Dave (boredomfiend) wrote,

Pimp at the gas station

A few days ago I get a text from someone who puts on workshops.. this one is being held in some lounge in LA.  The theme is "birds and feathers" and its the main organizer's birthday.  I know I already look a bit effeminate, I dont want to push it.. most things I could do with feathers would make me look totally and completely flaming gay, assuming you dont already think I look that way.  If you know me very well, you might know that I can push my shoulder blades into the air an extreme distance, and I was thinking about it.. wings with straps look retarded (in my opinion) and they're usually made too bulky anyway.  So I found black feathers (at the third craft shop I stopped at) and went to the house of my friend the makeup artist.  A couple hours to set it up and build the "wings" onto my back, and I was off.  The event was fun and the wings worked really well... I could position them easily by raising my shoulderblades, flat against my back or almost straight up in the air.  I want to build something bigger, and do a shoot with them.  Also met some people who run workshops nearby, so I'll be getting paid work from it.  There's a weekly workshop just one city away that I can get in on.

End of the event, I drive home.  I was supposed to stop back at my friend's house so she could help me take off the wings with the solvents she had.  The alternative is to very very slowly rip them off my skin.  If you rip fast, it takes skin with it.  Even going slow, it'll take all the hair.  Believe me I know this, they tore quite a bit off me last weekend.  So anyway, she was already passed out or something.  Granted its about 2:30am, but still.  She was supposed to be up, because these will probably suck to sleep with.  So I head home, but end up spending 45 minutes looking for parking within a couple blocks of my place.  Damn street sweepers.  Very much not appreciating their existence at the moment.  I end up parking a few streets away, which sucks.  Because I cant get the "wings" off yet so I cant fit a shirt on, but at the very least I can wear my trenchcoat over everything.  On the way home, I go through a gas station.  I know the people who work it, so I was going to say hello to them after they finished with a customer.  I like up a smoke and this guy chillin outside strikes up a conversation.
It was halfway hilarious.  He told me about this 19 year old that he found that he helped find work for... but then he started bitching about this guy not giving him his half, and trying to keep 75% of his earnings, and how he needs to go put this kid in his place..  Called himself a "consultant" and even bitched about the city not taking his advice on various things.  Then he basically switches to a sales pitch and tries to fuckin recruit me.  Somewhere in the vague job description that he totally avoided talking about, the word escort slipped out.  So long story short, this guy was a pimp.  I suppose there are legitimate escort services, but as far as I know, 95% of them are really what we like to call "whores."  This guy is definitely not in the 5%.  By the time he handed me his pre-written post-it-note name/number combo, I was already laughing a little and thoroughly amused.  In the end, I left his "card" on the table and resumed my journey homeward.  In a trenchcoat without a shirt on, and feathers glued to my back underneath the trench.  So even after the parking fiasco, it was an amusing night.

Interesting though, the guy was a charmer.  Very confident man.  Or should I say... a CON MAN!  *dun Dun DUNNNN*  and that made it a fun exchange.  It was a power play, a psychological sales pitch, and the guy was good.  Rico the pimp.  =)
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