From ABC News:
FORT PIERCE, Fla. — A 300-pound prostitute robbed a man of $100 before pedaling away on a blue bicycle, according to a police report.
The case of the hefty hooker happened about 1:10 a.m. Monday as the 32-year-old man rode his bicycle when the assailant came up to him.
“The female approached asking (the alleged victim) did he want a date, which meant she wanted him to pay for some sex,” the report states.
The man told investigators he felt sorry for the woman and pulled $10 from his wallet to give to her. That’s when she allegedly pushed him off his bicycle and wrestled him down. She snatched his wallet, stole $100 and then pedaled off.
The alleged victim, who wasn’t injured, described his assailant as weighing 300 pounds and clad in blue jeans and a white T-shirt.
An officer searched the area but couldn’t find the woman.
But the real anomaly was the time we spent with our clothes on, smoking a joint in the darkened room and trading the intimate details of our lives a thin wall away from regular city street noise. Our time together felt sort of glam and scummy in an old New York way, which we both appreciated, as we did kitsch unearthed at flea markets and thrift stores, outsider culture, losers and weirdoes. It has been my experience that there truly, really are only two kinds of people in this world: those who take pleasure in the bizarre and those who don’t. Like me, R. was a freak lover. It was this aspect of his personality, I think, that let him see me for more than just a hooker. Sex workers, like carnies, junkies, transvestites, swingers, punks, and perverts…well, we were his people. I could tell that his respect for me was genuine, no matter what I did for a living.
I've been a reader of CollegeCallGirl for a minute, and I love what she wrote today.
This is a PSA that's been running in Canada. Just like Degrassi, it goes there!
Now I'm completely sober, my room's a mess still and this is what I have to show for it.
I don't check my real voicemails that come to my personal cell phone, so it's a little ridiculous that I'd try this... but anyway...
I set up an online voicemail box. I want you to call me and leave me messages.
(641) 715-3900
It may ask you to enter an extension. If it does, use this:
4143948#
I will be able to check them online, and if you leave an awesome message, I'll post it on my blog. If you ask me not to post it, I will consider it, but I will probably post it anyway.
BUT ONE LAST ONE!
What is the deal with Audrina's mouth? Is it just me, or is there something unbelievably disgusting about the whole thing? I think she's a pretty girl, I am in no way calling her ugly or something... I just think her mouth looks all gnarls all of the time.
I don't know why, but when I think specifically of Audrina's mouth, a bowl full of rotten mayonnaise immediately comes to mind.
That is one of many reasons why I would never win on Password.
Does anyone else wonder how a song as shitty as the Plain White T's Hey There Deliliah manages to get played on the radio enough times to become a number one hit? It has to be one of the lamest, douchiest songs I've ever heard. Surely people aren't actually requesting to hear this contrived piece of shit... right? I mean, look at the lyrics:
Hey there Delilah
What's it like in New York City?
I'm a thousand miles away
But girl tonight you look so pretty
Yes you do
Times Square can't shine as bright as you
I swear it's true
Hey there Delilah
Don't you worry about the distance
I'm right there if you get lonely
Give this song another listen
Close your eyes
Listen to my voice it's my disguise
I'm by your side
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
What you do to me
That's only the first half of the song. I couldn't be bothered to copy and paste the rest.
Here are some solid reasons to hate this song:
First, I think that words were more eloquently strung together in my sixth grade poetry class. The "Times Square" line really gets me because, ya know, Times Square is really bright! This must be a phenomenally bright lady! Or like... ya know, the dude who wrote this is a complete IDIOT and picked one of the most obvious comparisons that exists. Perhaps "The Eiffel Tower when they have it all decorated with a million tiny lights for Christmas and it's nighttime" was too long. Also, if she's in New York, wouldn't it be appropriate to compare her to something where he is? Because if she's shining brighter than Time Square, it would probably be pretty lucrative for her to stick around in NY for awhile. He's not doing a very good job of convincing her to care about him and his lame acoustic guitar.
Secondly, what the fuck DOES she do to this guy. We spend the whole long listening to his lame smilies and metaphors and he never gets to the point. If what she "does" to him is inspire him to write lame songs about his feelings, well then... awesome, Delilah. Thanks for contributing to the problem, bitch. There should be rules with this kind of music. If you can't kill it with the tune, then you kill it with the lyrics. Rape victims with guitars figured this out a really long time ago. Even someone like John Mayer gets props because he's managed to at least try and write interesting lyrics over slightly interesting acoustic jams. (83 - Whatever happened to my lunch box/when came the day that it got/thrown away and don't you think I should have had some say/in that decision). People, the Plain White T's music is pretty self-serving of them to be putting out there, more than any other music I can ever think of hearing (even worse than ballads about how hard it is to be rich and famous). Granted all musicians are somewhat self-serving in ther endevors, but usually they are presented to us with the idea that they were written to be shared with US, the general listening population. I feel like I'm listening to the emo love letters of a suburban white boy that failed high school English. No one is moved by this shit, and if you are, you are fourteen and you will feel deceived when you hear this song in ten years and you realize that no, you couldn't relate to it the way you thought you could and that no, love is not what you imagined it to be and that these dudes are in fact big babies.
Thirdly, a friend told me that this song is about the lead singer's friend's ex-girlfriend who he only met a few times. Um, weeeiirrrrddd.
Wagandstuff has been laying on my knees with a case of the hiccups for the last half an hour, off and on.
I keep checking to make sure he's not having a seizure. Sometimes I am afraid that all of his digestive issues are actually little seizures, and maybe he's suffered from it mentally and physically and I've failed to notice.
