O Happy Day

Look who’s happy. And can you guess why? No, because I haven’t been blogging. I’ve been so busy, and focused lately. Last month’s goal was to take it easy, one day at a time. And I did, and I wish I could keep doing that forever. But, I  consciously know I am truly a mental baby, but its been waaay overdue for me to make some growth in progress. And I did! I don’t drink more than a beer at work. I work almost 4 days a week or until i reach my acceptable financial goal. (Honestly if you can’t triple a day job in less hours, get a day job). I also went to driving school, and received my license without displaying my boobs in a tight low cut top. (Seriously I wore a hoodie). Though I probably passed because I’m a hottie. Lol jokes.. Anyway, the biggest reason why I’m happy is I learned something new at church (next post). And the next biggest reason is me and Pancho are moving! The freedom to be naked all day, and take 4hr baths will soon be in effect.

Moving day this weekend, haven’t told anyone yet. Not even the douchebag we are leasing the room out of the duplex now. He will find out when our shit is gone. He pays the rent two weeks late anyway. I’m not a tidy person but as a woman the bathroom and kitchen are my sanctuary. Not that I keep either place holy, but you get what I mean. And he’s always leaving a mess in the kitchen everywhere for dayssss! You’d think it was a huge 3 day frat party every weekend, and then find out its just a 50 yr. old alcoholic Mexican addicted to Rock n Roll. I’ve seen prostitutes welcomed. And cucarachas as well. I don’t do roaches. Yes, I’m from the District of Columbia but I was raised in Maryland. Roaches only exist in school cafeterias.


I’m still with my boyfriend so this will be the first Christmas in five years that i won’t be at work or be alone. Not that being alone is a terrible thing. Being alone taught me to love myself or at least try. Every night I think to myself how blessed I am. Even when it seems like I’m not loving myself, I’m loving life. I’m writing down plans for tomorrow, next week, next month, and even five months away!

Don’t know if its the weather, but ambition is burning inside of me to do more. So I’m taking advantage of it while I can, while passion still exist. I got my first credit card this month! Hoorah for me! Now I can rent a car til I can afford my dream Range Rover. Un día, un día. I’ve been trying to obtain my license for two years. So laugh if you want but this was not any easy task. I hit a parked car the day before my test. (And yes the owner of that vehicle was informed and paid for the invisible damages).

In a few weeks, I will kidnap my boyfriend to see my place of serenity. (Kidnap because I’m driving ha ha). I’m kind of nervous because some parts of Florida are like my “spot.” Everyone has a place they go to get away from everything and everyone. There’s never a time when my mind is not thinking except at the beach. Its like my thoughts are crashed by every incoming tide. Instead of becoming frustrated, I stare at the waves, grip a fistful of sand squeeze and repeat. And repeat until my thoughts are only the sound the next wave brings. The ripples changing the rhythm of the my mood. From summertime sadness to an overall peace to loving God’s creations to gratefulness in living another day I had earlier wanted to curse. O happy day please come again tomorrow. Goodnight



Time wasted on smiles and frowns

If I can’t “save” nobody,  nobody can save me. I give up. This battle only has one end. Everyone bites the dust. Don’t dress me up.  Don’t waste any flowers. Just check a few times to make sure I’m really gone, then throw me in the ground. I don’t need a tombstone with my name on it. I never understood how someone’s name could be meaningful without a definition. Names seem like a way to take credit from the Creator. We should be named by our actions. My actions are spontaneous. I’m unpredictable to myself. I should have been named Chaos.


Sighs* I am chaos..so is the world beneath the weave extensions.
I’ve been brave. I’ve been strong.  I’ve smiled. I’ve frowned. I’ve cryed and cried. Sometimes there’s a why, most times not so often. I’ve laughed. And boy, did I scream. I know fear. I know love. I know what it’s not. I know hate. I know when it’s evilest form. I used to hate this fight. But now I don’t. Because at the end of the day, it’s the same as yours. “It’s all about smiles and frowns. That’s all you have.”

And time. So much fucking time! All this damn time, everyone’s in your face cooing, waiting for you to speak and you keep on smiling and frowning. You speak, then are told to hush. Time to learn when to speak.  So you question everything and everyone until you are scorned. After over 13 school years, you find out some answers take years to find. So you spend a pretty penny in a college education, just to find out “it’s not what you know, it’s who you know!” Does anyone calculate the cost, I mean time, Never mind- because time builds character. Character that people will treat as a weakness. So overtime you try to conjure a facade to protect yourself from worthless pieces of shit. Then you eagerly take that mask off when you fall in love, and just as quickly heartbreak has you face covered in despair. In love, out of love. In love, out of love. Repeat. Til you take time to love and “find yourself.” Then you find out your feelings run you in circles. And in time, ambition runs you farther. So you spend time focusing on your future. Maybe alone. Maybe with someone you met when you “found” yourself. Then you live your life smiling and frowning until you die. Thee end. I hate to break it to you but if you cut all the bull crap, you done just smiled and frowned your whole damn life! This philosophy was brought to you in part my psychotic brain and “Training Day.” If you thought this post was a waste of time, good. Stop reading.


I’m serious. (Extra spaces Serious.)

Leave my page with your fucking happy ass.

But hey, if your smiling like I know my nurse is, who is somewhere in a clinic taking a break from people like me, reading this right now. You know this is more than a blog. You know this post just saved my life. Well, whadda-you-know, I just saved my life.  🙂

The Naked Truth


I might be a lady but I’m never embarrassed to be naked. I actually enjoy it. I bet everyone thinks all strippers hate stripping. Stripping is the easy part for me.  I try to wait til I get some money before I take my gown off, but an amazing money day or shockingly shitty day, I stop hustling on stage and dance for myself. Today was a shitty day. Even my regulars didn’t show. It was nice out, so I can’t blame them. I didn’t use my birthday as a way to make money. I’m not a fan of pity money. If you like me, tip me.

I found out guys won’t tip me on stage because they think I’m a lady, and that it shows they don’t respect me. I’m a fucking stripper. If I wanted to get paid as a lady, I would be in a damn beauty pageant! (Which actually doesn’t sound like a bad idea.)

Anyways, I’ve recently started making silly cute faces on stage. My new approach to inviting the customer in. The seductive sexy thing seems to be coming off as bored and full of attitude. This is my last week in Pittsburgh for a few months, and my jitters and hunger for money is making me aggressive and moody at the club. I think I’m going to pick up some prn prescriptions tomorrow. I’ve never been in denial about my chemical imbalance but I never proceed in treating it until now. Its affecting my money and time is not on my side anymore. I hate drugs. Ironically, taking drugs makes me feel like I’m not normal, yet almost everyone I know takes some kind of drug. My anxiety and depression is playing ping-pong and is whipping my ass. I need to do this. At least for now…

Today I realized how ungrateful I am. I don’t value life, because I’m not choosing to take full advantage of it. I chose to be alone, and may be missing out knowing some great people. If I’m wrong and my company turn out to be idiots, I’m moving and there won’t be no long-term commitment.

So this week, I’m coming out of my comfort zone. Being truly naked is unveiling the inside. Ready or not, I’m getting naked!

Who Do I Give My Digits at the Club?


Ugh, the worst part of work is when a customer has the audacity to ask me for my # and they haven’t spent any money on me. So, you only brought enough money to get trashed, and hopefully get me drunk too. Blame it on the alcohol or your ego, whatever. Let me be clear : I’m not a wine & dine. I’m not a cheap date. When am I free? I’m never free. I’m a stripper honey, business before pleasure is my life motto. Respect the hustle.

Then there’s the obnoxious idiot who think he’s spent enough and he’s “banged” strippers before. And he’s used to paying to play (prostitution). That idiot doesnt know what hits him when I easily hand over them digits (412)867-5309. He’ll figure it out when he gets home.


So your probably thinking, surely I’ve given my number out sometime. Yes, it is true. You spend $2,000 in a week on me. Yes, please call me and let me know you are coming to see me at the club.

Gold digger? no. It is only gold digging when there lacks chemistry. Money hungry? Sometimes. If I wasn’t a dancer, I would definitely be classified as the “wifey type” aka “ride or die”, or “ride and live.” So if I see a gentleman seriously falling in love with me seriously ( like on some near sober shit), I don’t run him for broke. It’s like for a second, I get sensitive and remember when I loved being in love and how I hated being so vulnerable.. and then I look at the customer with warning eyes. Inside I’m screaming, don’t do it! Don’t be so vulnerable! I’m only a stripper! That’s all I can be to you! Then I turn them back into the hands on my more ambitious colleagues. To whom he gives all his money, once he is drunk. Smh, yea, I know. Stupid. But I let the real good ones go, I swear I’m saving myself from long-term stalker issues. My biggest stalker is in Powhatan Prison. Yes, it gets real.

If you know/met me outside the club, as long as you don’t see me in the club or sexually like me, I won’t treat you like a customer. I will give you my number, I won’t answer when I’m in hustlers mode but if you text me that your out on the strip or the Southside, and I just so happen to be out. I might grab a drink, and share a moment of catching up. I do have people who genuinely care about me. I’m not an asswhole. I’m an asshalf. I’m just so bipolar I rather be consistently alone than send mixed signals. When your bipolar you’re never alone… haha. Anyway, if you know me, thanks for understanding, much love.


Hustling takes Ambition

Im back at Blush, what can I say, um I’m a clean hustla. I play where the clean hustlas play.


Stripping is starting to bother me. I love what I do but when you don’t have a goal, you feel like wasted space. Wasted time. Wasted piece of human being. Before I continue, I am bipolar and have PTSD. I say “I am bipolar because these last few years, my disease has been running my life. I have not been able to control it to where I have and live with it.

Anyway my money from dancing goes into treating my disease. Not drugs, but small things to keep me somewhat functioning. Getting by, temporary, small, purposeless things. Instead of having a goal like going to college, or buying a house, or making a business plan, my goal is to get through the next 24 hours productively.

I feel like I’ve lost my ambition. I can’t wait to start traveling and stripping. I feel like this will make me ambitious again because I will need to make money. I miss the fire in wanting to be the best ME.

Dozing , goodnight