Fuck it

Today is the day before Thanksgiving and people won't shut the fuck up about World of Warcraft. When did that expansion come out? It was last week, right? So why are people still going on about it-- ugh.
But praise be to Allah that there's this blog.
From a Texan, no less.
I fucking hate Texas. If a Texas-shaped meteor hit Texas, ignoring for a moment the fact that the impact would destroy most of the solar system, the world would be better off.
Seriously, name one good thing that came from Texas.
See? You can't do it.
I'd say "give it back to the Mexicans," but to be honest I'm not sure they'd want it back. I know I wouldn't.

When my membership expired at the Bikram Yoga studio in north Austin where I’ve been practicing for the past year, I decided to take advantage of the *newcomer special* at my old studio, located further west.

What is Bikram Yoga?
Just kidding I don't care. To me Yoga is code for "I'm too much of a huge faggot to take Tai Chi." Tai Chi is for men. It may seem like it's for old men (because the kind they teach in America is) but real Tai Chi is basically Kung Fu times a million.
At least that's what the movie "Twin Warriors" starring Jet Li taught me. I'm not really sure if that's true or not but goddamn.

The 90 minute classes at both studios are identical in that we do the same 26 postures and 2 breathing exercises every day.

Imagine that. Yoga is the same no matter where you are.

But I grew to like and trust most of the instructors to the point I even felt comfortable showing them my blog and being open about my job as a stripper, which they totally *get* and have always been really casual about.

I think I have an appropriate reaction to this hold on.
This update suddenly became incredibly awesome.

I’ve also grown to really enjoy the students I see every day, one of them in particular, a 54 year old woman with the body, face, and spirit of a much younger person, really lit up my mornings with her humor and our rapport.

This has to be the most eloquent stripper ever. I cannot believe this shit.
Usually I just read straight through but for the sake of intrigue I'm going to click the "stripper" tag because that's what I want to know about.

They say life isn’t a destination but a journey.

That's very true (not really).

His fiancée just divorced British royalty, so god only knows what my ex's and her combined million$ amount to now, but suffice it to say their *journey* will be first class all the way.

No wonder he didn't want to meet you again. Fuck some stripper in Austin he has money to spend.

Meanwhile I can’t afford a decent gynocologist visit or the mamograms I'm supposed to be getting, not to mention a facial or massage, much less the extensive nip/tucks I’m quite sure his flawless beauty has already had.

What can I say? I roll the dice and usually come up with furry #15, but sometimes I hit the lottery and find the one that writes itself. The reason I reacted to "stripper" is not because hurrr stripper but because I knew from the get go this would be filled with incredibly awesome stories that she probably shouldn't be telling everyone within earshot.

I’ll age as gracefully as possible while hunched over my laptop, typing out my blood, sweat and tears, for years and years to come, while also competing with younger and younger strip club beauties for the privilege of grinding 3 days a week on the laps of various horny strangers, fending off their wandering hands and misbehaved tongues and ridiculous invitations, while Mr. & Mrs. Fabulously Wealthy travel the world in the utmost luxury, dripping in diamonds, dining on caviar, and making love in the most elaborate suites of the finest hotels on the planet.

When I had to come up with a title for my blog it was between "Edie Finds a Corpse" and this paragraph right here. Longest title in history I understand, but still I think it has a certain ring to it. "I'll Age As Gracefully As Possible..." or IAGPWHOLTOMBSTYYCWACWYAYSCBPG3DWLVHSFWHMTRIWMMFWTWULDDDCMLMESFHP for short.

I know I’m full of self-pity here. And that it’s actually part of my journey to get over these bitter feelings… to be forced to suck it up as I watch this painful, heart-wrenching in-flight horror movie of their relationship...

It probably goes without saying, but when someone says "I know I'm..." and then they continue to go on, it doesn't actually validate their bitching. No one wants to hear this shit. "I know I'm full of self-pity here" so why are you posting it? Also this is the third sentence I've caught that I could so easily take out of context that it isn't even worth doing because derp derp.

I’ve spent more time flat on my back lately than I care to remember and since I’m currently, completely, celibate (as opposed to partially?) that’s not nearly as fun as it sounds.

Maybe strippers have a different definition of "celebate" than I but it's either on or its off.

So during my last (3rd) song, a gorgeous, brunette dancer whom I’ve never met, approaches me on stage.

Little known fact but you don't actually need a comma between "gorgeous" and "brunette" because brunette is functioning as a color in this case and you don't need a comma between one adjective and one color word.
Just pointing it out.

“Are those real?!” she asks, beaming with genuine curiosity and not a trace of typical stripper-competitiveness.

This cannot be real.

Later on I complimented her on her choice of stage music (Danzig!). She thanks me then mentions that one of my nipples has popped free of my favorite red bra. I’m pre-menstrual and in the middle of a week of swollen *Special Boob Days* which means they barely fit into any of my bras and are also probably at least part of the reason she was so impressed by them in the first place.

I was looking through my folder of reaction pictures but I'm not really sure what I should be feeling here.
After much thinking on the subject I've decided this face is always appropriate:

I also need an occasional spinal adjustment to ensure I don’t miss any work, not to mention averting the potential tragedy that some sad, lonely, ex-preacher or recent divorcé be denied the extra-special holiday comfort that is my Amazing Bosom… like a warm-hearted TV special, titled, A Miracle on 34 C’s.

I like you, stripper from Texas. You even have your accent marks in the right place.

The metal padlock on my front door has a brand name etched into the outside face plate.

Yeah? What does it say? If it's Defiant or Faultless you might as well not even bother.

look down to slide in my key and every single time misread the word FAULTLESS as FRUITLESS.

Don't even fucking bother. Any idiot with a torsion spring and a pick could be through in five seconds.
”Is there any chance we can meet outside of here so I can watch you masturbate?”
Suddenly my previous comments about kung fu seem more appropriate. Why wouldn't you learn some version of "I can punch you and your head explodes" with this line of work? Meanwhile Wonder Stripper here is taking Yoga thinking it does fuck all for this creep who will bury her under his porch.

“Ya know I think we may live near each other,” he continues.

Holy shit he really will bury you under his porch watch out.

This ain’t my first rodeo. I’ve been around the block enough times to make an entire Cirque du Soleil troupe dizzy.

I was about to say "please work another cliche into this" but I'm not sure the second one is a cliche. I'm not even sure it makes sense-- why would a Cirque du Soleil troupe get dizzy by you-- I don't know.

It’s working its magic as I experience the skin outbreaks that come from the release of 41 years of stored toxins and excess testosterone, not to mention the occasional bursts of repressed anger also known to be stored in one’s liver.

41 year old stripper.
So that's where anger is stored. I thought it was a chemical reaction in the brain but I'm not taking Bikram Yoga.

Or maybe I just related to her, in this strange duality I still sometimes feel about my desire to be of service with my desire to sometimes smack some sense into the world.

What.
A duality is a division of two mutally exclusive or contradictory groups. You could serve by forcing it to make sense. It is, therefore, not a duality at all.

It's magnificent really. Like some profound & esoteric, color-coded, heavenly message from the almighty god of gum... saying what, I do not know. Anyone?

All right, stripper. I said I liked you earlier but now that's starting to wear thin.
Actually I'm starting to get a headache. Something about "profound and esoteric" is starting to grind my shit.
Fuck it. There's your Wednesday update.