At Work I'm A Prostitute, But At Home I'm Just Mom

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Vol 36 Issue 10

Area Man's Got A Ton Of Shit On His Mind Right Now, Okay?

LOS ANGELES–Look, just give Bill Turlington a break, okay? The 35-year-old L.A. advertising executive is buried up to his neck in shit right now, and half an hour of peace and quiet is all he's asking for. Tormented by incompetent assistants, clueless clients, and the very real possibility of losing the MCI account, and, if you hadn't noticed, the ulcer-plagued Turlington is on the phone at the moment, so would you please get out? Now listen: Turlington has no idea where your scissors are. Use a goddamn penknife or something and allow him to finish his conversation, for God's sake.

Parents Of 6-Year-Old Sorely Regretting Purchase Of Knock-Knock-Joke Book

MERCER ISLAND, WA–Just four days after giving their 6-year-old son Tanner a copy of 1,001 Silliest Knock-Knock Jokes In The World, Kevin and Jennifer Voskuil are already experiencing deep regrets about the decision, the Mercer Island couple reported Monday. "Hoozere?" asked a bleary-eyed Kevin, trying to sleep on the living-room sofa as Tanner read him yet another joke. "'Orange you glad I didn't say banana?' That's a funny one. Run outside to the garage and tell it to your mom." Jennifer, who has been treated to 762 of the 1,001 knock-knock jokes as of press time, expressed hope that Tanner can be weaned off the book and onto one that is less interactive. "Maybe the Guinness Book Of World Records," Jennifer said. "Or the thesaurus."

Local Woman Has Story About How She Got These Shoes

NATICK, MA–Mandy Walters has an interesting story about how she got these shoes, the Boston-area file clerk said Monday. "Okay, I'm driving to my mom's in Vermont when I stop to get gas," Walters told coworker Janet Bloch. "As I'm paying, I notice the time on the receipt, and it's an hour earlier than I thought, so I ask the guy if their clock is off. He says no, 'cause it turns out the night before was daylight savings. So, suddenly, I have an hour to kill, and what's right across the street? An outlet mall! And the Payless store had these for only $29.99!" Walters' blouse, purchased at the same mall, is reportedly another story altogether.

German Auto Engineer Issued Lab Coat

ELDORF, GERMANY–Karl Meine, a new engineer at BMW, was issued a white lab coat Monday, giving him the air of a man at the forefront of German automotive technology. "Karl will wear his lab coat and observe BMW prototypes being driven at extreme speeds on sheets of gleaming ball bearings," said BMW chief engineer Gunnar Hoechst. "He will also stand before a wall of computers as cars are subjected to advanced 59-point wind-tunnel tests in stark, white rooms." In addition to the lab coat, Meine has been issued a clipboard.

FCC Passes Mandatory Garofalo/Griffin Guest-Appearance Regulation

WASHINGTON, DC–Motivated by recent Janeane Garofalo and/or Kathy Griffin appearances on The Sopranos, 3rd Rock From The Sun, The Second Annual TV Guide Awards, Law & Order, and Strangers With Candy, the FCC passed a regulation Monday requiring walk-ons by "at least one of these cutting-edge underground comediennes on all TV shows." Said FCC chair William E. Kennard: "This measure is good for the television industry, ensuring that all programs enjoy a dose of the Garofalo/Griffin indie aura." Griffin is already slated for a guest appearance on next Monday's Nightline, on which she will play a nymphomaniacal tobacco lobbyist obsessed with Ted Koppel.

Clinton Vs. The NRA

In recent weeks, President Clinton and the National Rifle Association have been at war over the issue of gun control. What do you think?
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At Work I'm A Prostitute, But At Home I'm Just Mom

When I'm at work, I go by lots of names: "baby," "honey," "bitch," "slut," "cum dumpster." A small handful of johns even call me by my street name, Queenie. But when 5 a.m. rolls around and the work day's done, I walk through that front door of my house and I've got one name and one name only: "Mom."

These days, it's easy to get swept up in your career. Especially when you're in a fast-paced, high-profile field like prostitution. When I've had a successful day at work–suppose I've doubled my tricks or was the one chosen from the entire line-up for a suck job on some 70-year-old in the back of a Mercedes–I might be feeling pretty full of myself. Or perhaps it was me who one of the newer girls chose to come to for advice about which free clinics treat gonorrhea. But regardless of my accomplishments, when I come home and hang up my white fake-fur jacket, peel off my spandex minidress, and kick off my four-inch stiletto heels, I realize what my most important job is: being a mom to Brittany and Dylan, my two beautiful children.

Believe me, Brittany and Dylan don't care that Big Earl counts me among his most important pieces of property. Or that he's promised to get me a suede fringed jacket if I keep bringing in all those repeat anal-penetration customers. In fact, they don't even really understand what it is Mommy does all night at work. And you know what? They're not particularly interested. Because children think their mothers have only one role–to take care of them. And, when you really get down to it, aren't they right?

I might be utterly exhausted when I come home after a 10-hour shift, but a 7-year-old doesn't know the difference between a relatively easy night of oral sex and hand jobs and a grueling stretch of sado-masochism and Viagra-induced pounding. I could be bleeding from any number of holes, but there's only one choice for a working mother like myself: to put on a smile and help with that homework.

So what if I've been beat up or if Big Earl makes me go down on him in the alleyway before he hands over my fix? None of that matters to Brittany and Dylan. Those kids are hungry now. It's up to me and me alone to get supper on the table.

I may not be home with Brittany and Dylan all the time, but even when I'm not, I'm still mothering. The trick is to teach your children the important lessons early on. Then, even when you're on your back on a stained mattress in an abandoned building far away, they'll know not to play with matches or talk to strangers. Not to boast, but I'm raising two terrific kids. Last night, when I was forced to bring work home with me, they let me do it in peace, staying quietly in their rooms until the customer was gone. (Ever since Khandi lost all that weight and died of pneumonia, I've been getting a lot of extra business.)

How do I do it, you ask? Just how can I hold down a 60-hour-a-week streetwalking job and raise a family all by myself? It's not easy, I'll tell you that. It'd be nice if I had more time to spend with the kids, much less wash the dishes, do the laundry, and clean the house. But I have to believe that someday, Brittany and Dylan will understand why I wasn't a stay-at-home mom, and they'll appreciate all the men I did for them.

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