THE BRIAR PATCH

After I wrote my basic etiquette guide for brothel goers, I realised I'd neglected my sisters in the trenches. These are a few golden rules for inner harmony & happiness whilst working in brothel.

I've learnt most of these rules myself through bitter, hard-earnt experience:

RULE No. 1: If it works for you, fuck everyone else. Your intro is just that - YOUR INTRO;

RULE No. 2: NEVER BACK DOWN. A bully is never prepared for you to stand up to her. If you give in to one, you give in to all;

RULE No. 3: Never lend money. Yeah, they didn't make a cent & they have rent to pay, formula to buy, a habit to feed, blah blah blah. You open a vein for one, they will come from everywhere to feed;

RULE No. 4: Never tell too much about your private life. Blackmail is a horrible thing, along with vindictiveness;

RULE No. 5: Never lend your clothes, makeup or CDs, unless you're willing to give them away;

RULE No.6: A liar is just that... A pathological liar (ie., for instance thieving) will happily lie to your face without blinking an eyelid. If your instinct kicks in, TRUST YOUR GUT & DON'T GET INVOLVED;

RULE No.7: Never date a client. It will only end in tears, if not bloodshed & the wail of a police/ambulance/fire engine siren. If you have to, NEVER tell your fellow workers unless you want the world to know;

RULE No.8: Only do doubles with girls you know & trust. This goes beyond a shift or two. Remember, the whole scene will be retold in graphic detail to others WHEN YOU'RE NOT AROUND;

RULE No. 9: Don't talk about important issues or people to others in da lingo (ie., NOT English). If you're unlucky, you'll get sprung;

RULE No.10: Choose your inner circle wisely. Any allegiance or fleeting friendship with an enemy could prove to be a political catastrophe;

RULE No.11: If you're doing well & others aren't, be prepared to be accused of all sorts of scallywag behaviour in order to explain your good run. I find that the uglier (inside & out) the person, the harder it is for them to grasp concepts such as 'a winning personality' & 'charisma to burn'.

FINALLY... They ARE all out to get you. Think for yourself, & act with your own best interests in mind. Would you trust these people with your car, your money or your children? Then don't for a minute think that they would with you, either.

Don't get me wrong - 5 of my BEST friends all worked with me in a brothel. But then, so did some of my greatest enemies.

Hunting Season

As part of my continuing venture into destroying online fantasies & fairytales - after all, I'm the virtual Grinch who stole cyber Christmas - I feel compelled to disassemble the latest rumour from FIA that is currently in circulation about me.

CURRENT FIA MYTH: part of why I was banned from FIA was because I was writing my own reviews.

Oh guys... what a wicked web you've woven. One of the main beefs I have with FIA is my belief that budget end girls treated as fishbowl entertainment. We exist simply to be mocked, derided ('bogans from the wrong side of the tracks' springs to mind), & used as an example of why punters should save their pennies for higher-priced wares. A cursory glance through any of the brothel reviews was enough to get me fired up for warfare every time I read them.

Now I'm not about to go into another diatribe about THAT topic. However, it is interesting from my perspective that the 'fake review' business is being whispered, but never mentioned publicly. Why? Because it supports my FIA theory:

I'm a budget-ender (who we all know are crap, according to the FIA philosophy), so I must have FAKED my reviews. They couldn't possibly be truthful, because they contradict the sacred myth that budget end sex is not worthy. The fact that all of the reviewers were long term members of FIA, with multiple reviews, serves no purpose. It detracts from the mythology. So does the fact that if such evidence existed, it would screamed by Deejay & his band of merry men from every FIA spire.

As Deejay's rant on my thread proves, he would not hesitate for a moment to publicly denounce me if he had so-called 'evidence' to back him up (which he doesn't). However, it DOES make for a scandalous rumour, which - given anough impulsion - can hopefully (from their angle) do as much damage as fact.

I suppose I should be thankful that I'm apparently well-versed enough to write my own reviews. This is a step up from the opinion that my blogs were crap, I couldn't hold a conversation or an argument to save myself, & that I was heavily dependent on the 'wacky baccy'. I won't even bother denying any of these allegations. Why? Because it's all spiteful shit, manufactured by people who haven't even met me. However, as I said before, their opinion of me must've have risen. Now, I'm capable of putting down the bong long enough to struggle over ego stroking reviews. Tony Robbins himself would be impressed at my level of self-improvement. :P

I fully appreciate that I have detractors out there. Every story needs a villian, & as I've said before in one of my rants - I'm proud to be considered the Cruella DeVille of escort sites. However, I find it cowardly when such closet town cryers cannot approach ME directly with such a revelation. They won't even post it in a wide access forum. However, they are not satisfied with slinging this poisonous arrow at me from behind their little hedge. No, they also feel no remorse in tarring & feathering people brave enough to herald my good self with this slanderous slur.

Shouldn't my reviews be deleted if they are all lies? Shouldn't FIA be launching an investigation towards having this dreadful behaviour STOPPED if it were true??? Shouldn't heads be officially rolling? Of course they should, but they won't. Why? Because it ISN'T the truth, it has no basis in reality, & they themselves know it. It's simply a smear campaign against someone they haven't even met, because I threaten their held beliefs & intergrity.

People will believe what they want to believe. However, it is human nature to have more interest in a train wreck than a school fete. It's the destructive elements that poison, burn & ruin us, for which we hold an inner fascination. To be honest, I'm flattered that I'm considered important enough to be disassembled by the online escort site community. For a meglomaniac like myself, it's like honey to the bee. How outraged such detractors would be if they realised that they are giving me FAR more importance than I rightfully deserve! This is my Brer Rabbit moment, & FIA is my briar patch.

It is this sort of witch burning that totally repulses me about FIA: their management, their philosophy & the spirit in which it's manufactured. It's a funny old business... but it's disturbing for me when I consider what nasty, horrible people circle my wagons from time to time.

WHAT MAKES A GREAT WORKER?

A good sex worker is someone who enjoys meeting new people, varied sexual experiences & workplace flexibility. A GREAT sex worker is an expert in the art of giving him/heself to every client. They are adept at becoming the the ultimate chameleon, a receptor for every client's dreams, fantasies, desires, fears & insecurities.

There are two things that have the potential to kill off many potentailly-awesome sex workers. It's one thing to be a talented at the mechanics of sex work. However, true intimacy is more complex than that. True intimacy is more than physiology & sharing 'personal space'. It's about giving & recieiving in a way that makes all concerned feel that they have connected with another human being.

Also, the ability to handle the social impacts of this job is what separates the wheat from the chaff when it comes to longevity. From a psychological perspective, I consider it akin to compartmentalisation - my work is but one element of the entity that is MOI.

However, it's an uphill batlle trying to change the opinions of other, less enlightened individuals.

A girl I once worked with was a true natural at this job. She was very young, but gorgeous & unassuming (a rare combination). Sugary sweet, a fiery femme fatale, & a sympathetic ear... the girl had all these qualities in spades.

But alas, she came from well-to-do background & eventually gave up the biz when her cover was blown. Why? Because apparently being a prostitute is not a desirable profession. Another loss for our industry, based on age-old prejudice & a society's inherent fear of sexuality.

Perhaps if more people gave this industry the respect it deserves, a more consistent quality would prevail. Charlatans would feel less free to ride roughshod across our landscape, knowing they could be made accountable for their crappy service & attitude. There ARE quality ladies out there - I would like to think of myself as one, & I can name several with complete confidence.

However, this is the most unregulated regulated industry I have ever worked in. How do you engage a benchmark standard of practice in a realm dictated by fantasy? What is one man's elixir is another man's poison. This is why one lady may captivate one client, yet alienate another. We all desire different things in a person. That's what makes us so indulgently unique. It allows ladies of every shape, colour, creed & persuasion to set up shop, knowing that there will be somebody for their own little niche.

It's a tough gig, but somebody's gotta do it. Some do it better than others - like most things, really. :)

MY BOY - A Love Story

It all started out so innocently. He & I meant very little to each other, outside of being occasional lovers. He is nearly twelve years my junior, & hasn't yet had his eyes opened to the ways of the world. I have lived a lifetime away. The question of him being a serious contender in my life was laughable. I merely enjoyed his charisma, his big wogboy eyes, his shy smile & his considerable carnal talents.

He epitomised everything I love about the young pup - a willingness to explore, expand their sexual boundaries & eagerly fuck me stupid whenever the mood took me (which is often). It was this enthusiasm & stamina that first ensured this boy would remain a fixture in my bed. However, our enjoyment of each other was initially kept only to each other.

He came late at night, like a ninja. He would passionately own me throughout the night, waking upon a tide of fatigue only to enjoy each other again before he left in the wee hours. My children would never see him, his presence only a ghost in my bedroom for me to revel in before rising. His gentle, kind eyes would stay in my mind throughout the day. They were a buffer against the rude reality of my working existence.

Don't like my ass? I know someone who does. Think I'm too old? He doesn't care. Think I'm too smart/brunette/middle class to be of any use to you? Lucky for me, I have someone who thinks I'm just fine, thankyou. :)

But then it changed. It insidiously evolved from being a friendship into... something more. I would fret about him on the nights he wasn't with me. Has he found someone his own age? Is he getting drunk & into trouble? Does he think about me when I'm gone? Is he looking for someone else? Am I holding him back from being happy?

Then the tears & tantrums over my occupation emerged. Was I happy being used? Did it hurt me to know that it hurt him? I would explain that I could not stop working based on his whim - I had been held prey to that flight of fancy before by another, & it had bitten me hard. I had children to support, other lives to maintain. Little people depend on me, & I take that responsibility seriously.

He became lost to his jealousy, enacting out his revenge upon other hapless victims smitten by his puppy eyes & shy smile. Little do they know they were used as fodder to hurt me, in his attempt to justify his sexuality against my formidable experience. How hurtful he can be in his attempts to hurt me!

It doesn't matter to him that I have forsaken all others to be solely with him after hours. All he knows is that others enjoy me, & he feels compelled to imitate my life. Then he is filled with confusion & regret. He is unable to emotionally detach from his dalliances, like I do with my clients. He is left uncertain, not knowing if his emotions are real or just biology.

He pushes me away, not knowing if my love is true or just a lie, a whore's ruse to bleed more currency from her trick. Yet I am always there for him. I delete his number, yet my heart jumps when I recognise his texts. I promise I won't take his calls, yet I pick up on the first ring. He has my heart, & because of this I regard him with some degree of fear.

Will he destroy me again? Will he use me again? Will he hurt me again, & leave me to dust? Can I cope with that, should it happen? What would I do?

Would not working as a prostitute make him less insecure, & make us both happy?

The sad thing is - for all my bitching & whingeing - I enjoy working. I imagine many people would enjoy the privilege of being paid to have sex all day, & I'm one of them. My promiscuous nature has ended every single significant relationship I've had prior to working. Sad, but true. Subconsciously, I think my working has ensured my faithfulness.

I would be deluding myself if I said I could be happy being faithful to just one man. Deep down, my young pup knows it too. However, he is in denial & refuses to acknowledge of his fear. Instead, he obliterates it with alcohol. This results in arguments, tantrums, acting like an idiot & eventually retrieving him, chaste & bleeding, from the police drunk tank.

Recently, his genuine tears whilst cleaning his split eye in the shower disturbed me. Once, I fed on the blood of his awe. Now, I don't enjoy my power anymore. In his eyes, I'm both madonna & whore. I also have the burden of knowing that whatever happens, this relationship will be the most memorable of his life. That's not being egotistical. It's simple reality.

We have a strange, beautiful & very sad relationship. The love of this young pup has enveloped me like a mist. I have never doubted the velocity of his adoration for me (unlike others I've encountered). But the odds against us are many, & my working & our age difference only compounds it all.

I cut him out of my life once. I was determined to move on, to live a life where his face didn't dominate my thoughts & dreams. The weight of failing to live up to his expectations was crushing me. Yet, there he was at the airport when I returned back to town, waiting for me. It stopped my breath to see him at the bottom of the escalator, & from that moment he became a stain across my heart.

No one will ever have the power to make me smile like he does... or to make me cry.

I love the way he owns me when we have sex. He is the best lover I have ever had. He is the first to totally dominate me, & he is custom-made physically to fit me. I rise to his challenge with total abandon. He knows just the right moment to take my face in his hands & whisper "I love you", before all rises & falls in the beauty of him & I, together.

Yet, doubts persist...

What would I look like, attending his 23rd birthday party in a few weeks? What would his mother think of me, given that only a couple of years separate us? Have I become a parody of myself? A caricature of every lurid urban cougar tale I've ever heard? Have I become the ultimate joke?

But if we really love each other... should it matter?

DRUGS IN BROTHELS - A Grim Fairytale

Despite the inevitable tears & tantrums this entry is going to cause - start clutching those lacy hankies! - this event is of MAJOR importance to my industry, & the Canberra scene in general.

Recently, a young girl (Janine Cameron, 17) died of a heroin overdose in a Canberra brothel. To be more specific, she died in a brothel that I have actually worked in on/off for some time. Ever since, there has been an absolute furore over drugs, the sex industry, proof of age, the age of consent, how green is my cactus... I'm surprised there hasn't been a picket of Parliament House over this.

I would like to post a letter written by a WL who I admire very much. TESS RYAN is a true professional, & has been working in this industry for 11 years - both as a brothel worker & as a private WL. She has also worked as part of Canberra's SWOP (sex worker outreach project) in the capacity of sexual health adviser.

She was a young WL who went from strength-to-strength, fought the good war & didn't self-destruct. She knows her stuff, is highly educated, & a top lady. Simply put - she has her shit together. I value her opinion immensely, & cannot say enough good things about her.She is a combination of fierce intelligence, wit & charisma, wrapped in a gothic persuasion. She's like a female version of Johnny Depp!

Here is her open letter about the death of Janine Cameron:

November 11, 2008

Given that I spent eight years working in Canberra’s studios and still know many Canberra studio workers, I hope that my experience will lend me some credibility when engaging in this enormous discussion.

There is really no point in saying that I’m different because I’m independent. I worked in studios for a long time, and I enjoyed it and found it to be empowering, fun, interesting and positive. Some haven’t had that type of experience, and I acknowledge that each individual has led their own life and their experiences are valid whether they are similar to mine or not. However, to say that the only experience a person can have as a sex worker is negative, whether in a studio or elsewhere, is painting with a broad brush to your own agenda.

Of course I realise that there are people whose minds are made up, and can always find some way of justifying their own position despite any evidence to the contrary. The argument that my experiences must be different to everyone else’s is a common one, although it never seems to correlate that a negative experience also isn’t everyone’s. It’s so much more comfortable to acknowledge that which meshes with your own beliefs. Cognitive Dissonance wins again.

Sex workers who work in studios are not forced to. They can choose where they want to work and if the conditions, rules, receptionists, other workers or general environment aren’t to their liking they can go to a different one.

Some studios have strict rules, some have almost none. Some have a policy against drug or alcohol use, some take the view that it is the workers’ choice. Those who say that the sex industry in general, or the Canberra industry in particular, is ‘rife with drugs, underage girls, organised crime and violence’ are indulging in a rather twisted fantasy.

Why they are choosing to indulge in it is something that I’m not sure I want to explore, but it’s quite common for people to eagerly repeat stories of sex slavery and other sexualised violence against women with a lascivious gleam in their eye while mouthing disapproval. There are times when I can only shake my head in astonishment.

What happened with Janine Cameron is a tragedy, but it would be no less of a tragedy were she to have died elsewhere.

There are drugs all through society, at every level. Please note that when I refer to drugs I really mean drugs and alcohol. Some people use them, some don’t. Some use them for a lifetime without any negative impact, some use for a day and everything falls apart. Sometimes it ends in death, and I would hope that everyone would feel regret at that outcome.

Some people seem to think that cracking down on drug use will stop these problems. Despite the evidence that countries which have a no tolerance policy on drug use and no NSP have negative health and community outcomes.

What happens when drug users have to hide their drug use because of increased harassment? It becomes more dangerous. It increases the risk that if they overdose they won’t have anyone to help them, that they will be rushed and damage themselves while using, that they will take less time and be less careful about how they use. That can result in increases in incidents of death from overdose, Hep C infection, endocarditis and vein problems.

I applaud Simon Corbell for taking the time to get informed about the Canberra sex industry before speaking out, for meeting with sex workers to discuss the current issues, speaking with the police about their interactions with the industry, and for not jumping on the political bandwagon. He’d be much more popular if he was making uninformed statements about the industry needing to be more heavily regulated, but he didn’t take that easy route. Before any conspiracy theorists start, he is not a client of mine and I disagree with some of his past actions, but credit where it is due (sorry dexi, but I know you’ll still love me in the morning, no?).

The Canberra Times should be ashamed of that article. Their inclusion of Julie was unnecessary, not to mention irrelevant to the death of Janine Cameron, as was most of their unrelated incidents that they threw in like a dog’s breakfast. Because Julie was a sex worker her death is in some way related to the industry? How rude. Given the plethora of information floating around Canberra about that court case the Times would surely be aware that it was not. It makes such good copy though, doesn’t it?

For the feminists: please stop reading the likes of Sheila Jefferies, try some Roberta Perkins to even out the perspective.

Those who seek to control our sexuality through feminism are ignoring our right to autonomy and are in fact more insidious and damaging than the worst sexist male, who can be dismissed easily as a relic. A woman saying that the sex other women engage in should be controlled and certain types eliminated is respected as though she is somehow free from bias or cultural conditioning. It is wise to remember that feminists are subject to the same influences as everyone else in society.

I’m still not sure why people assume that regular exposure to male genitals and money would cause a reduction in intelligence, autonomy and strength of character, who knew that that the penis was so potent?

Many sex workers, myself included, are feminists but we tend to form our own opinions on the rhetoric. We could perhaps be described as some of the most radical feminists, in as far as we are distanced even from the feminist movement by those who should be our strongest supporters. Xenophobia manifests in many ways.

The well intentioned ignorant do more damage to the rights of the individual than any regime.

I know there are studies which say that sex workers experience high levels of assault, mental health issues, drug use, etc. I’ve seen them. Most of those studies tend to be from countries which have criminalised or heavily regulated industries, with few exceptions. There are often problems in their methodology including interview techniques, testing protocols, collation and statistical analyses. You should never believe everything you read in a study, you should carefully check their methodology, their critics, their publishing history, the type of journal it was published in, whether the journal is peer-review, their references, whether the study passed an ethics committee and which one, whether it was academic or privately funded and the background and qualifications of those who ran it.

Try looking at the Australian studies that show a very different picture of the industry to those cited by anti-prostitution campaigners, which show high levels of education, job satisfaction and autonomy amongst Australian sex workers. If you can go to the effort of finding the negative studies, then finding the positive ones should be just as easy. If you are confident in your assessment of the industry then you shouldn’t be afraid to look at the other side of the coin.

As for the Swedish model, everyone loves that one except the sex workers in Sweden who have to live under it.

A short excerpt from Petra Östergren, ‘Sexworkers Critique of Swedish prostitution Policy’ says:

“…sex workers in Sweden experience difficulty in finding accommodation and constantly worry about being discovered. Consequently, they are either forced to move or pay exorbitant rents. They cannot increase their level of safety by working in pairs or groups and find it difficult to have any sort of domestic or family life as they are considered to be unfit parents. Östergren writes that sex workers find the law paradoxical, illogical and discriminatory. ‘It further obstructs their work and exposes them to danger.’ The better clients have gone away but the more dangerous and perverted ones remain and when apprehended are likely to deny that they paid for sex, if indeed they have. Greater competition leads to lower prices, but this only means that women take risks and are more likely to perform acts that they would have refused previously. Sex workers feel hunted by the police and dare not report abusive customers. However, they still feel stigmatised as weak, dirty and mentally ill, or as having drug problems. Some of the sample interviewed by Östergren reported that they felt used by politicians, feminists and the media who brag and tell lies about the beneficial effect of the Swedish law in comparison with other countries. They are only listened to if they say the politically correct thing.”

More can be found here for those that are interested:
http://www.nswp.org/laws/self-sweden-20061211.html

I’m afraid that it’s true, many people choose sex work who have other options. The studies I mentioned earlier show that sex workers come from all walks of life, and that’s consistent with the range of people I have met through the industry. Does the choice of a woman without a University education have any less validity than that of those who are qualified as nurses, teachers, academics, lawyers and social workers? I tend toward the view that each individual has the right to make their own choices without needing to justify them to others, and certainly not to strangers who persist in referring to them as victims.

Some people have asked why sex workers don’t tend to discuss our work with friends and relatives (or strangers on websites), and then go on to say that we must be ashamed, and that shame is what we should be feeling. Those attitudes are precisely why people don’t discuss it. Why should we expose ourselves to such unwarranted vitriol? Is it our responsibility to have that fight every single time we meet someone new?

You can’t win an argument with an ignorant person.

There are some here (and everywhere) who won’t listen to a word I say, because they don’t want to. It’s better to remain ignorant, because ignorance is bliss, I can see that and even sympathise a little. It must make life a lot easier, god knows mine would be if I believed everything I read in the Times. Why should we publicly proclaim ourselves sex workers and then defend our choices? It just can’t stack up against evidence like ‘What some bloke down the pub told me’, ‘What I saw on A Current Affair last night’ and the all time classic ‘Everybody knows that…’.

Thank goodness there are those who are willing to listen to all points of view before forming an opinion, and who have the moral strength to reassess even their most treasured opinions whenever new information comes to light.

Several people have pointed out that I, and those other sex workers who have commented here in a positive way about the industry, do not answer questions about our personal lives, relationships and partners. When we choose not to discuss it, because it is in fact no one’s business but our own, they jump to the immediate conclusion that the real reason for not telling complete strangers everything about our personal lives must be because our relationships are flawed or non existent.

For the record, the majority of sex workers I have known have been in relationships while working. They tend to break up, make up, fight, love, have children, be romantic and all the other things involved in a relationship just as much or as little as everyone else. The only real difference is in the ‘type’ (god help us we just can’t escape the stereotyping) of partner they have. The partners are men, women, trans, het, bi, gay, young, old and every conceivable variation on human you can think of.

The one thing they aren’t though, is people who judge us for our work.

So to the whole ‘all sex work is wrong.. wrong.. WRONG’ gang, please feel free to MYOB. I don’t need your respect, I have my own.

…and that of my family, friends and coworkers.

Here, here Tess. I would also like to add something as well:

Exotic Studio WASN'T the first studio Janine had worked in. She had actually come over from ANOTHER Canberra brothel. They didn't mention that in the Canberra Times, did they? Janine also looked every one of the 22 years she claimed to be, & her story of domestic violence & being a single mum on the run from WA, blah blah blah was very convincing. Yes, they should have checked for ID but people make mistakes & some people are very good practitioners of deception.

Janine Cameron had been a heroin addict since she was 15 years old. FIFTEEN YEARS OLD!!!!!! I have every sympathy for her grieving mother & can understand her vendetta against my (still occasional) employer. However, I would like Janine's previous history to be considered a little more before a lynch mob is formed. I can't help but question the guidance & discipline (an empty word these days) that girl received from her family. After all, isn't that what active parenting is all about: to firmly guide your children into making good choices?

I know the staff & owners of this parlour very well. Whilst personalities might clash & opinions differ from time to time, these are good people who do not deserve the shit they have been smeared with. No one put a gun to that girl's head & told her to work there. No one made her use drugs. The major theme of substance rehabilitation is owning your choices. It's called exercising self responsibility, & that girl made her choices.

I love the title of Canberra Times article, "Death of Inncocence". That supposed innocence was dead before we made this girl's acquantance:

http://www.canberratimes.com.au/news/local/news/general/death-of-innocence-janin-17-lost-to-the-night/1349314.aspx

Poor little Janine (aka Little Bunny Foo Foo) was doggedly following a path of her own self destruction, long before she ended up on the doorstep of Exotic Studio. The people at Exotic were simply left with the unfortunate duty of being left to clean up the mess afterward - literally.

Kids these days....

THE ENIGMA OF ME

My ex husband once said that I was an enigma wrapped in a riddle. I consider that to be a compliment.

*dramatic sigh*

Oh, the neverending saga of being me. I tell you, the force it takes to drive this 'little engine that could' is truly exhausting. In the words of a certain nobody from another site, I'm a 'character' - yes indeedy! I would much rather be considered a fierce lunatic than a boring non entity.

The problem with assuming an online persona is that people often build an image in their heads of you that bears no semblance to reality. Alas, my legend sets me up for a fall from the the very heights it propelled me to. I attribute this to being symptomatic of online prostitution marketing. The entire realm is built on fantasy. After all, doesn't sex start in your head? This is why peddling the unattainable as achievable (a la FIA) has become so lucrative.

I revel in my attributed online persona of comic book villainess. Truly, it's the best gig I've ever had. Logging on is like a funhouse ride into ridiculousness. It amuses me to be so vehemently accused of things like despotism (meh, too much energy involved), branch stacking (which assumes I have friends who care about this trifle ) & empire building (ambition has never been my forte). I wish I really did possess some of these legendary superpowers I've been attributed as having. Do I get a cape, too?

You know what's great about being an anti-heroine? The nasty, skanky whore from hell? I get to do & say exactly how I think & feel, & people expect that of me. Hallelujah, praise the Lord! In the legendary words of Jerry Springer: insanity has it's privileges.

People build up an image in their heads of who I am in real life. I know this because of the sheer volume of people who initially book me 'just to see what I'm really like'. Um.... normal? Human? Mortal? It's like telling kids there really isn't a Santa Claus, after all. Sometimes, even just opening the door is the ultimate act of killjoy. Maybe I should invest in a Xena - Princess Warrior costume...

At home, my lover finds it hilarious to read the trials & tribulations that compose the online life of Roxy Anti-Heroine. I'm a bitch goddess to him too, but that perception is based purely in physical reality. I saw him, I wanted him, I took him, & he came along without a struggle. To him, I'm like a volcano. He is the goddess-fearing native, worshipping me from below the foothills, lest I blow up. Mt. Roxy - I like the sound of that!

Anyway, I digress. The pressure put upon me to maintain the facade of the anti-heroine can be stifling. I suspect I disappoint people often when they find out that I really am just another person. Sometimes, I would just like to be Roxy Everywoman, but I know that this is not a possibility. It's against everything I've been raised to be.

So, when all is said & done, I appreciate assume complete responsibility for my persona, both online & in real life. I have painstakingly built my online ego from scratch, & honed her into being She With The Poison Keyboard. But sometimes it helps to consider that Catwoman simply morphed one day from being a mere mortal into a villianess. She didnt't ASK for this... it just sort of happened.

My road has been too hard & too long for me to start apologising for who I am now. Furthermore, I like who I am... SO THERE! My acceptance of whom I am grants me the freedom to BE this person. My sacrifices have been numerous & my battles many, & I have learned that regret is a wasted emotion. Certain people have mocked my self confidence & treated my inner belief with derision. Yet it is I who pities them. I dont need to laugh at others in order to convince myself I'm worthy. Frankly, that's tragic.

When you think of me, just remember these words from another misunderstood comic anti-heroine, Jessica Rabbit:

"I'm not bad. I'm just drawn that way."

BITCHFEST

It's a sad day when you realise that your greatest enemy in this business is your fellow WL. Don't get me wrong - some of my best friends are WLs. But then, so are some of my greatest enemies...

Online, everything is shrouded by innuendo & presentation. I've noticed that a large percentage of private WLs who feature on escort sites are backstabbing bitches with self-esteem issues. Long ago, I realised that when you confront backstabbers directly, they feign innocence. It's sheer cowardice. Pathetic & pissweak. Thus, all confrontation turns out to be largely pointless.

Another notable thing I have discovered thanks to escort sites is that some of the private WLs have never worked in a parlour, or haven't for a LONG time. They've become accustomed to the princess treatment, & are hypersensitive to perceived criticism or competition.

I can say this with a carefree air, because such a bitch would never lower herself to read something like my blog. Why, when she could do so much better herself? Isn't she the most interesting creature God ever created?

A thought I like to amuse myself with occasionally is the idea of such a princess being reduced to work for a week in a budget-end parlour. I'm undecided as to which act would destroy the self-crowned princess first - the theft, the drugs & accompanying ODs ("oh my God! You people do drugs?"), the toe-to-toe competition, the sabotage, or the inevitable broken teeth/nose in the carpark brawl when another girl has simply had enough. That's the beauty about a parlour - everybody is equal, & some people need humility more than others.

Online though, the pampered private WL is adept at playing the damsel in distress in order to have her dirty work done. It's all very calculated - she is more than capable of looking after herself, but prefers to sit back & smile while others fight her petty wars. It all starts to look a bit pathetic the older she gets. I believe that if you're old enough to fuck for a living, you should be able to fight your battles without someone holding your hand.

The lesson here is to be VERY careful about what WLs you review. Some of them have more 'friends' (nod nod, wink wink) than others. It might pay to look for existing history, & level of ass kissing involved. You can generally tell who is more feted than others, judging by the gushing moderator input.

So, to all the whingeing bitches out there who lack the courage to face off to me... I understand. I know that I must seem very intimidating to someone who obviously has no spine, zero personality, & an overall interest factor of NIL. I'd rather be known as a fierce lunatic than a boring weakling.

To these ladies, I also offer this advice - don't post a comment, unless you're prepared to cry. If there's something more tragic than an aging blonde, it's a bimbo who tries to cross swords with someone out of their league. Don't try to understand or defeat me. It will just confuse you. I may as well be from another planet.

As it is, you have my pity.

Now FUCK OFF & pick up your own act before attacking my mine. :)