Hello sir, can I offer you a lap dance?

As the governator wisely expressed; “I’ll be back.” And today, I share a similar predicament; I impulsively purchased a ticket to….LA! As in, Louisiana! Err, kidding.

Problem being is that my brother is planning to move out of his cozy West Hollywood apartment, and thus I can no longer leech off of him. (“leech” is a rather misleading term. Our relationship is entirely symbiotic; he pays and I provide awesome company. I sometimes sweep the floor, too).

But spending the summer in LA means I have to resort to WORKING for a living. Full-fucking-time. Well, without the fucking. Obviously.

On second thought…Sunset is within walking distance. But it’s too damn competitive. The “chicks” on Sunset are superbly well equipped (big boobies, bigger penises). Although, not always prepared- on many an occasion, a he-she outside of the Sunset 7-11 will inquire about “borrowing” a condom ( my generosity knows no bounds; I let the mister/miss “keep it” )

Speaking of he-she’s reminds me of my favorite Rachel-Ida memory. One day, when finals are a thing of the past, I shall reminisce. But meanwhile, its back to put-call parity.

PS. Oleg thinks I can totally make it as a stripper:

“why not strip clubs? you'd make tons more money. Chip n’ dales refuses to hire me, otherwise i'd be working there”

I have my doubts (and a mirror reflection). But, my fragile ego appreciated the stroking. Well done, Oleg. Well done.