I did it. I walked out on my job. I had to. Irresponsible? Maybe. Ethical? I think so. Why? Because I was becoming a terrible person. I had only worked at that club for two months and it was turning me into a manipulative, lying bitch. I was learning how to sell myself just as much as I was learning how to sell drinks and as it turns out I am a hot product. The problem is that I do not want to be a product and I especially do not want my ass to be a product. I am not kidding; men would drop money on the floor so that I they could see up my skirt while I bent over to pick it up. I took their ass-cash willingly because I kind of like money. I'm really not ok with that and I had nearly fooled myself into believing that I WAS ok with that but in a moment of clarity (or panic) I said to myself "I have to get out of here" and so I did, mid-shift, and never came back.

I celebrated by having a shitshow giganto at my house. It was such a good party. The best party. I defiantly wore a frilly old dress (inherited from my grandma) because I've had it with miniskirts and bustiers. I still had boys clinging to me like flies but at least they were not clinging to my ass because frilly old dresses don't allow asses to make appearances (and I'm quite ok with that.)