZERO room for judgement.

After that, I can't promise anything.

So, welcome.