Just as I start getting attached to my weekly rate motel and it's direct dial phone system suitable for email, it's time to leave. I'm out of motel money. I paid for today (after the "manager" rang and rang and rang my room and pounded on my door), but if I don't get any work tonight, it's back to the Culver City bridges.
In defense of the "manager" here, I have found that the job of cheap motel managers, the MAIN job, is not to check people in. Any whiskey-soaked ex-convict could exchange cash for a key. No, the main skill required here is to be able to kick people out.
Directly across the six lane street (Crenshaw) from the Motel Marquis is a small, steepled church called the "Giving Faith Fellowship" church. Pushed up against that building is Momo's Bar. Attached to Momo's is the "Liquor and Keg" liquor store. On the other side is a Vietnamese dentist and right next to the motel is a large, weedy vacant lot where longhaul truckers park and crackheads dispose of thier homemade crack pipes constructed out of Tampax tubes.
Enough local color.
I'm trying to get work. I took Talia, one of my unemployed callgirl friends, to an escort agency yesterday so she could apply for work. The agency she used to work for was overcharging her, so she quit and went out and bought a car (buying things motivates her--callgirls are notoriously lazy unless they've got big bills to pay).
The fat, snotty Asian kid behind the desk at the agency in Torrance, Ca yesterday only had the Orange County day shift open. Fuck that. Dayshift Orange County customers are notoriously cheap. Mostly because they're usually still sober.
So I called in to Pacific Coast, a run down Westwood agency run by a lackadaisical midget named Duke, who's only claim to fame was his day job is as a stand-in for the short kid in "Married With Children".
Pacific Coast has some of the ugliest bitches in town, but I like the dispatch girl, Sherrie. Talia and I checked in, but there were no (customer) calls last night.
I put an ad in the L.A. Xpress offering my services as a callgirl driver, but the ad won't come out until next week. Fuck me.
I think Talia bought the car so she could drive herself to calls and cut me out of the loop. Fuck me.
I think the reason Pacific Coast didn't have any work for me is because The Russian has been there bad-mouthing me (a common response to rejection... I told that crazy whore I couldn't drive her out-of-control ass no more). Fuck me.
Patricia (the big bosomed medieval jouster) is out on the street and working the clubs and Valley Girl Rita took her cokehead boyfriend back in. He'll drive her. Fuck me.
Jade's been cancelled so often at the door because of her rotten black teeth that the post office should just tattoo her forehead and Tia has run out of men who want to be spanked and humiliated. Fuck me. (Metaphorically speaking).
Looks like I won't find any work schlepping hookers to their appointments this week, so it's back to skinny days under hot bridges.
Tags: Revver, weekly rate motel, crack motel, living under a bridge, homeless, callgirl, call girl, hooker, hookers, prostitution, prostitute, stripper, outcall, whiskey soaked, crackheads, escort agency, callgirl agencies, Married With Children, L.A. Xpress, crazy whore, sex workers, spanked and humiliated, schlepping, factotum, odd video, weird, jarvis
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