Coming Out Of The Closet
Behold a milestone: my latest piece in the Guardian is the first time I, while wearing my professional-writer's hat, discuss the scandalously fun way I paid for college.
As I said in my phone-sex story, "Behold the grandeur of the twins." I daresay my former career has something to do with why I look so much younger than I am; the good thing about spending your youth hanging upside-down from a stripper pole is that when things start to sag, they sag up.
On a more serious note: the piece discusses the (unaccountably controversial) notion in Superfreakonomics that the supply-and-demand laws which apply to every other economic endeavor apply to prostitution and sex work as well. I'd write something witty and pithy here, but I'm still waiting for my coffee to kick in.
As I said in my phone-sex story, "Behold the grandeur of the twins." I daresay my former career has something to do with why I look so much younger than I am; the good thing about spending your youth hanging upside-down from a stripper pole is that when things start to sag, they sag up.
On a more serious note: the piece discusses the (unaccountably controversial) notion in Superfreakonomics that the supply-and-demand laws which apply to every other economic endeavor apply to prostitution and sex work as well. I'd write something witty and pithy here, but I'm still waiting for my coffee to kick in.
posted by Jennifer Abel at 1:07 PM
11 Comments:
The economic engine that will make Earth-orbit space travel profitable will be health spa space stations promoting the youth enhancing properties of zero gee on mammary glands.
As a recently married man, I will now stop any brewing fantasies before I embarrass myself.
I still say knowing how to impersonate Mussolini makes me a better libertarian.
I'll bet you were hell on the monkey bars and the jungle gym when you were a child.
You have a good point, Jen. Err...two good points.
Not to cast aspersions on any of Jen's talents, or question her fiercly independant streak, but she does an impressive Pol Pot impression when she brings me my evening martini, and watching her channel Stalin while cleaning the toilet gets me every time...
He's lying. I will occasionally bring him a beer but I've never cleaned a toilet in my life; every so often I'll pour bleach into the tank, and figure that's sufficient.
but I've never cleaned a toilet in my life
I have - one learns all kinds of things having been brought up by my mother's generation - and if one doesn't, Uncle Sam's Navy is more than happy to rectify one's education in such matters. I'll say this: I'd rather clean a toilet than some drunken officer's vomit out of a sink. Shitty diapers aren't much fun either.
A child's shitty diapers, I meant - fortunately I haven't had to do those of any adults...yet.
I can't believe I didn't know you were writing for the Guardian. I have got to get my head out of the sand more often.
Yes, Bob, pull it out! (Double entendre for the win!)
How is Xio doing,by the way? Please drop me an e-mail; my damnfool self lost your address.
Will do. I'll fill you in on the newest.
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