well then

Not to get too revealing, but I will just say that my 10th grade Chem teacher was arrested on child pornography charges today. So, thats interesting.

What's really sad is that he would be the 2nd teacher of mine to get arrested for that topic

My landlords won't take my money

Okay, today is February 23. March is in 6 days.My landlords have not cashed the February rent check, yet. If you are anything like me you see that you have money in your bank account and forget that its "technically" spent already. Or you don't forget and it just sits there taunting you.

And any other time that would just be annoying.  But this is the ONE MONTH that I actually have cash in my bank account (even though I don't really because the check could clear any moment, you know, when my landlords decided that they could use that extra cash...) and so when Uncle Sam poked into my records to see if  I could,  in fact, be awarded some government assistance for food, what did they see? Money. 

And what that means for me is a big old rejection letter. Awesome.

Of course its not all doom and gloom. I did sell some art:

So thats good. I have about 25 more pieces listed, so if I could just sell some more, I could actually, you know, eat and stuff.

Socially Inept.

Another foot party. Another weird, weird night.

Two different guys offer you today's reading material: The submissive and headlamp guy.

First the submissive:

This guy, he is the the king of the socially awkward. I was eating dinner and the moment I finished he was there, asking me if he might take my plate. Total gentleman, right? And he would have been, if he then didn't proceed to crawl away with it. On his hands and knees - that sort of crawling. 

Later, he comes up to me, telling me I am so beautiful, so German looking (seriously, German looking?) that we have to session. Ok, fine. So we go off to a couch and I sit down and he hands me a mirror. He apparently gets off on women looking at themselves. And then he starts licking my boots (literally!) and saying how sexy my Nazi boots were. Nazi boots?

My Boot

Hitler

Not exactly, though I'm sure the Nazis would have had a much better go of things if they had worn a cute kitten heel. 

So then he asks me to put on lipstick and I know that he likes to be humiliated. So I call him stupid and worthless and he asks me to step on his face with my boots on which I do. And then he says "you're so pretty. I bet you were popular. Just like Regina George." Thats when one of the other girls in the room (who was in a session of her own) starts creaking up. The whole time, I had been rolling my eyes and shoot her looks because this guy was just so weird, but at this point she actually loses her shit and laughs. It took me a moment - what was he talking about. And then I realize: oh my god, Regina George.

Regina George

He is actually comparing me to a imaginary 17 year old queen bee. Amazing! Then he starts this deluge of weird compliments: my skin is so pale, he wants to buy me Uggs, I look so un-American.

What, exactly, is un-American?

Oh but this next guy. I have never actually sessioned with him. I've tried all the tricks: engaging conversation, laughing at his odd jokes, pretending that I give a shit when he talks and talks and talks... No go. But he does make a point to come up to me and say hello almost every party. Usually he does and then wonders away mid-conversation. We call him headlamp guy because when he does session he puts on a miner's hat and inspects every inch of your foot. So. Strange. And this night... oh my god.

Him: Hello, Craftitute.
Me: Oh hey there.... you (I have no idea what his name is). 

Him: You know that band? They sang a song with your name in it.

Me: Yes they did. 

Him: I had a friend named Craftitute. She got pregnant at 17 and stopped being our friend because she thought she was so much better than us.

Me: Oh thats weird. 

Him: Why?

Me: Well, she was 17.... i mean, thats not a good thing...I.. er... well kids just aren't my thing.

Him: You don't want kids?!

Me: Not at all.

Him: But you've babysat before.

Me: Huh? yeah, I've babysat. Thats why I know I don't want kids, haha.

Him: Did you ever babysit boys?

Me: Yes.

Him: Babies?

Me: Yeah, less than a year.

Him: But how? You couldn't change his diaper!

Me: Um, sure I could.

Him: But he has a thingy! You would have seen it! (seriously, that statement is verbatim)

Me: Well, yeah, but he was a baby.

Him: There is this video on Youtube of a mother showing how to change a diaper.

Me: Oh yeah?

Him: Yeah, she uses her son and films what to do.

Me: Well thats a great idea. I think a lot of people might not know how to do that and could use the help.

Him: You should see the comments people leave. They think it is wrong.

Me: Why would it be wrong?

Him: Well..... she..... she lifts his thingy and cleans it!

Me: Yeah, thats what you have to do. You can't let it stay dirty.

Him: But you didn't do that when you changed diapers.

Me: Yes, I did. Thats what you have to do. They're not old enough to take care of themselves.

Him: [weird silence]

Him: You know touching the thingy of someone your own age can be kind of fun, though.

Me: [startled silence]

Him: What? [he got right in my face] what did you say?

Me: I didn't.... I didn't say anything.

Him: But it COULD be fun, if he is older, right?

Me: I... don't know?

Him: Oh never mind. You don't understand.

He walked away then and I realized "Oh my god, he was trying to ask me for I handjob, I think."

I think the system is broken

So, as you may have gathered, I'm poor. And while it is a hard notion for me to comprehend, having come from the middle class and wanting to stay firmly there thankyouverymuch, it was actually my parents who brought up the options I was ignoring. Welfare.

Even now, I feel slightly embarrassed just admitting to it. How absurd is that?! It is easier for me to admit that I provide sexual satisfaction to creepy old men for money than to admit that I applied for government assistance. This might be the first problem. Why is welfare such a dirty word? Is it merely a product of my upbringing? Is it the burden of the middle class that if you slip from that class level sex work is a better option than letting your taxes pay for assistance? What weird sort of mental blockage is that? And yet, there it is. I have told more people about the fetish club than my application for food stamps. That should not be the case.

But anyway, I did it. I applied for foodstamps. You can do it all online (at least in my state - did you know food stamps are state based? I was mistakenly under the impression that it was a federal program, but no. It is a state run system and, I assume, qualifications differ from state to state) so I did, over the course of about 90 minutes one evening.

I received a letter in the mail shortly after. It was one page long.

the letter I received from my friendly government assistance office

So go ahead and read that over. I especially enjoy the bold line at the top. "I know you're hungry right now, but you're not a migrant worker and you have more than $100 to your name, so sorry, we have to wait till we get around and review your application." Meanwhile, I went to the gym today and stepped on the scale. It had been broken the past 2 weeks, so I wasn't sure how much weight I'd lost, if any. I knew people were commenting, but who knows how that translates? I started at the scale in disbelief. A women behind me said that she wasn't sure it was working right, since it had been broken so long. I found another scale. Same number.

I've lost almost 10 pounds in 4 weeks. Any other time I would be THRILLED (oh hell, I'll admit it here, I'm still a little thrilled) but it's cheap excitement. I didn't EARN that weightloss. It isn't even that I have the willpower of an anorexic. It's just that I'm not a seasonal farm worker who doesn't qualify for food assistance. Never mind that I'm hungry.

Yes, I understand that the system can't be too easy because then it would be abused to hell. But you know something? I see a LOT of people shopping at the local Whole Foods using their foodstamp cards. I'll even go out on a limb and assume that all of those people are qualified. What I can't understand is how the hell they figured it out. I mean, I have two degrees. And I can't make heads or tails of all the documentation they are requiring from me. I don't know.

You know what else sucks? The dispute option. Even though I wouldn't have disputed (obviously, I don't fit any of those categories) the time frame given to me was over by the time I received the letter in the mail. That's pretty shitty.

I'm going to pursue this route. As my parents pointed out: "You're going to be paying for it the entire time you work, so you might as well use it when you need to."



You know, if they let me.