I let Technician McVicker know about the new blog.
The first thing he said was that a certain lawyer has probably already found it. The lawsuit was settled long ago and I haven’t worked at the filth factory in over a year. Now he’s just on a quest to ruin my life (faster than I’m doing it to myself).
Dan’s probably right. Somewhere on the campus that he works on, that son of a bitch is probably sitting in a dimly lit office at a giant desk , thoughtfully stroking his pet cat with his bionic arm and pouring over my blog posts. I’ll probably get two or three weeks out of this blog before I’ve put enough incriminating material onto here for him to compile a smear campaign against one of my former employers. One thing will lead to another, and it’ll all culminate with a call from a local reporter asking if she can get a few quotes for the article that she’s writing about me taking a dump in the heating duct of a local high school. I’ll shut down the blog for a few weeks, then start a new one that will be safe for a few days before his ip address starts showing up on my stats page.
I’ve just got to be careful about what I say.
On that note, I’ve decided to start doing gay porn.
Let me explain. There are two kinds of porn on HBO:
1) Documentaries about pornography that, instead of being hot, feature strange acts with terrifying people performing them and
2) Films that aren’t porn at all but are suggestively titled so I think they’re porn but turn out to be period dramas.
The documentaries are almost always terrifying exposes on creepy fringe sexual practices, ranging from people who like to dress up as horses and ride each other to a class on how to perform cunnilingus that was primarily attended (and taught) by obese 14 year old boys claiming to be lesbians in their early 30′s.
Well let me tell you something, “Cindy”: You’re not fooling anyone with your Ani DiFranco shirt or your “vagina”, least of all me.
The films that aren’t actually porn always just have promising names like “After Midnight: Ecstasy Unleashed”, but when I hit “Info” on my remote, it’s always something like “In this heart-wrenching romantic drama, Patrick Stewart (Star Trek, X-Men) is at his oscar-worthy best in a touching roll as John Huckabee, a widower looking for a second chance at love in a bubonic plague-ravaged 12th-century England.”
Anyway, Tom and I were watching one of the documentaries the other night, and they had a segment on gay-for-pay sex scenes.
Gay-for-pay, for those of you who don’t know, is when straight men perform in gay sex scenes. Why, do you ask, is a straight man willing to engage in a gay sex scene? Because said scenes pay approximately three thousand dollars, which is well above the amount one can make in guy-girl or girl-girl porn.
If you do a little bit of math, the facts become clear: If I spent two days a week filming gay porn instead of subbing, I would have two hundred eighty eight thousand dollars at the end of the year. I mean, Christ, if I bump it up to 4 days a week, I’m looking at over half a million dollars come tax time.
Do you see what I’m saying? Sure, I would have to do some things I wouldn’t be proud of, but it’s legal, I’m qualified, and at the end of the year I would have over 500 grand to spend on booze, rent, STD treatment and therapy!
Some people that I have run the idea by have told me that although my current job pays less, it’s far less of a compromise to my dignity. They’re right, but here’s the thing:
Doing one day of gay porn pays 37.5 times as much money as one day of subbing. Sure, there’s less dignity in it, but is there 37.5 times less dignity in it? Is putting my balls in some dudes mouth really that much less dignified than spending eight hours telling 14 year old girls to stop sending text messages?
I’m not really sure.
Despite these facts, I don’t foresee this happening anytime soon. After doing a little bit more research into the matter, I found out an alarming fact: in order to do gay porn, I would at some point be required to engage in a sexual act of some kind with another man, something that I am not comfortable with.
To make matters worse, my girlfriend pulled out the old “I’m pretty sure, and by ‘pretty sure’ I mean ‘certain’ that we would have to break up immediately if you started having sex with men for money” card, which is fine, I guess. I sort of figured that she would want me to be successful, but, you know, I guess that I was wrong.
Until then, I guess I just have to keep wearing a tie and yelling at kids for a living.
Damn it.
P.S.: The fact that I even find this video 12% entertaining is evidence that I haven’t grown up.
Good day.