Kill Your Televison: Part VIII

I started watching Pleasure For Sale on the Sundance Channel about a week ago. I just watched my second episode of it and I feel like I need a shower. It's about the Chicken Ranch in Pahrump where the only thing weirder than the prostitutes are their customers. The first episode I saw had a dude who was in love with his prostitute and started crying when talking about how he had pursued a relationship with her and she wouldn't do it. She would, however, take money from him and fuck balloons because he got off with balloons. Makes that Erin Gray in Buck Rogers spandex jumpsuit thing that I have look tame.

So, then there is the prostitute who had a husband. That was kind of weird. I'm into trusting someone and I'm into letting an individual that I care about spread their wings and express themselves sexually, however, fucking dudes for money is a dealbreaker. You can totally add that one to the list. I think it goes beyond the "cheating" thing and goes to the level that I feel it is a disservice to all parties involved to fuck someone for personal gain while faking any type of connection. Yeah, I'm a softie deep down. That's the big con. Tricking the dumb man into thinking that you care about him. That's why the guy is really there, I have to imagine. A guy who finds himself with a prostitute has a hole in his life that is in need of some patching and I don't think a romp with a stranger is going to help at all, but I'm no Psychologist nor stranger romper.

Just as women get into porn, stripping, prostitution because of something really shitty that a man they trusted most likely did to them, men are there, too waging some type of revenge on the opposite sex. It's a collection of unresolved problems and issues preventing a person or persons from truly living a fruitious life. Yes, strippers love money the way ducks love bread (thanks, Tony), but I think the money affords them the freedom they need to distract them from the core issues that haunt their souls whether that be cocaine or sweats with writing on the ass of them.

Now, I don't know shit about anything and I'll be the first person to let you know that, but at least I know that I don't know. That's the first step towards learning. I do know that I'm not a huge fan of strippers ever since I got to know a few in college. They all had potential to be totally normal and some of them could even have been girlfriend material because they were super hot, but that's where everything stopped. You need so much more as a person than a nice rack and good hair. There's humor, intelligence, self-esteem, the ability to deal with Nazi's-looking-into-the-ark-and-melting stressful situations.

Yes, she must look good in a bathing suit and fit well with you on a couch in a pair of sweats while it rains, but she also must be able to beat you in Scrabble and look at you and go "Fuck you. You're totally wrong. I'm Googling that."

Instead, these beautiful girls would be in the bathroom when I got home from work stuffing themselves full of pharmaceuticals. I think that's what was going on. I kind of didn't even want to know what was going on at 3:00 AM on a Sunday morning. I just kind of had to use the restroom and noticed that they would be in there for a while.

About a year ago I did find out about one of them wiping herself with our hand towel because there was no toilet paper in the bathroom. The information came from a dude in a tree who was looking in through the bathroom window and is one of the creepiest, but funny stories I had heard in a while. She was hot. I don't think she was up a tree and peek in the window hot, though.

Do not mistake any of this rant as misogyny. I don't hate prostitutes, strippers and the like. I find it disappointing that a person is at that place in their life. I feel the same way about 45 year old guys at Best Buy. In a perfect world everyone could be a fireman or an astronaut. In a perfect world the homeless would be clean shaven and smell like cucumber lotion from Victoria's Secret. In a perfect world there wouldn't be the need for people to sell themselves and there would be someone for everyone like they say in books. Huey Lewis had song called Perfect World, didn't he? Yep. 1998.

So, back to the show. There have been two episodes that I've seen and a prostitute has cried on both. They really aren't that hot and I can't believe the clients. The idea of sitting in a double wide and looking at a lineup of dive bar chicks just sounds horrible to me, but at least I got to see the process without actually going to one of those places. Finally, I guess I'm looking forward to next week's episode.