Snooty Poo and Shoes

So this is what I meant to write about before I went of on a Tyler Perry Tangent. Sometimes you just have to get things off you chest.


The Blessing I spoke about was the reason. I am  a phone sex operator. It pays the bills, it allows me to write, it allows me to attend school. I wonder what would I gain by talking about some of the calls I get? Truthfully that's not me, how ever I feel somedays I need an outlet and this blog is not the right platform.

Hey Stud...

I happened to stumble on a blog that by a fellow agent and it reads like a how to manual for professionals. Kind of like the blogs I follow written by published writers, what not do to, blah blah blah. Again that's not me.


I am not a seasoned professional, this is not my lifetime gig. This is my current hustle and truthfully I just hate leaving my house.

No Comment, really I got nuthin.

But lets get down to business. What's this job like? A lot of poo. I hate poo, I hate talking about it, faking that I like it, and it just grosses me out to absolutely the inth of grossness. And what do you think my regular callers are all about? You guessed it, Poo.


Another thing I seem to have the knack for is ball smashing. Just call me Dr. Squeeze.  What's scary about these things, other than my over inflated ego, is that I get these kinks. the taboo behind some of this stuff is really basic.


It all comes down to a person's desire to either let go or rebel. I'm finding out more and more that my callers have deep rooted desires to give up their control even for a few minutes. In being able to let truly relax they are getting their release. Get it release, heh heh.


Sounds like some poetic psychobabble? Well, because it is, but in this cliche, the truth is so blatantly frickin obvious. I can't think of anything off the top of my head to state that better.


You know the first time I did this job years ago I didn't have so many special kink callers. I guess that is no longer the case. Vanilla sex is a thing of the past for my customers. I wonder if it's a trend that will go the way of the Dinosaurs or jheri curls? Or maybe it's like those super high heels that everyone has but can't walk in. I got a few (oh God I wandered into shoe territory, somebody help me before I start window shopping at NineWest.)


My job is not all about kink though I wish it were. Lately I've been getting callers who don't specify their fantasy. See it goes like this you ( I say you figuratively, not YOU you) call the line, the line gives you options. If you're so half cocked that you can't sit through the option menu, guess what happens? You get the first available operator. No tag no special request, no warning you get that operator's alter ego.

You're Killing me Smalls!

Your Higher Power better help you if you get me and you don't like me. Here is a big pink FAIL sticker for your head (you get to pick which head). My alter ego is African American just like me, don't waste three minutes of my life and your time getting upset because you ask what I look like and I tell you I'm 5'8" with long hair to my ass, brown skin and a juicy ghetto booty. You, are not allowed to get mad, and YOU, still have to pay for that time.


I'm here to help you folks, it's my job. I find it truly frustrating though, that customers hold themselves up over the silliest things. Your fantasy can exist, as long as you sit through the menu options, then everyone is happy. You're happy, I'm happy, you saved some money, and I've made a new customer.

So a friend of mine asked if being in this corner of the sex industry helps me write better smut. No it does not. The smut I write and the smut I sell are two different things. That I'm when i'm working I know my audience. My book isn't finished yet I'm pretty sure that my audience will have a wider scope.


Any whoo the whole point of this particular entry was to ponder the question of having a separate blog for a topic like this. Honestly you guys will have to let me know. If you don't want to read about this here let me know. Or if you like the randomness of the topics on this blog, let me know. Frankly I don't cover this topic frequently enough to warrant a whole blog.




I think I made more sense at Three this morning...
Girl 6 signing out.

Random for random's sake

The rest of my furniture arrived today. Almost a month after I discharged, but it's cool. So I've been unpacking for the last 24 hours, I'm no where near finished.


Put the music on random and set the brewer on constant. This kind of undertaking calls for lots of music and lots of tea.


Alanis Morrisette  comes up on and what's playing "Would Not Come" of her second album. I'm singing along with her, unpacking box after box of glass ware. Best part of it, aside the base line through out the song, "I'd have an orgasm still it would not come."


Amazing how tongue in cheek that line is. I wonder how many times have I gotten the joke there? I wonder how many times I didn't get and just sang right along?


I figured I share that with you. You want to know what the next song was? No? I'mma tell you anyway. Madonna and Kanye West, "On The Beat Goes." I told you random.

Wow he actually looks king of cute here!