January 1st: Happy New Year, diary! 2008 is going to be fantastic, I just know it. I'm so happy, I started singing in the shower, and thought about how uber-cool it would be to be an R & B singer. Or maybe a model. Someone famous enough that someone will talk about me and offer me money just for being ME. Note to self: find a way to get into the recording industry without having to blackmail someone. After all, I'm not a monster.
January 8th: Client 12 is a music producer. He says that it's really hard to break into the music industry because it takes, like, lots and lots of talent. "What about Nelly Furtado?" I asked, which was a huge mistake because for the rest of the night he insisted I wear a strap-on and refer to myself as "Timbaland." I charged him extra... hope he doesn't think I'm some kind of monster.
January 27th: Client 3. He's some kind of publisher guy. I asked him about getting a break and appearing in Playboy or Penthouse. He didn't seem interested in helping me. All he could do is bitch about how his nun's outfit got all wrinkled and stuff in his suitcase on the flight from LA. He was so annoying about it, I had to charge him extra. Now he probably thinks I'm a monster or something.
February 2nd: Client 8 is a publicist. I asked him what that meant, and he said it meant that he makes people famous, and makes famous people more famous. The crap some guys will tell ya just to be impressive! Jeez. Client 8 went on and on about his work, until he finally passed out from the Scotch and Oxycontins. He usually tips pretty well, so I went ahead and grabbed a little extra out of his wallet while he was sleeping. I left most of it there though. I'm not a monster!
February 13th: Client 9. Pays well, but always starts out with the same joke. "Hi, I'm Spitzer. And for the money this is costing me, you'd better Swallow'er." Ha ha. Then he insists I tell him how big his wang is. "It's a monster! it's a monster!" I yelled. He loves that.
March 3rd: I hate work. $1100 an hour sounds like good money, but I want more. I want to be BIG. I pray every night that Jesus will send me a way to make it big without having to work so hard. Not even a monster deserves to slave away like I have to. Note to self: KY Jelly is on sale at Wal-Mart.
March 11th: The phone won't stop ringing! It turns out that Client 9 is, like, the governor of New York State or something like that. It's all over the news, and I can't keep up with my new Friend Requests on Facebook, which sucks. But now I have an agent, and it looks like a movie deal, an album, and a nude photoshoot are in the works! Life is great, and I got it all just from going to work and doing my job.
I just don't want to be thought of as a monster...
January 8th: Client 12 is a music producer. He says that it's really hard to break into the music industry because it takes, like, lots and lots of talent. "What about Nelly Furtado?" I asked, which was a huge mistake because for the rest of the night he insisted I wear a strap-on and refer to myself as "Timbaland." I charged him extra... hope he doesn't think I'm some kind of monster.
January 27th: Client 3. He's some kind of publisher guy. I asked him about getting a break and appearing in Playboy or Penthouse. He didn't seem interested in helping me. All he could do is bitch about how his nun's outfit got all wrinkled and stuff in his suitcase on the flight from LA. He was so annoying about it, I had to charge him extra. Now he probably thinks I'm a monster or something.
February 2nd: Client 8 is a publicist. I asked him what that meant, and he said it meant that he makes people famous, and makes famous people more famous. The crap some guys will tell ya just to be impressive! Jeez. Client 8 went on and on about his work, until he finally passed out from the Scotch and Oxycontins. He usually tips pretty well, so I went ahead and grabbed a little extra out of his wallet while he was sleeping. I left most of it there though. I'm not a monster!
February 13th: Client 9. Pays well, but always starts out with the same joke. "Hi, I'm Spitzer. And for the money this is costing me, you'd better Swallow'er." Ha ha. Then he insists I tell him how big his wang is. "It's a monster! it's a monster!" I yelled. He loves that.
March 3rd: I hate work. $1100 an hour sounds like good money, but I want more. I want to be BIG. I pray every night that Jesus will send me a way to make it big without having to work so hard. Not even a monster deserves to slave away like I have to. Note to self: KY Jelly is on sale at Wal-Mart.
March 11th: The phone won't stop ringing! It turns out that Client 9 is, like, the governor of New York State or something like that. It's all over the news, and I can't keep up with my new Friend Requests on Facebook, which sucks. But now I have an agent, and it looks like a movie deal, an album, and a nude photoshoot are in the works! Life is great, and I got it all just from going to work and doing my job.
I just don't want to be thought of as a monster...
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