Playing Hooky... And Hooker

I didn't get the message this morning. Apparently I'd run myself into complete exhaustion and my body didn't want to get up. So I stayed in bed. I guess that's one positive thing about this wait. I don't have to horde all my vacation days anymore since it's pretty clear I won't travel in '07. I can afford to give one up here and there. I picked a great day to stay in my jammies, too. It's thundering rain outside today. I counted how many hours I worked in total during the last 7 days. It was 72. That's pretty ridiculous. But I chose to do it... so no complaining. It'll be worth it when I get my paycheck.

I've gotten a lot of comments on my crackhead ho story I mentioned in the post below and was asked to elaborate. For those who are new to this blog, I wasn't really a prostitute so don't run to my social worker to report me. I'm a police officer who worked undercover as one. Are we clear?

"My Best Offer Ever" day was back in the summertime several years ago. My hooker attire that day consisted of a nasty pair of baggy shorts, a beat up stained tee shirt that I actually dripped ketchup and smeared some food on to make look dirtier, grass stained tennies, no make-up at all and crazy, unwashed hair. Well, technically I did wear a bit of make-up. Just not on my face. You see, most street corner prostitutes have bruises. Either from shooting up drugs intravenously or just because of the hard life they live. So to make me look a little worse for wear I used a purple eye shadow-black eyeliner combination to paint a few fake bruises on my arms and legs. No dudes, I'm not kidding.

Now get that mental image going. We're not talking Julia R0berts in "Pretty W0man" here. We're talking the skankier the better. I wore a wire under my clothes so the arrest team could hear my conversation. But when you're on the wire, you can't hear them. Only they can hear you. So sometimes out of boredom you end up standing there mumbling away to the arrest team...but not getting answers. I guess it just lends itself to the whole slightly crazy, strung out, persona you're trying to make believable. It always amazes me the level of nastiness of some of these women. And that men are paying them for sex. Gross.

Anyway... back to the story. I worked my corner in front of a Chinese restaurant. Funny, huh? Another red thread to my daughter? Uh... I think I'll keep that story outta the scrapbook.

The guy drives up and makes some conversation. We're not allowed to mention sex or money first. They have to open the door to that. So he ends up offering me $50 for the basic stuff. Since this is mostly a PG rated blog I won't get specific. But you can use your imagination. Now $50 is a fortune in the crackead ho business.... even for the "Everything Special". Really it is. One real live crackhead ho once told me she got $1.25 and a bag of potato chips. I swear, people, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. My "john" asked if I'd wait 5 minutes for him to run down the street to the ATM. Apparently, he didn't plan ahead and I was just an impulse buy. LOL!

We're not allowed to get in the car when working undercover. Way too dangerous because we have to be unarmed. So we always tell them something along the lines of "meet me 'round da corner cuz a cop drove by before and I don't wanna be seen gettin' in da car witchya". You'd think the guys would know we're undercover cuz we're the only corner girls who DON'T get in the car. The real life ho's jump right in. When he pulled off, the team stopped his car and arrested him. And there you have it. A day in the life of a pretend ho. I don't do this type of work anymore but it was great fun at the time.

Can you imagine the crazy web hits I'm gonna get today? Sorry guys it's not what you think. Try another website.