She Thinks She's So Fisticated

I am here sitting here trying to figure out what to write about. I feel like writing something but what?..So, I look in my books of tricks (haha, but really, I do have a book that I write things down in, in abbreviated form...random one liners that remind me of certain things...) and nothing jumps out at me. Mainly because what I have written lately has been pretty "adult" and I don't feel like making that a constant theme. Because it wasn't all like that. A lot of what I have written in my "book" are just one sentence experiences that for some reason have stayed with me and for whatever other reason I feel they might be of interest to someone else.

As I am writing this I have come to the decision that rather than try to tell a story this time, I will just quote myself from the book of tricks and then explain what each one means. There will be no special order, no theme per se, just random happenings that I feel like recognizing in the public forum that is the world wide web. Notes that I will highlight in bold and I will type them up exactly how they appear in my book. I may only get to mention a few of 'em, but if I/we enjoy ourselves here, now, then I may do a post like this again.

He has "no one to care about, which is what makes a good con man" from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey, in reference to McMurphy (said/thought by Chief, from whose point of view the book was written). - I have had that book on my book shelf forever, got it at Value Village I think, and since I know the book is always better than the movie, I wanted to read it. Eventually I got around to it about 5 months ago and when I read the above phrase I was like "YEAH, EXACTLY". Total description of the mentality of an addict, a guiltless con man.

picture of me holding $20 - It may not seem like a big deal to anyone else but one time, when I was super ill (as in dope sick) I was approached by this young-ish guy that asked me if he paid me 20 bucks could he take some pictures of me. I have done this before, it is easy money, they usually want to be quick, they don't want me to touch them and don't need to touch me, they just want to see my boobs or whatever. (Of course there WAS that one guy that wanted pics of me and an English cucumber......-am I joking? Maybe? Maybe not? Let's say yes, for dignity's sake)

Anyways, this guy approached me, wanted some pics. No problem, I said. We went into some random alley and he asked me if I would pull down my pants and lift up my shirt. I said "yes", of course. Is this a big deal? It wasn't to me. It isn't like I had any plans to be a politician or anything, so the picture leaking out was not a huge concern. Plus, try to understand, I was at the point where I couldn't even visualize myself ever getting "out" of the life I was living. So contemplating the repercussions or consequences of anything was null and void. I put myself in danger daily, multiple times a day, so no big deal. You may think "why is she writing about a f*cking picture, who cares?". I get that, the thing IS, com-padres, is that he had me pull down my pants, pull up my shirt and HOLD THE 4 FIVE DOLLAR BILLS THAT HE PAID ME TO DO IT. Basically just showing that all it took was a measly $20 for me to show him and his camera, myself..face, nakedness, nothingness and all. I don't know know why I mention it, all I know is, when I think back, I feel pretty stupid about it. Yeah, it was cheap.

still looking in windows - All this means is that for a looong time after I had quit working the street I would catch myself looking to see who was driving vehicles. When you work the street seeing and making eye contact with the driver of any particular vehicle was very important because anyone/everyone was an opportunity to make money. Plus, you could never know if it was the last "cruise" around the block that a guy was making. It was a hard habit to break, in fact my ex used to bitch me out for the longest time whenever I would do it. But I got so used to doing it that it was normal for me. I don't do it anymore.

Franco stroke - beating/deaf, Chrissy stroke - shooting meth - this refers to this guy Franco that I used to know. He was your average junkie, nice guy just f*cked up and addicted to crack. I guess he ripped off the wrong guy or something and ended up getting seriously sh*t kicked by someone and had a stroke as a result. The stroke left him like 90% deaf and brain damaged. He went from the hospital back to Main and Hastings and was a different person after it. He was still using but he was like a child after the whole ordeal. Didn't really ever really understand what was going on...he was a shell of what he once was. Chrissy was this girl I knew that was so beautiful even though she was using and she banged some super strong gibb one time and had a stroke. She was was 26 at the time. Scary. She was basically fine after but still...

David and dry humping - I had this date named David. He paid really sh*tty but all he ever wanted was to rent a room and would lie on top of me with his clothes on and dry hump me so hard that it was almost painful. He always had razor stubble and it burned my face. He would do this for a good 20 minutes then put on a condom and give one good push into me and would finish. He always talked about how he was planning on giving me more money but for some reason never got the promotion he kept telling me about...

I will share more another day, this is enough for now. And if anyone is wondering, these days I am doing great. In fact I just received word last week that I've been chosen as a recipient of a small scholarship that is rewarded to women that have triumphed through adversity. I had to write a personal essay and all this other stuff, so it was quite the process to even apply, but they have decided to give it to ME. ME. I have worked my ass of to try to make up for lost time and it feels really good to have this happen. Really good. So yeah, I am almost happy?? Yes, I am.

So You Say You Want to Have a Threesome....

I promised a long time ago that I would write a post about one of the "couple" dates that I did. Couple as in more than one person yes, but more importantly, couple, as in girlfriend/boyfriend. It happens out there, rather than put an ad on craigslist or whatever they decide to go straight to the professionals. Because that is exactly what we were....

Actually, here is a tip...girls on the street that are selling sex on the low track usually have drug problems so if you are looking for a female that is going to get into what you are proposing, this is the WRONG type of girl for the job. "We" want to get in and get out, asap. No, we aren't enjoying ourselves..mentally we will not be "present", so give it up. We want the money not your feeble attempts at casual experimentation. Don't get me wrong, I can act like whoever you want just don't ask me to have an orgasm..because I won't, can't, and will fake badly at the best of times. I mean, I HAVE had orgasms on rare occasions but never (or almost never) when it is required. And if you must get one of these type girls for your escapade at least have her get drugs for herself first. Then and only then will she (I) participate more than marginally and even then there is no guarantee.

In my own person experience I found that one of the 2 persons in a bf/gf combination is usually more into it than the other, so from the outset the whole idea of a threesome is sort of unfair. And it is usually him that is more into than her. That is just from my point of view.

Setting: Nighttime, Hastings and Gore.

A motorcycle pulls up along side of the street where I am about to score my dope. On the motorcycle is two leather clad individuals, one male one female. They are of average age, average appearance. She approaches me and asks me if I will accompany her to their apartment which is in the big apt building right at Main and Hastings (which is perfect because it is local, very local). "They" (HIM) want to have a threesome and want my services in completing their sexual ring of desire.

ME: Fine, but I was just about to score, can I do that first?

HER: No, we are both in recovery, so no drugs.

ME: (heavily disappointed but somewhat consoled by the fact that we are near the red zone anyways, so within minutes of finishing my "work" with them, I will be inhaling/injecting the necessary intoxicants) Sigh, F I N E.

It is common knowledge that anytime there is more than one person present during the date or if more than one person wants servicing it can be dangerous. You can be occupied doing something and then the other "party" can attack you when you are least expecting it and or you can be easily overpowered... But to counter that thought, more than one means double the money. It is like the whole 2 birds with one stone scenario. The risk is worth the payoff.

He takes off on the bike to park it and she and I walk the one block to their building and we all go inside together. If it wasn't already obvious to me, it was more so obvious that he was more into it than her as soon as we got there. He wanted to waste no time, wanted to jump in, pronto, stat.

I only wanted to know what exactly I was being paid for. I understood that I was to be a third to their usual twosome but I needed to be clear on how they wanted me to behave. See, as I mentioned above...a person could hire me for whatever but it has to be understood that I am merely playing a role. I can ACT like I am a willing participant but things can get tricky. Like this situation..he tells me to "get into it, have fun...." and all this other crap. I am like "um, no, I can't do that" since I was there for THEM not for me. It is as people don't understand this part of the "date dynamic". I would not be there if it wasn't for the money so it goes against the whole concept of a threesome. I cannot make out with your girlfriend and seriously enjoy myself. I can't even have sex with her boyfriend and seriously enjoy myself. It is not what Shirley wants, it is what THEY want. A person doesn't hire a maid and expect them (the maid) to thoroughly get off on making some stranger's house clean. The house cleaner most likely does not clean for fun..she is being paid to clean the house and she would not be there otherwise.

Moving on: I said I would give it a try (the 3 way) and make like I was enjoying myself during it especially when they handed me a bunch of money. A bunch. Of money. Once I have that money, I am keeping it. Especially in places like apartment buildings, sure, I can be overpowered by another human being, BUT I can also scream like hell and fight back as loud as I can. I can guarantee that the neighbors will hear me. I had done it before and no one ever wants anyone else to know that "they" utilize the services of a street girl. Once I already HAVE the money, if things don't go their way, what can they do?

Immediately he wants to get busy. So, he requests that I start going d*wn on him and that she watch. I still feel bad about this because I KNOW she probably wasn't getting all riled up like he was. Poor girl. So I oblige and do what he asks and then he says he wants to be in me from behind (not anally, in case you wondered, you pervert) and watch me go down on her. A sexual sandwich with me in the middle. I reluctantly agreed..I mean, I have no problems doing one date after another, but at the same time, no matter who you are, IS quite intense, and I have never been a fan in my personal or professional life, which isn't to say I haven't done it. The girlfriend prepares to enter the scenario.

One thing I can tell you is that in my life, then and now, I believe that being prepared for a sexual encounter is key. What I mean is..being clean, hygienically most importantly (I am not addressing the whole STI thing, just cleanliness of oneself). I am not going to really talk about MY life NOW but I will tell you that while I was working the street and certain things were asked of me I always made sure I was clean. Even as a homeless drug addict I made sure of it. I was a junkie so I always water on me and even a splash can help a particularly intimate situation.

As I have said in previous posts, often I was asked to shower before we did the "date" and always did if it was possible, and more often that not the other party does as well or is already respectably clean. Now, you might think that most individuals would NOT care to be clean since prostitutes are considered the scum of the Earth according to the majority but that is not the case. There are the filthy guys/dates and they have to be reckoned with, etc but most aren't overly scummy. I would expect this from another female for sure, being clean, I mean.

I would have thought that she would have made sure of this cleanliness before our rendezvous or even after we got to the apartment when it was clear we going to go ahead with it. But no, I guess riding on the back of her boyfriend's motorcycle in full leather bike gear was not something that she considered a threat to her "presentation". Don't get me wrong, she wasn't overly foul or anything..she was just the average woman, and like any woman she could have had a quick wipe down before hand. I know this sounds gross but I am not sure how to describe it other wise.

Long story short, she got in front of me and after about a minute and a half I was just like "no, I can't do this". I mean, I MAY have been able to had she been squeaky clean because hey, it just skin, right? But no, I was very aware that she was female and with buddy in the back of me trying to destroy me from the inside, it just wasn't going to happen. It is one thing to shut your eyes and just let them to things to you (intercourse) but it is a whole new game when you have to actually participate actively when in reality you cannot possible displace yourself mentally from the situation. I can't make you understand. It may sound crazy because I had to provide bl*w jobs all the time and that's me doing all the work, bl*wing vile men daily. But one bl*wjob is like any other and really, that was always easy.

SO, I just told them, I said I couldn't do it. I did not clarify why exactly but just said I wasn't into it or told them I was dope sick or something. And being the nice street girl that I was, I actually gave them a whole $10 dollars back. Which was a teensy percentage of the grand total but I felt they deserved that much back. They still had the visual of the few minutes I HAD taken part, so whatever. Plus, I found her lack of courtesy off putting as well.

That is it, that is my story for this week. Nice and humiliating and embarrassing and all the people that I know from my real life will read this and shake their heads and talk amongst themselves about how they cannot believe I used to do things like this and how disgusting, blahblahblah. But remember, you didn't live my life, you have no idea how it was. You have no clue that once you get to a certain point (and that point is very early on once you sell yourself just one time) you will do pretty much anything (pain excluded or hopefully avoided) and it is all work. Just work, just a job, one day no different than any other..the only thing that sets the days apart is the amount of dates you can fit into one day and of course the people change.. But then again, they sort of ARE all the same people that just want a variation of the same thing.

And the posts, well, they all end the same way too. Without a life lesson, you don't leave having learned something new. Just another tale about a day in my life that I wish had never happened but am not ashamed that it did all the same.

Zardoz Commands you to KILL

I was using heroin for about a year before I had to tell anyone about it. I had a couple friends that knew something was up and I am sure my co-workers knew..but maybe not. I had also been hiding it from my live in boyfriend as well. It was a year after we moved in together that he found out. It doesn't really matter how he found out, but he did.

In my world when someone finds out about your drug adduction or already knows, they aren't usually going to be supportive because obviously, heroin is bad. So, I always had to start promising that I would get clean, that I wanted to get clean and all that. Going into treatment was not something I was considering, but I did not want to be dope sick every morning any more and I was in a place where my addiction was totally unmanageable. I had a job and all this other stuff to worry about and also didn't really know anything ABOUT detox/treatment (my sister had been to a few treatment centres for alcoholism but that is all I had been exposed to at that time). My first instinct when I was finally faced with admitting my addiction to heroin was to go on the methadone program. I had asked my friendly neighborhood dope seller what I should do and he suggested it. I had no idea how to even get on the program so I went to this place that was called "Commercial Heath Centre" (I include the name because they are fabulous and I love them).

The first time I went there it was closed for lunch. I was like, "what??". I mean, how can they close for lunch? If someone is an addict, their desire to get clean comes on quickly and then disappears even quicker. They may want help one minute and then the next, not at all. So, I was pretty put off by the closed for lunch sign.

The next day I called there and this guy Ron answered the phone. Ron, I love you. Ron, was amazing, I mean, he used to be an addict..like a "f*ck this, f*ck the world addict" - you know, the kind that every junkie can relate to*. I asked him how I could get on the program and he asked me, had I ever been to detox. I said no. He then informed me that I would be denied methadone until I had at least tried to detox since methadone is looked on as a last resort. He told me to go to a clinic and ask the doctor for something called "Clonidine", which was to help me with my heart rate, as detoxing makes your heart beat super fast. So, I did this. I took 5 days off of work and planned to detox at home. Of course, I had never even tried to kick before so I naively thought 5 days was enough.

I went to a walk in clinic and the doc was a total prick. I had seen this doctor once before when I went to him for the morning after pill and he wouldn't give it to me because it was against his religious beliefs. So, naturally, this is the doctor working when I go there in desperation, seeking help for my addiction. Ron had also told me to ask for Valium because sometimes doctors will give you that too. I told the doctor I was a heroin addict, that I needed help and could I get a 'script for Clonidine and Valium. No way, he says. His saying no to the Valium I sort of get, EXCEPT the thing was that I knew he wouldn't give me a 'script for the Vs BECAUSE I was an addict and he thought I was going to misuse them. I wasn't planning on it, I was really just trying to get clean. But, like most doctors that haven't been specially trained to deal with addicts he was an assh*le and treated me like I was garbage. I got the prescription for Clonidine and went and got it filled.

Up until this point I was very nervous, but still had faith in myself and the medical system. When I picked up the meds a few moments later, I was very put off by the fact that the Clonidine was only cost me thirteen (thats 13) dollars . If you know anything about pills, you know that the more expensive a medication is, the more powerful it is, etc. $13 didn't make me feel very much better about the journey I was about to embark on but still, I went ahead with my plan.

I went home to my apartment with no dope on me. My boyfriend searched my bag and found nothing. He totally did not trust me, for obvious reasons, number one being that I had been lying to him for a year about using heroin. I had also lied about what I did with my money, even going so far as to filing a false police report saying I had my wallet stolen when in actuality I had spent our $700 in rent money on drugs debts and drugs. I showed him where I kept my dope and he saw it was empty. As a user you find various ingenious ways to conceal your "stash". Personally I had what appeared to be a dental floss container that I could just click open and inside it I had my flap, my straw and a folded up piece of tinfoil (I was not shooting up then, though I had done it before). He searched everything in my bag and even searched the house and found nothing (he went so far as to open everyone of my CD cases to see if I had hidden some there). Now when I think back I think, "why the f*ck DIDN'T I hide something?". I didn't because I was going to try my best.

I used my last bit that day, a Friday, before I got home and had nothing after about 5 o'clock. I fell into a sort of sleep. We had been up late because I was nervous and because we were watching movies. My ex had rented about 10 movies for me for the next few days to help me pass the time. This was the first time I watched Zardoz, and it ruled, by the way.

By the next morning the sickness was in full effect. We had already planned to get a bunch of weed to at least try to minimize my pain and anxiety on top of the Clonidine I had gotten. The weed seller wasn't going to be around until 5 though and so it was a loooooong day until then. I couldn't eat, could not pass time by sleeping, no rest at all (and actually, I have heard that some people could sleep each night until about 2 days into their detox off of heroin, but not me. I couldn't sleep as soon as I knew I was even going to try to kick). He tried to make me eat. He brilliantly gave me "Spirulina" mixed with yogurt and it made me puke. If you don't know what "Spirulina" is I am sure you can Google it and find out. It still makes me shudder when I think of it, but it also makes me laugh too because he tried it after I did and almost barfed. It was like the worst thing you could give to someone that is having a hard time eating.

Finally came the time to get the weed. He had to go somewhere in Chinatown and suggested I stayed home. I volunteered to go with him though, and told him I would try to score some Valium at Main and Hastings while he was getting the weed. I had had an ex bf that was an addict, years ago, and he told me that you can get anything there. It is an area known for drugs and all that. I was so naive though, it isn't like someone is always there selling pills. It is basically "rock (crack), down (heroin), and powder (cocaine)" that is sold there. I knew this deep down, that I most likely would not find any Vs but was also super desperate at this point (keep in mind I am not even 24 hrs into my detox yet). I had another ulterior motive. I had a stash of 10 loonies (one dollar coins) in my backpack that I had found night before. So while my bf was getting the weed, I was going to try to score Valium as well as down. Ten bucks won't buy you much but I was hurting bad.

He goes to get the weed and I go to score. I had to be quick because if he came back and saw me getting heroin he would spazz and probably knock me around for a bit once we got home, plus I had to ingest it before he came back. I had limited time. So, first I made my feeble attempt at acquiring the heroin. If you have ever tried to infiltrate an area like this you can imagine what I went through. These people can spot a mark from a mile away. I was so friggen paranoid that I was going to get busted by cops and my bf that the first person that mouthed the word "DOWN" to me, I went over to. I gave him the money and he gave me something that looked like crushed drywall. No matter, I snorted it anyways and it did nothing to alleviate my withdrawal symptoms.

I then went to get the Valium. I had a ten dollar budget for that. I had no idea how much it would cost but was hoping for a miracle. I went up to some little ogre and told him I wanted Valium and he took me inside a pub, asked me for the ten bucks, and said for me to wait there, at the entrance. He went in the washroom, came out, went over to this table of about 5 wasted drunks and then came back to me and gave me something wrapped in tissue. He said "hurry, hurry get outta here" like as if we were going to get busted or something and I swear to God he vanished into thin air. Once outside I looked inside the tissue and found some rocks that looked like stucco rocks from the outside of a house. Great, I wasn't overly shocked...I was more concerned at telling my bf that I had lost the money. We were in no way financially secure and plus he was prick.

As an aside, I will tell you that Main and Hastings is very intimidating if you are not familiar with it. Everyone tries to rip you off, they see everyone as an opportunity for getting money. Plus the ever present worry about the cops add to the stress. After being there a while you learn to not f*cking care, but in the beginning it is easy to get taken.

Back to the story: I walked across the street to where my bf had been waiting after he had gotten the weed and told him about the money I lost. He was upset but not overly so. He just made me feel like a worthless piece of sh*t and told me I was stupid as hell, the usual stuff.

We went back home and he put on a movie for me, I rolled a joint and smoked it. It made me totally freak out and my heart rate was through the roof (despite the Clonidine, which I don't even think it was anything more than a placebo..like the doctors tell you it slows your heart down but in actuality it doesn't, that is how effective it was) but..despite that, eventually I fell asleep for about ten minutes.

The night drug on and soon it was time for bed, for him anyways. I told him I was going to sleep in the other room since I knew I was going to be squirming like a son of a bitch and I would probably keep him awake.

I seriously writhed around all night. I remember getting up to use the washroom and I banged into walls, made tons of noise, I must have sounded like a buffalo when I was breathing. I was so weak. I remember thinking to myself that I was like a snake. If I slithered and wiggled while I was lying down then the "bugs" or whatever it was (sort of felt like bugs, I wasn't hallucinating) would be less active under my skin.

The next morning my boyfriend got out of bed and he asked me how I was...I was sweaty and my hair was manged big time from my restlessness and I told him how horrid and painful my night was. He then had the balls to tell me how awful HIS night had been..that his back had been hurting and blah blah blah. As if, this is sooo irritating to a person that is dope sick. People say they understand and all that but they really don't. I find it patronizing and very irritating when anyone that hasn't been "there" tells me "Oh, I understand" and tries to equivocate pain they may have felt at some point in their lives with the pain and discomfort of withdrawal. Their heart may be in the right place, but there is a difference between saying you understand and saying you understand that the person may be in pain, and with THAT you can sympathize. I don't care how many years you spent in university getting your degree in "counselling science", do NOT tell me (or tell "us") that you understand, because you don't. This is why previous drug use or any substance abuse should be a job requirement for anyone that works in a detox because I wasn't about to listen to anything coming from someone that hadn't been writhing around on the floor, pissing and puking on themselves for days.

After our initial good mornings..my bf was going to make himself breakfast. At this point I could not eat but also could not even look at the food or even smell it without getting nauseous. He cooked himself up some bacon. It was almost unbearable. In real life I like bacon but this particular day it was so overpowering and thick and just the aroma of cooking meat was vomitus.

I was hiding out in the bedroom with the door closed when he came to find me after he ate. I told him I had had enough, I was done, I had gone as far as I could go on my own. I was too dope sick and needed professional help. Then he surprised me by saying that he agreed. He said he hated seeing me like that and that he was worried that if I was already as sick as I was, he was not "qualified" to take care of me not knowing how bad it was going to get. (I honestly thought he was going to tell me how pathetic I was, that I obviously did not love him enough and I was a worthless pussy). We agreed that I needed to go score, not from Main and Hastings, but from a reputable dope dealer near where I worked in east van. I told my bf that I could not even take the bus, all I could do was get in a cab and have the dealer waiting, then I could get out of the taxi, buy the dope, get back in and come home. Cab drivers usually don't care and are used to people buying dope from the passenger side window of their car, if anything they may just ask you to get out and jump back in after.

I was prepared to go exactly how I was, in my scummy, sweaty, mangy state..no teeth brushing, no face washing, nothing. That is how it is when someone is sick, everything else comes after. First the wack, then life.

Anyways, bf called a cab and I went to score, after he combed my hair. Even the taxi ride hurt. I went then I came home, crawled up the stairs to my apt and did some dope. I had made to about a day and three eighths into detoxing from heroin.

In the grand scheme of things I was not overly ill, but when rating the levels of sickness...there really is no 1-10. Dope sick is dope sick. But if I had to rate it, I would say I was at about a 3. Remember the first time you did acid and you were wasted only an hour into it, and you think to yourself "I cant believe it has only been an hour...I can't believe that I am going to get higher"?? It is sort of like that, if that makes any sense. For me it was like that anyways. You know you are going to get sicker but you already feel so ill how can it possibly get worse? But it does.

The next day was a Monday and I was still reeling from my attempt but other than that things were basically back to normal. I went to the clinic on Tuesday, since they were closed on Mondays. I did my intake and then had to wait to see my doctor, Dr. Russell. I met with him, he asked me a lot of questions, including how much I was using each day (I was already prepared for this one, my dealer had told me to always say that you were using more than you actually were, because apparently they never prescribed you enough of the methadone to compensate). Then I had to wait three long days for my application to be approved by the Collegiate of Physicians (think that is what it is called). They could refuse you for various reasons, one of those reasons being if you had not attempted to get clean by detoxing or had not even tried to go to a detox centre. I did tell him I had tried to kick myself, and had failed. Looking back though, I see that I didn't even really need to even try to detox..I could have just SAID I tried. It wasn;t like he could look into it and find out that I was lying.

That was my first attempt at home made detox. One other time I tried to detox at "home" rather than a medical detox facility. Doesn't matter how many times there were between the first try and this next one, and to tell you the truth I can't even get things straight sometimes. Some happenings blur together and their correct chronological order is lost in the sands of time. I remember when I was a total speed freak and used to stay awake for like 7 days (I never went longer than that) and instead of feeling like it had been a whole 7 days, it sometimes felt like one super, super long day.

So this second time "we" had arranged for me to go to my sister's house in Delta to detox. I was not familiar with Delta, so I had no dope connection out there, plus they weren't planning on letting me go out much, much less letting me out with any money. My sis had been in treatment before as I mentioned and had detoxed off of alcohol more than once so she knew that I was going to be sick. I still did not know even how sick I was going to get, as I had only ever made it to day 2 and a half I think, and that time was by accident**.

To be continued....(this post was soooo long that I cut it into 2...)

_______

* It is like an elite club that you can belong to, like any support group I guess. It is easy to find a kindred spirit in a fellow addict. It is like having a radar...you can just tell when someone speaks the same language. Even now, years later, I still spot it and feel it with certain people.

**The time I made it to 2 and a half days I had gone to visit a friend of mine in Calgary and had thought I bought enough heroin for 5 days. I did not, like most junkies, I knew I had this larger than normal amount on me and blew through in record time, not even considering what I would do when I was faced with being out of dope. I ran out when I still had 2 whole days before I was to come home. I even had money, but could fine not dope in that city. No heroin, only crack. I Western Unioned some money to my dealer to have him courier dope out to me even though it was only going to get there about 6 hrs before I had to catch my flight. He did not even get the money from the Western Union place though because the guy there refused to deal with him due to my dope dealer calling him a "stupid f*cking' chink". I had to go get the $$ myself after I got back from Alberta. It was an awful 2 and a half days. I just drank a ton of vodka until I passed out and ended up puking on myself.

Scammin' ROUND TWO

What I was planning on doing here was just tell you some of the things that the ladies of the night downtown in my hood did to get money from guys for nothing. Hereafter referred to as scammin' or ripped off. Got it?

I can't possibly number them one through ten (actually there will be only about 5 or 6 in my list) in the sense that no one is better than the other. They will be listed in no particular order.

I am condoning any of these methods, they are all very unsafe and not recommended to be tried by anyone, prostitute or no. Honesty is the best policy when selling oneself and in regards to securing your "safety" just blow the guy and get the money that way. Anyone who chooses to follow through and go against this recommendation is doing so at their own risk.

1. Simply put, the girl just doesn't do the date. She gets in the car, he thinks all is a go..but when they get to the place to do the date she pulls out some mace or a dirty needle or even some rusty box cutter and tells the guy that he can either give her the money or...it will be..bad. They don't want to be stabbed with an HIV tainted needle (which is of course what is threatened when the needle is presented) and they don't want to be maced (who does) and I know from experience that being stabbed with any kind of dirty utensil can give you a serious infection* (see below).

2. The girl tells the guy some bullsh*t story like her boyfriend is watching and has his license plate number or that if he doesn't hand over the money she will scream and call rape or something and then the cops will show up and well, you know. Again, that would be bad. I was told by one date that the first time he picked up a prostitute she told him that she was an undercover cop and to give her all his money. And he did. Idiot, I can't imagine HOW a drug infested, homeless, street urchin could be a police officer but as I have mentioned before, these guys are sooo paranoid about getting busted that anything can shake them.

Some guys are smarter than others though and call the girl's bluff and take her right to the police station and she gets out running once they get there.

3. Some girls have an elaborate scheme worked out that requires more than one player. I heard from one dope dealer that he paired up with this girl and when she was in the predetermined date spot he would pull up in a Crown Victoria (this is the standard vehicle type cops and undercover cops drive), right behind them, and the girl would make like it was the fuzz. The "date" would then take off and she would get out with the $$. It is customary to get the money first, before anything sexual happens between the girl and her date, which is why this particular scenario worked out well for them. He helped her because once she had the $$ he knew she would be buying the dope from him, etc. The circle of life, Main and Hastings style. This one in particular make me laugh because of the car. Brilliant.

Also, what happened to me was once I was in a van w/ one of my "boyfriends" and we were in the back smoking crack and I guess this guy walking by had heard us in there. He knocks on the window and tells us that he is going to call the cops because he knows what we are doing. BUT unbeknown to HIM it wasn't a date/sex selling situation so even if he did call the cops all we were doing was smoking crack and well, his threats didn't bother us.

My BF yelled through the door that I was his girlfriend blahblahblah, and this guy still pretended to call the cops on his bogus cell phone that probably didn't even work. Eventually he walked away, but my point is, this is another way of pulling a fast one on some unsuspecting guy. Get in the car, make like you will do the date - and then have your "boyfriend" or some concerned "citizen" bang on the vehicle and this of course makes the guys freak and the girl gets the $$ without doing the date. Of course, because it is more than her pulling this off the money has to be shared.

4. Another easy one I have heard about is acting weird. She gets in the car and seems all normal and not wigged out, but then once the deal is struck she pretends to be all tweaky by twitching and pretending to look for crack on the floor or something like that. Usually the guy wants her out of the car so bad that he just GIVES her the money so then she will go.

5. A variation on #4 is to tell the guy you have a condom but then when you get there, mysteriously..you can't find it. Some guys (NOT ALL) will not do it without a condom. She has already gotten the money so she wins. You never give the money back once you have it in your hands. I did once..I gave back some but not all, but that story is for another day. An it was in no way a similar situation to this one.

5. Do dope in the car. I personally never did this unless it was already established that it was okay to do so. It is so retarded how most guys that pick up girls out there seem to pretend to themselves that we are not buying drugs with our money. Why else would we be doing it? They exploit and prey on us because of our desperation..but they don't like to address it head on by acknowledging that we get high. So, if some girl pulls out her crack pipe and lights up - he spazzes and the date is over.

6. Once the guy has paid and then pulls down his pants (this can just be pulled off in a vehicle, I guess) the girl can simply jump out and run...what is buddy gonna do? He has to pull 'em up before he starts the car and all that. OR another modification is to get him w/ his trousers down and then demand his wallet coupled with some sort of threat to his well being or to his all important appendage.

For some reason this makes me think of Vince the Shamwow/Slapchop guy and the mugshot I saw online of him after he had gotten into a fight w/ a prostitute. How he tells it she bit his tongue, so he kicked her ass but who knows if that is actually what happened.. maybe she threatened with outing him cause he is a celebrity in the infomercial world or maybe he is just an agro prick that was jacked up on coke. He SEEMS (from I have seen of him on TV)

like someone that is into coke. This actually is a perfect example of how ridiculous the movie "Pretty Woman" is. Julia Roberts is all "no kissing, it's too personal" and in real life girls are like "I will kiss you or whatever the f*ck else you want me to do if the price is right".

There is a million more ways to rip guys off, I am sure, but these are the ones that come to my mind at this moment. Sometimes I feel like I am writing a how-to book, but as you must know, these scams do not always end with the girls getting the money - sometimes she can end up bruised, battered or just with no money.

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Footnote* One time I cut myself with my crack pipe. This isn't an uncommon occurrence. You can buy a crack pipe from a store (yes, have you ever seen those little glass tubes at the corner store that have those pretty little multicolored roses in them?? Well, that is a crack pipe not an expression of love) or you can buy a pipe from specific people in the dope zone that only sell pipes as a way to support their habit. This is always more convenient because it already has the brillo in it and all that. BUT ANYWAYS...you can buy these pipes and sometimes you need to break them to make them shorter or you may have to break after you have them awhile because they crack and get jagged edges.

So, I used to always break my pipes with my fingers. Just grab a sharp edge and yank on it and then use the cement as a file and try to smooth the edges. I did this all the time..but one time I did this and it was bad. I cut myself, which raised no alarm, BUT after three hours I felt like I had a serious sliver in my left pointing finger. Okay fine, no big deal...but the pain got worse and worse and worse and eventually my finger was three times the normal size and was red as beet. It was so amazingly painful. Up until that time it was the most pain I had experienced in my life.

At the time I was staying at my parents house but would still manage to get away sometimes which is when I had done the crack pipe buying and breaking. It was back at the house that it became unbearable. I tried running it under cold water (it was burning hot) and that didn't help and even the slightest breeze on it made me scream. My step mum took me to the walk in clinic in Coquitlam and the stupid doctor there ended up sending me to get X-rays. I had to tell him I was a junkie as it was pretty important to the story, but once he knew this, he didn't believe me when I told him I hadn't sprained my finger. But of course, my word counts for nothing because I am just a junkie, I guess. I spent 4 wasted hours writhing in agony waiting 4 hours for my x-rays to be taken.

We had to go all the way downtown to a clinic doctor there who knew right away what it was..he gave me a 'script and that was that. It took 4 weeks to heal and if you look close you can still see the skin's stretch marks on my finger from when it was swollen. A normal person would also be given a prescription for pain meds but not for us dope addicts..no, no, no. We had to tough it out.

Once I had an abscess tooth and had to call 911 for an ambulance for MYSELF and at the hospital the doctors only gave me medication for the tooth nothing for the pain. Well, they gave me dilaudid 2mg. Great, the smallest dosage known to man and they did nothing to alleviate my pain. My face was like 3 times its normal size on one size but it didn't matter. I shouldn't have told them I was an addict but of course they knew. They picked me up from Carnegie (central location for people such as myself, addicts and all that). Also, another indicator was the fact that any normal person would have gone to the doctor way sooner...but not a junkie. No way, we wait until we feel like we were going to f*cking die from the pain..THEN we will get it checked out. I knew a few people that lost limbs that way, due to abscesses that were treated too late.

Yeah, those stupid dilaudid twos....sigh.. I couldn't even break 'em down and shoot them. It would have been a waste of a new rig.

Something else: I searched Google images for the picture of the dilaudid 2mg pills and (this just struck me as amusing) I ended up on the website for the DEA.

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