Dino Velvet
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- Εγγρ.
- 14 Νοε 2009
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Girls who were told they were the prettiest girl in Mankato found themselves just another trout in a sea of trout, boobs not big enough, lips not full enough. In need of liposuction, and a tan. You were expected to race around the city all day chasing auditions, how were you supposed to pay the bills? Stripping seemed a logical choice, easy money in your pocket and your days were free. And for a while it worked—until the rejection got to you. And the late nights of drinking. And soon enough like vultures came the leech musicians, sucking you into the “12-month Plan” –you strip and support us and in a year when I get my record deal we’ll both live in style. I can’t tell you how many times I saw this. Broke dick dudes showing off their brand new Les Paulsor their huge Pro-tool rigs all bought and paid for by their lap dancing dumb-ass chicks. Like a wife putting her man through medical school…sort of.
After a while the girl just got tired of trying to be an actress, tired of the constant rejection. And usually the coveted bit part came with a price, blow the casting director or blow the agent or blow the gaffer—Death by a thousand cuts. After being leered at and pawed at all day for no money it seemed easier to do it at night for a lot of money. Adios acting career, hello Darkness. And then if that wasn’t enough, the mooch musician would let his entire band move into your cramped apt., ‘temporarily’. Pretty soon the poor girl is supporting a whole gaggle of leeches. The band needs a new demo Destiny, fork over. The band needs flyers Destiny, fork over. Good old Destiny. Good old cash cow. The 12-month plan turned into 18 months, then 24. At some point they just broke up, he would find a new cash cow or she would have to burn him off her arm like a tick.
After a while the girl just got tired of trying to be an actress, tired of the constant rejection. And usually the coveted bit part came with a price, blow the casting director or blow the agent or blow the gaffer—Death by a thousand cuts. After being leered at and pawed at all day for no money it seemed easier to do it at night for a lot of money. Adios acting career, hello Darkness. And then if that wasn’t enough, the mooch musician would let his entire band move into your cramped apt., ‘temporarily’. Pretty soon the poor girl is supporting a whole gaggle of leeches. The band needs a new demo Destiny, fork over. The band needs flyers Destiny, fork over. Good old Destiny. Good old cash cow. The 12-month plan turned into 18 months, then 24. At some point they just broke up, he would find a new cash cow or she would have to burn him off her arm like a tick.
