Archive for the 'racism' Category

21
Aug
11

Before you get vomited out, you must first pass through the belly of the beast

it’s official.  i hate sex work right now.  and i think i have for quite a while now.

but i am not trying to “get a job” either.  I am working hard on my art, submitting proposals, actively seeking new opportunities on a full time basis, doing the work to become the artist I want to be, as Gandi would say.  I wish that I wasn’t such an idealist, i am so suprised it hasn’t been burnt out of me.  I remember this feeling of nausea, of hatred of each day…of the impatience at the same shit on a different day.

2 bum calls and one Black guy who had such scary energy I was super glad I got out of there when I did and not a second sooner.  He was the kind of man who looked like he wanted to kill me but couldn’t find a reason to.  I shined all my golden light into him but he never received me.  He was evasive and didn’t want to answer my questions and he had the death look in his eyes.  This death look is what you see when you think someone could kill you.  You may have seen this gaze in a lover or a partner’s eyes before.  I’ve seen it before.  Nothing that I could say, me the master of de-escalating myself out of violence over and over again, was going to make this guy WARM UP to me.  And that was what made me nervous.  I did not want to have sex with him.  I upsold the sex so he wouldn’t do it.  The truth was I was sick to my stomach of Asiaphile Black dudes with their Asian fetishes and varying annoying personalities.  I did a hand job/body rub with one and then actually turned down his money because I just would not allow myself to sit through a situation where I would feel molested for money again.  At least not in such a short period.  Is it their racist imperialism?  Or is that I can’t stomach faking it more than once.  I’ve concluded that that was part of it.  I actually kind of HATE regulars.  And the guys that I am actually attracted to, I just end up trying to date or discount and so it doesn’t really last long either way.  But fucking the same dude that I didn’t like the first time gets super hard for me pretty quickly.  I remember doing mushrooms with one of my sugar daddies who insisted saying “I love you” to me all the time and I literally started vomiting.  It was a great way to get out of having to be close to him or have sex with him.  I chose to hang out with my best friends instead of make $1500 a day.  They thought I was crazy.  They were worth more to me though.  I know more than ever since doing so much sex work what in this life is PRICELESS and what is not.  I knew i couldn’t stomach him anymore is why.  Throwing up was the last resource I had.  I used that money well.  But it’s gone now.  I launched my solo theatre show with it and funded a cabaret.

This Black guy wanted me to be his personal travel assistant, around the world rubbing his shoulders, Thailand, Japan.  Bleah.  That would be my equivalent to sex slavery.  I can barely work a regular job with a boss., let alone be a sugar baby for longer than a week.  My true colors shine through and I throw off their patriarchal (they usually can’t help it, they’re in their 50s) shackles and usually walk out with my last donation liberated and relieved.

I drove to this tweaker’s house 30 minutes away and the way he talked to me was so cold.  He did not care that he had wasted my time.  He didn’t have weed, or a beer to offer me, nor gas money for my time.  He wasn’t going to give me shit.  just a bongful of shit.  Bleah.  No thank you.  I just gave that up for the last time, nasty horrible fucking shit.  I won’t even try it for kicks like I used to.  Sometimes I would do it just to see if it would do anything for me.  I would take it in a few hits and marvel about how I felt nothing, compared to a few hits of smoking a bong of weed.  I was boggled by how much power it had over so many people!  I use it as a tool of hopeless self injury when I have done it, not in the ways of how many tweakers use it.   I tried to understand the mind of a tweaker but I could never do it.  I am too strong and healthy.   Never again.  The vultures they call you to partake, they have no intention in paying you.  Just getting you high and fucking you to death.  I’m so sick of all the toxic drug addicts.  I am no longer content to just take their money and exploit their addictions, because this becomes my addiction too.  It’s a form of codependency that I have…and I am trying to kick it…Because the nature of SEX WORK includes dependence on money, it a really hard addiction to kick, especially in my personal economy when love and money are in constant need.

When you are doing sex work with a partner that you despise and you hate every second that they are intimate with you, it feels like you are being molested.  (I have only been date raped so I can only imagine this is what it feels like).  Me, the survivor is always trying to push myself to the limit, to the edge….I have pushed myself for nearly 5 years now and now I would like to be done.  I have danced with the devil and burned in the belly of the beast, fought off its invitations, corruptions, and henchmen.  I have seen my potential and realized some of my dreams with this work.  I have fought hard to create normalcy and justice for myself, for other sex workers who hated me, for those that never knew.  I’m done.  But i’m just done in my head, because as you know this transition can take months or years.  I did almost transition in 2009 when I was on probation, I quit one of my agencies and had a hard time of going indy and faced the famine which led to the nearest I have ever come to suicide in my life.  I have NOT truly considered it since but i often use it as a reference point so it concerns people sometimes. I was on probation, had just lost my teaching rights and just ended a horrible relationship and quit swop-la the first time.

My facebook friend Wendy Babcock recently died.  They said she committed suicide but I don’t believe it.  She was alive and well when I was “talking” to her through her facebook posts. She was actively writing, being interviewed, doing activism and reaching out to me.  Not the kind of person who is hopeless, depressed or suicidal.  Perhaps we don’t really know what suicidal really looks like then.  It scares me.  She was born on May 29.  We have the same birthday.  When she died, a part of me died too.  She was a valiant sex worker activist in Toronto, Canada.  She and I had just connected on how negative I felt about sex work and she was a thread of hope and support for me in this time when I do need it and continue to need it.

I am trying to date men and women on various internet dating sites with very little luck.  I am experimenting with telling them I am a sex worker on the second date.  I don’t blast it in my profile.  I used to just say, fuck you, i am a sex worker, love me or leave me!!! but the kind of men I attracted were just losers and abusers so I thought I’d try a different approach…

last nite someone stood me up and I knew it was NOT about me but it just bummed me out hard because I have been working so hard on creating these loopholes, revising my profile, trying to ease someone into the idea of dating a sex worker, testing the boundaries by talking about porn, hiding the true details, accentuating the minor into major to cover up the sex work…

there are still good days and good clients.   great clients and good times to ease the pain.  thank the universe for that.   Unlike my stripper days, I am older and wiser and I know how to take good care of myself better…but it is still hard.  I am single and dealing with this on my own.  It is sort of unfair to bring a new romantic date into my chaotic mix because I am really negative and emotional…it’s hard not to just unload on someone that I want to just hold me…

I think my reverse escorting days are done too.  I tried to make it work time and time again, but in the end, it never did.  It was just a long, drawn out, unpaid or low paid session.  I was never their girl.  Never qualified and they let me know it.  In Gun Hill Road, the trans woman character (who is not a sex worker) has a lover that just fucks her but won’t take her out to restaurants or movies.  Sadly, I could identify with my last lover that I would find myself gushing wetness under every month.  twice a month at most. I knew it was abusive.  But more self abusive though.  I was complacent in going over there and indulging in what he was offering.  I do not blame myself at all because I WAS better off than alone.

I still stay in their arms if they’re decent and willing and we are exchanging good energy.  I ended my 9 month unhealthy affair with the above mentioned former client turned lover who was really just a PnP addiction.  It was just a little bit of money, lots or orgasms, affection, and a little bit of drugs.  I trained him to go from 0 to hero in 3 sessions.  I used to hate having him go down on me and soon i begged for it.  9 orgasms was the most I’d had in perhaps ten years!  Do you blame me?  In my 30s, the combo of sex love magic stays in my body and warms my spirit for a good 24 hours afterwards.  I don’t remember being that conscious of it in my 20s of even having the kind of relationship I have to body and energy as aI do at 35.

Gay boys and hookers PnP for the same reason.  Toxic people, mutual loneliness, trying to live up to beauty and sex machine standards, remnants of past trauma and the emotional deficit collide.  he didn’t call me for the last time and I wanted to injest him for the last time until he cut through my veins and caused every muscle in my body to hurt and tense up in soreness for over a week.  And then I blocked him from being able to call me (My wireless carrier allows you to do that now! I wished they had this service when the crazy white trash girlfriend was texting me cussng insults once she found out i was fucking her man).

I did a cathartic sort of Amy Winehouse-esque memorial ritual the weekend she was found dead and I learned that I was stronger than letting your addictions kill you.  stronger than drug addiction.  stronger than sex work.  stronger than rape. robbery. arrest.  racism. conspiracy theories.  mental illness.  rape culture.  pimps.  I’ve learned my lessons and it is time to move to a different chapter.

01
Jun
11

This show must b blessed! (All the whores haven’t burned alive at the SF Sexworkerfest2011)

I hate when i get too busy to post. In the headquarters of the San Francisco sex worker fest. Pre show work mode madness. I have had to miss out 2 cool fun festival events so far. Last night was the opening party and St. James Infirmary benefit. Tonight was the roaming Hookerfest projecting movies in various locations in SF. I got to see old friend/activists who all congregate around Scarlot Harlot..

reading and inculcating my brain of 9 pages of script lines at my favorite SF eatery Chows in the Castro (bread pudding and ginger ice cream?)

I feel like I am on some crazy scavenger hunt like reality show (Work for P Diddy?) where everything that can go wrong will go wrong and you are left to make the best of what you have to work with and very very little time to get it done. Somehow, the DVD I burned for the my theatre show, burned all alias files instead of original files so I had to get my neighbor to give my friend, who happened to be traveling to SF the morning after I arrived for a non sex worker festival reason. With my harddrives in her car, heading past Magic Mountain, one hour outside of LA…her 21 year old friend’s car…BREAKS DOWN! Because they were 21, they couldn’t rent a car so I had to scramble on craigslist to find a rideshare ride to pick up the hard drive. Someone who does regular trips up and down the coast agreed to do it for $75. This meant I would have my harddrive in my hands by evening time. It was probably going to be okay, but I still made the driver of my drives text me every 3 hours just to make sure they hadn’t crashed.

NO MORE BIG DISASTERS. I apparently survived judgment day. Too busy to put dry ice in my shoes but I thought it was a fun idea.

Overall, things during the week went smoothly. I came and did my first long theatre run of my solo show “Modern Day Asian Sex Slavery: the musical.” I felt like it was a big success. Well, let me qualify that, it was a big success to me. Not a white middle class privileged version of success. I didn’t have a line around the corner or 100s of people there. I didn’t sell out shows or make lots of money. I did work very little to bring in the 15-20 heads that showed up to pay $15-20 each night for the Sex Worker Film and Arts Festival and that was a success to me (more a success of the festival and Carol Leigh’s hard work). I saw LOTS of very important people in my life come out to support. I got a great editorial piece in the SF Weekly about it the night of the show. This was a huge success to me considering that even in sex worker savvy San Francisco, an Asian sex worker speaking directly about the perception of Asian sex work is still mostly absent in the media and mainstream communities. When Gavin Newsom orders raids on massage parlors, my Asian American SF State UC Berkeley City College sisters are actually nodding their heads in approval thinking that they are saving victims.

I had a political and artistic interpretation to communicate and I did that with a very targeted audience which was mostly empathetic to the cause. I’m positive that my show and working with me made an impact on two young interns at the CSC who happened to also be women of Asian descent, one just home from college to volunteer and learn! This definition of success is how I have always done my sex worker and artistic activism, because the mainstream definition has not always been an option for me and I have had to reshape it accordingly in order to keep having the motivation to believe that my work ALWAYS makes a difference in the lives of SOME people out there. It is how I motivate myself to continue to try. I don’t do it for the money or because it is a popular cause, that’s for sure.

This way of defining success comes from my time as a teacher with ‘at risk’ high school students. I had to find value in the short one on one, interpersonal relationships that I sometimes had with my students. There were many students that I would form a bond with and suddenly after 3 weeks or 2 months they would disappear. They may have dropped out, been shot, transferred to another school, kicked out, sent to juvenile detention, etc. Was your impact on this student successful? Yes. The social justice school of Education cohort that I was taught in would say yes. I still live in the neighborhood that I once taught in, and am now adult friends with several of my former students. To me, one of the marks of a good teacher is how much current and former students keep up with them outside of class. This is how I was mentored by the teachers models (professors) that I had. Social justice education/outreach is about interpersonal impact and often transient but significant teachable moments. White middle class education and success means getting a diploma and a “good” job.

I made this show a friendship test of sorts. This was a big artistic milestone in my life and my 35th birthday and you kind of needed to be there for this or say something about it, if we were really friends. I understand people are busy but it was a 4 day run and I at least expected a text message or Facebook message excuse. If I heard nothing, then I felt that the bond that I had with those that I had invited could not be that strong. I have been recently grappling with figuring out who my real friends and support network really were, since my asthma attack at Dinah Shore. I have been grappling with the meaning of Facebook friends and status updates, I have been arguing with the members of SWOP-LA. (which I recently cut all ties to).

I have begun taking St.Johns Wort (SJW) for “mood stabilizing” and it has really made extremely difficult and tense situations seem lucid and manageable. I am the newest victim to big Pharma because of the asthma medication that I need seems to think charging folks $180 for a months supply is fair. (considering millions of people need it in order to breathe, insurance does not cover it, and no generic version is available). I am resistant to being dependent on any prescription medications that are not herbal. My counselor suggested that I consider taking anti-depressant pharmaceuticals and I went as far as the intake appointment and paid $15 for it. It went nowhere because I was disqualified for being a counseling client elsewhere even though the place that I currently went had no psychiatric services available. Counselors and therapists are pseudo monogamous relationships. If you cheat on your mental health professional because you simply need more support, you need to keep it on the DL. The SJW caps I take most afternoons seem to be doing the trick. In the pits of my recent depression, I felt that not even cannabis was helping. I was willing to try new things, but hoped that I could try less harmful or expensive things first and they would work. SJW is supposed to inhibit the effectiveness of your other medications, particularly the ones that use your liver somehow. I noticed that my edibles did not fuck me up the way they used to! I noticed that my alcohol tolerance was MUCH higher. Mostly I noticed that the need to burst into tears or be apathetic or be overly self critical seemed to quiet down.  The potency of the words of others and any criticism seemed to just glide past me, especially if I had already processed it to be false or unfounded.

Our minds and bodies are connected. My physical health is often determined by my mental health. My body cannot lie.

first pimpstress, madam, child trafficker of her own people, legendary high class courtesanMy kindergarten friend/prom date Jon did the spot light for me (he has stepped up to help with tech stuff at other musical productions of mine in high school too!) and my 9th grade boyfriend/FIRST sexual partner was there too! My sister and her partner came, my dad came out to TWO shows and lots other friends and fellow activists as well.  A non English speaking Chinese man looking for a underground gambling hall also gave his $15 donation to see my show though he probably couldn’t understand it! The new Center for Sex and Culture space was a squatted in unleased building used for Chinese born Chinese gambling circuits complete w/ a piss trough and brothel rooms! He was like a relic from the Gold Rush days offering his support for my revitalized legacy!
Eventually the show is going to portray Madam Ah Toy, the legendary Gold Rush era madam, the first Chinese/American whore revolutionary. This guy kind of reminded me that San Francisco’s Chinese immigration history, including its history in “sex trafficking and slavery” includes the historical account of Madam Ah Toy, notorious and respected Chinese prostitute that somehow managed to have white privilege in ways that even other white women and even male Chinese (coolies) did not.

02
Oct
09

Pimps and Vultures

Settling into my office chair, medicating and trying to make sense of the anxiety and apathy I feel this afternoon.  I cashed a check from one of my few regular rent paying benefactors and turned in a partial payment to my property manager.  I’ve been paying the late fee and paying 60% of my rent on time for the last 4 months.  Sometimes it takes me up to 2 weeks to make $300.  Somedays I go for 7-8 days without income.  Last month, I paid the rent with the money the guy who crashed into my car gave me and a $175 focus group.  And it wasn’t in full or on time.  Yesterday I think I threw in my minds towel.  I hate not being able to afford to eat a small pizza and drink wine at a restaurant that I am trying to clammour onto the stage list to sing a song with the combo that has been hired for that night’s jazz open mic.  I go to venue after venue trying to get on stage this way, and it is never guaranteed.

I got caught trying to ditch the pizza and wine bill last night.  I played it off like I was going outside to take a phone call but the waitress caught on and ran after me.  “Are you going to settle your tab?” she said.  “Oh, my bad.” I said reaching into my pocket for the last $20 bill I would have for who knows how long.  I felt inclined to steal from the owner who was heavily flirting with me and had comped me a house cock-tail while I waited for my turn.  It was what I needed and more.  I would love to just be holed up in some room somewhere with some dude doing lines and getting wasted instead of try to figure out whether I would ditch my restaurant tab so I could fill my gas tank and get home from the Valley.

The restaurant owner was also a vocalist.  It was like he knew what I was about, pulled his chair up next to me and asked me what I did…I always accept propositions, especially from potential tricks.  And if they sing and own restaurants but are still sleazy then I automatically try to work them.  Heterosexual and in your 40s, flirting with me is like stoking my hustlers fire and begging me to ask you for money.  I used to be sooo good at ditching the bill when I was younger.  Not that I’ve done it a lot.  Especially not in the ten years that I’ve been doing sex work, it seems like money has never been so scarce.  I was embarassed a bit that I got caught, but the residual feelings just turned into anxiety which woke me up at 6am…How bad are things in your life when you have to steal food? But I’m stealing access to the social network which makes me feel and be normal instead of the gold digging thief that I just proved myself to be.  But I was hungry, there was a 2 drink minimum and I needed the wine to calm my nerves before going up there.  And driving home with your fuel lite on means that you need gas like you need food.  But you could do nothing and stay home.  and not sing.  and not drink and not try.  that’s what fake sister would say.  Or real sister perhaps.  The I love you card idea did NOT go over well.  It was a disaster.  My sister who lent me money is only really capable of that.  She does not want to dialogue with me in any sort of emotional way, became attached to her significant other at age 17 and has been able to be more involved in that family and now her own instead of ours for almost 20 years.  I asked her to say one positve thing about me.  She said,”Nena (her daughter) says you make nice presents and she lets us play games on her phone..” I was talking about how she always made me feel like a pathetic loser earlier.  I said,”I know that the kids love me, but can YOU?”  and if it wasn’t one or two word answers as her response, she said,”Stop texting me.  I’m watching D (her son’s) game.”  No reciprocation.  No support.  Yes, she gave me $500.  But that’s the kind of loving supportive environment I was raised in.  That’s the relationship I have with money and love and survival and why I have become the urban geisha.  All of the most famous ass kicking trailblazers in entertainment have the need to find LOVE from an audience or a greater entity than their family.  Michael Jackson said “I just wanted to be loved.” in his tapes.  Jenna Jameson.  Madonna.  All of them had dysfunctional emotionally blind parents who never acknowleged their gifts so they had to go above and beyond them to prove to themselves and the world that they were worth loving…

When I was losing my virginity with my first boyfriend, my mom let him stay at my house almost every night.  So did his mom I guess, come to think of it.  My sister’s boyfriend’s were also always at home with us and my mom was at work always late at night trying to raise the family.  For that I give her the credit she is due, but her lack of interest in what her daughters were doing with their romantic and sexual lives during a crucial period in their development has also had a huge impact on who I am.  My mom is bad with setting boundaries, she never told our boyfriends to go home.  It’s no wonder I have a codependent boyfriend addiction today.  Some people think that because a mother or father did “their job” by birthing and raising you that they deserve unconditional love forever.  But I’m a big one on reciprocal love.  I love those that love back.  This is why I have Scarlot Harlot, my whore mother.  She talks about emotions and has mentored me out of the darkness, lent me money and far more than my real mother would ever dream of.

When I got my Master’s Degree from Graduate School, only my dad was present.  No one really cared or gave me credit for getting another degree or being a teacher.  It did not matter to them whether I was a teacher or a prostitute, so it’s not like I did it to rebel.  I got into the sex industry as stipper because my mother kicked me and my sister out of her house because we got tattoos.  My tattoo was of a magic wand and barbed wire to commemorate the pain of her rejecting me after I told her I had been sexually assaulted.    The family preferred me to be a teacher, I guess, but they didn’t really care either way.  Losing my apartment here and moving home to my sisters house to live with my mom would be the equivalent of emotional death to me.  I’d rather explore other options, like stab myself with an HIV+ heroin needle.   When I am out of pot and in the throes of depression, I have those thoughts.  My therapist says that they aren’t real plans but after having a pimp come to my house and try to hustle my soul, I think that no one really knows how thin the line is between sanity and insanity, between living and dying.  I work in the AIDS grocery handout program as part of my punishment for my prostitution conviction and I get to see all the people in LA dying and living with AIDS.  They stand in line weekly to get their “neccessities of life.”  Meat, milk, cheese, toilet paper, shampoo even.  It is more generous than the food stamp program that non AIDS residents get for sure.  I concur with them how great it is to have these necessities.  Being broke too I am so grateful when I can finally get money to get MY neccessities of life after going without for days.

I am in PURE  survival mode and getting away with it without getting caught was pretty much the name of the game as an agency escort, of which I spent my last 3 years in LA doing.  I’ve pulled twenty dollar bills out of the pockets of assholes that claim they don’t have money to tip me, and even though I was the wrong girl, I felt DETERMINED to get mine.  (think of the M.I.A song “take your money”).  I had gotten dressed and showed up goddamit.  These guys OWED ME something for my time.  And if I could get it, I would try.  Some of them begged me to hit them.  I put my foot in the door of his condo and he put his fingers on my middriff and pushed me back.  “Yes, I am putting my hands on you…what are you going to do about it?” I fancy he says…

FUCK THIS DRUG ADDICT UP.  He’d make a good punching bag.  Do it.

I am officially sick of always being broke.  This has to be the longest streak I’ve gone without caving in and going back to the agency PIMP or going back to the not solving anything with my pathetic codependent boyfriend (living off the avails without working=pimp) or even worse with a real Black PIMP from the LBC.   And every other day I am getting hit hard by the parking ticket police and/or by overdraft fees.  Taxing me.  STATE PIMPS.  Banking pimps.  City of LA pimps.  There is NO way to do community service in LA to work off your parking tickets.  If you can’t pay the $80 ticket, it doubles in 21 days and then caps off at $120.   I pay them so much more than I make and they are so good at keeping simultaneously poor and dependent on what they have.  (A bank account and the right to park and drive in the city).

I have a parking ticket DISORDER however.  I have no idea what is wrong with me.  I wish I could cure it.  I wish I could get a parking space by my house, that MIGHT solve the problem.  I was just sitting at my desk finally daring to look at how much I’ve accumulated in just ten months of driving and parking with anxiety, depression, frantic panic attacks (usually caused by getting tickets)..I currently owe the city $1100.  It is insane.  I could have gotten my wisdom teeth which are impacted and aching on my jaw everyday extracted.  If you are too poor to pay th original fee, you will be taxed TRIPLE. And eventually when you get 5 tripled tickets that you can’t pay then they drive around with a metal boot for your car, so you are forced to pay the tickets to get the boot off. Your choice?  Not drive or leave LA.  If the bank decides to fuck up your account by holding onto one charge just long enough so that your account overdraws in their favor, they will gladly hit you up with 5 overdraft fees in a row.  Too broke to pay your bills?  PIMPS LOVE THIS.  THEY ARE VULTURES.  Preying on the weary and the hungry.  Brainwashers and Liars.

Golddigging for sugar daddies on the internet will attract real pimps.  You can find them in the adult gigs section of Craigslist looking for their bottom (#1)  bitch..”Be in charge of the other girls.”  Pimps come in all colors and are usually MALE, when i refer to them.  Having a healthy distrust of Black male “clients” in the sex industry is generally a good idea especially if they are talking about spending money on you.  Real Black clients with money don’t front like that because of the pimp reputation that is already laid down.  Silent rules like DON’T do dates in your own hood, or going into bad neighborhoods. There is no anti-racism in your protective plan.  Just stereotypes and plain reality of your chances of survival.  I once took a bachelor party gig in the hood.  I wasn’t the dancer, I was the “security” LOL.  The dumb bitch I booked to dance did such a shitty job for all 12 of these Black guys, she nearly got us killed, but instead they stole back the money they paid us and none of us got paid.  But no one does Bachelor parties in the hood for a reason…the stereotypes are usually true.  This dancer was Black and she was too scared or lame to dance for them…that’s when you know you’re in trouble.  MOST Black sex workers don’t like Black dates.  If it isn’t because they know that there are a lot of Black pimps and they are already loyal to one, it’s because Black men have the rep of not tipping and being really really demanding for $1.

Legally, anyone who profits off of the avails of prostitution could be charged with pimping.  In that case, I was technically a pimp.  Therefore, every business a prostitute frequents could be her pimp.  Female management, madams are pimps if they EXPLOIT, LIE, BRAINWASH, IMPLANT FEAR, PHYSICALLY OR SEXUALLY ABUSE/ASSAULT, MANIPULATE WITH DRUGS OR OTHER DEPENDENCY, and INDULE IN HEARTLESS CAPITALISM UNDER THE FACADE OF SOMETHING MORE BENIGN (“democracy” or “eradicating terrorism” “protection” or “home”) or even NOBLE.

Stripclub Managers, their goon security, their entourage of VIP bitches, their illegal stage fees are all part of the biggest LEGAL non Black pimp game in the U.S.  Holding girls in the dressing room while management beats up a customer is PIMPIN.  Telling a stripper to come up to his office so she can work off her stage fee is PIMPIN.  Stage fees period are pimp shit.  Making a stage fee so high that a stripper HAS to fuck in order to pay it.  Lying Sack of shit mafia lawyers.  And it happens in every club across the U.S..PIMPIN SOOOOO EZ..

Not all sex industry managers have to pimp.  But some always do because they can.   Like those posters you see of home loans in Bank of America and Wells Fargo Banks.  “We’re Here for You.” they say. “We’re more than just your bank..”they say.  Yeah.  I say.  You’re my fucking PIMP.  You are a brainwasher and liar and you are TAKING MORE MONEY than I’m making in overdraft fees.  You are hindering my survival yet I am dependent on you.  And if you are the bank backed by the Federal Reserve and the Presidents word then pimpin IS EZ and it is done on the backs of those that can afford it the least.  And then there are the pimpable.  the vulnerable.  the addicted.  protective armour and boundaries were beaten or raped out of them, made weaker by addictions…the hopeless codependents looking for someone to lead their way even if it means taking all they make in exchange for housing and paying a little attention to them, enticing the carrot of love in front of them…

Pimpin can also be a deadbeat boyfriend who makes a girl work in prosititution before his lazy incompetent rock star with a habit or aspiring mafioso plan can make some money to pay the rent or bills.  A manager who directly profits off of booking his girlfriend.  My exboyfriend may not have really like that I was a sex worker, but he lived off the avails, and at times was employed as my driver, my errand boy who would make a little money every time I made money, so he could not complain about anything.

Now the aforementioned Black pimp both IS and is not an urban myth.  As I’ve mentioned not all pimps wear hats and gold teeth (but some DO! FOR REAL!).  Some are even female.  Bella of Bella’s brothel and her daughter were exploitative pimps.  They loved to make the street workers NEED the brothel.  The same thing is happening with the current legalization movement in Nevada.  The brothel owners create a hysterical public outcry against “illegal prostitutes” so the the only viable option would be working in the “safer” and “cleaner” brothels.  All brothel owners ARE pimps.  Most of them men, one woman.  Dennis Hoff is a pimp.  Bella’s daughter showed me pictures of a bruised beat up worker who had gotten beat up by her trick once she dared tried to go “independent.”   Hue Heffner and his girls next door?  This fool is pimpin so EZ that he and his girls are socially acceptable to most middle American bachelorette party girls watching in envy as Kendra gets married to some football player..

So recently I talked to a Black pimp from the LBC who lured me in as a trick with money that he wanted to spend on me.  As soon as I call back the number the person who picks up hangs up.  This happens twice.  I give up. Then he calls back the next day and leaves a message, talking about his phone was messed up.  After the second time I decided to tell his sorry ass off on his voicemail because I was already at the end of my rope with internet time wasters as it is.  He tried to pimp me on the phone by trying to make me feel sorry for him, saying his wife died in a car accident and he hadn’t had sex with anyone for a year since she died!  He was trying to get into my soul,”What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you?” he said and even as I spill my guts to you on this blog, I didn’t tell him shit.  “Why are you so mean?” he said steady trying to move forward on me.  I was entertaining his dialogue as an enlightened hoe I guess, trying to lure HIM while he was trying to lure me into his spell, hoping that there would some money at the end of the rainbow.  At that time my internet connection was shut off so I couldn’t look up his name or phone number and see if anything came up.  The next morning he says he wants to come over and because I am desperate and need money, I agree.  Then at the last minute he changes his donation to drugs.  He has morphine and vicodin and now he is a medical student at UCLA he says.  Oh, then when you come over can I see your student ID?  Of course he had none of this.  When he comes over in his Black Mercedes Benz with the tinted windows and the child seat in the back he shows me the bottle.  I kind of knew they were vicodin but he told me they were oxycotins which have a street value of $80 a pill.  I didn’t have the internet so i couldn’t look up the code on the pill..He was here already and I needed money or product, because I currently had nothing.

I broke the #1 hoe commandment:

DON’T GET PAID IN JUST DRUGS.  Either get some cash or nothing.  Know the street value of what you are trading. (Are you having unprotected anal for a $25 bag of speed?)  Get the cash equivalent.  Tricks that try to play you like this are just trying to use you and make you their dependent or sell you drugs or both. Dealers can break you off because it’s cost is nothing to them, plus they get pussy from phenes for free…but that’s NOT you, right?

I’ve run across major drug dealers and trade sex for drugs AND some cash usually.  It’s a barter system.  I sell it to the next crack head I see for triple.  But I’m careful.  Last thing I need is a drug possession and sales charge.  I tax it triple and never carry it on me, that’s the only way.  Women who hustle drugs are usually hustling sex too.  The two games are intertwined for women.  Why? Because pussy IS power.  and weakness.  Once, I got about an OUNCE of OG Kush from a pot dealer who was also a former owner of a revolutionary bookstore.  I sure wished he would have been a regular customer, but most of the dealers that I’ve happened upon don’t return my calls or pick up once I call again.  I believe they were either trying to sell me just drugs hoping I was a phene or don’t want anyone to know where or who they are.  Having seen first hand the shitty deals that try to go down when people are not doing SEX WORK but are TRADING SEX FOR DRUGS ONLY is never the cash equivalent.  Once you are in a place where you JUST trading, then you’ve probably got a habit and are probably hanging out with TRICKS who have NO respect for you, your safety or your boundaries.  And that’s how prostitutes get so ragged and fucked up by drugs.

This pimp was no different.  Everything he said was a lie, and he was a racist Black fool with an Asian fetish.  But I humored him because I wanted money from him.  Not ongoing sugar daddy money for I knew by now that he was a pimp, as he asked me to come live with him during our first phone conversation.   LOL, When I actually think about it I don’t think the Black equivalent to sugar daddy really exists.  There are ONLY Black pimps who are usually the manipulators not the manipulatees, which a sugar daddy usually is.  Unless you count Russell Simmons!  When he walked towards my house he kept looking behind him and he looked out the window several times while he sat on my couch.  I fucked him for a bottle of vicodin.  $60?  not sure, because I didn’t have internet but whatever it was it was more than I had before he came over.  I snorted a line and it gave me a buzz, but he hurried me to the bedroom saying he had to leave which didn’t give my body enough time to digest it.

Was this pimp a king in the bedroom like the word implies?  No.  He had a tiny little dick and he was done in 10 minutes like the rest of the good tricks.  He saw a kiddie piano that I had had since my San Francisco days, acquired from a lover I had then.  “I’ll give you $50 for this.” he said.”My son will love this.” and as I knew that he was lying, I really really hoped that perhaps he wasn’t as desperate for SOME cash as I was.  “I’ll give it to you next time I see you.” he said. and for the same reason it was that I let him get as far as he did, he was out the door with it.  I let it go as I figured that if I lost my apartment I would be having ridiculous giveaway yard sales of stuff I’ve acquired from old lovers but never used.  And he had a 1 year old who was crying on the phone while he was talking to me and trying to get me under his spell, trying to make this pimp seem more benign, because he was a Black man who took care of his kids.  I figured that the boy would enjoy it more than me and I was just letting it gather dust.  He would say over and over,”You don’t have to be so mean.  I’m NOT trying to hustle you.” he said looking me straight in the eyes.  and I didn’t believe him, and resented him for trying to play me but in a little way I let him. But I was being mean in order to protect myself.  Femme domme bitch screening a sub.  I was taking on something that I knew was risky but I would try to see if I could get something out of doing it.  I like to talk to real pimps sometimes just so I can confirm their insane thinking so I can write about it in songs.   “Why are you so mean?” he’d say not knowing that it was men like him who made me meaner and meaner every damn day.  All the Black girls in jail bragging about their pimps.  The girl who would “fuck so hard for her daddy once she got out”….for the same reason I worked at a brothel and allowed myself to be pimped for a week, I enticed a pimp to my house even though I knew he was full of shit and traded sex for drugs and a baby piano.  Good work Ms. Passion.  It’s all for art!  at least..

I can be horribly weak with those that don’t respect boundaries and can manipulate a no into a yes like it’s an art.  This is how my exboyfriend stayed in my house for as long as he did.  This is how a submissive got me to buy a PC laptop to do a website that he never did.  Once I got internet access and realized that every single word and sentence that this man said was a big lie I knew that I lost my piano and I had just been had for a $60 bottle of pills.  I thought I had scored some good dope, but all I had was crappy painkillers that sell on the street for $5 each.   But that’s the game.   Sometimes you lose.  And sometimes you play with people that you know are playing you for one round, just to try to strengthen your game, but it ends up hurting you more usually cuz the game ain’t designed for winning.  But he didn’t hurt me.  I’m not a drug addict or as hopeless pimpable as some of the girls he preys on.  I don’t need love from just anyone, especially not someone that I can’t control easily…not that I have to be dominant always, which as you see I’m not, but this pimp was so manipulative..I put his phone number in my phone under SLICKBACK and watched how many times since that day he’s tried to ring my phone.  I’m done with him though.  I fear pathological liars actually and what I did with him went against my 10 hoe commandments and I didn’t even really come up for it.  The pills were weak, nothing to brag about.  And this loser who said he was a former NFL football player now had a belly, was unattractive and a horrible lay.  The little boy was probably bottom bitch’s kid that he “borrowed” for our phone conversation.  Even if I was homeless and living in my car, I wouldn’t live with him.  I won’t even let him through the phone call that I pick up.  I lost the piano.  I don’t even want to hear a false promise to lure myself back  into any sort of contact.  Pathological liar and heartless = scary.  Keep my piano.  I’ll get something for these pills.

Another vulture tried to get me to come over his house in exchange for some kush weed.  Swoop me up and give me drugs and drop me off the next day with $100 and a sore pussy?  Puuuleease.  I’m not that much of a pot or coke head.  I don’t even think pot can tempt you quite like crack or other drugs can like that which is why people don’t call it a drug.  I’d rather steal my dinners than give in to pimps and vultures…but that doesn’t mean that they don’t peck at my body while I lay here trying not to die..

21
Aug
08

DAY 4: 10 girls now, no dates yet

Today was a healthy day if anything. I did 30 minutes on the treadmill that they have in this room with the tanning bed, crunches and some exercises with the 5lb weights. I played the guitar and watched the winning Gold medal women’s volleyball game against China! I LOVE the olympics in case you haven’t figured out. it’s the only time that mainstream America is actually watching all these sports that I actually like. I don’t give a shit about basketball, football; I kind of like baseball but don’t follow it, but every four years America is watching swimming, gymnastics, volleyball and diving. These are all sports that I used to actually train and compete in high school or jr college (long ago..) so it’s really personal to me to be watching these matches. Everytime someone cries win or loose, I cry. Crying for me is like sneezing. If an actor in movie or an athlete on screen starts crying, so do I. It’s also the only time you will see me actually watching prime time television every night.

typical Nevada brothel line-up

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I have done multiple line ups and not gotten picked. I’ve done a couple of tours with guys who weren’t interested in “partying” or with one who pretended he only had $100. This really hot blonde girl from Reno gets picked a lot, a tall thin Black girl is doing really good here and a lot of older “down home sluts” who are older, heavier but have what I’m thinking are trucker girlfriend looks–are also pretty popular today. Getting picked is totally random, not based on race, age or body weight but so far, does not include me.

I sold a SWOP-LA t-shirt at least to a guy I took on a tour who was buying up Bella’s t-shirts by the armful. At least I made $20 today.

So far on the CB there every day there are either really hateful guys who are either racist when I’m on (sucky, sucky, me love you long time comments) or “shut up you stupid fucking whore cunt bitch!” which is crazy because these guys walk through the door and I know that this is the group that they are coming from. The other extreme is the literally Holy Rolling trucker who starts preaching the gospel to block us from advertising. Both the local brothels on this block do this every other hour. There is a script to read and we all take shifts doing it.

The girls in the house has increased by 4 and now there are at least 10 of us in line ups which makes it even harder to snag the 2 guys that come through the door every other hour. Looks like its going to be a late night up again. A couple came through this afternoon and she picked the only black girl in the house, who I’ve befriended a bit. I gave her some of my dental dams to prepare for her date, but they never came back. A lot of the girls refuse to do couples and a lot of them do not know anything about domination even though we have an equipped dungeon in the house, which seems to freak out most of the guys that have come through. I’m hoping a sub comes through the door so I can snag him.

Aunt D announced that T, someone who had worked recently overdosed after her abortion and was dead. She started to cry in front of us before line up and it was a very shocking sad start to the day. I didn’t know T, but its always tragic to me when a fellow sex worker falls.

Some of the girls started whispering in front of me so I just walked back to my room so they could talk their shit out loud. I’m trying not to get sucked in to any girl drama, but I always have been a target for some bitch without anger management to feel that she has to confront me. I’ve not yet gotten into a fight even though plenty of girls have gotten in my face and wanted to (but not in the last 10 or so years). There used to 6 or 7 of us and most of us were nice, but now I fear that the estrogen chemistry is about to change.

One of the girls kept saying ‘faggot’ and fag boy and fag over and over again so I had to call her out on it. I did so very calmly and non confrontational like I have done many times as a high school teacher and Gay Straight Alliance advisor. “Wow. You’ve used the word fag like 10 times in just 1 sentence, that’s pretty amazing.” I said. “It seems like you don’t like fags.” I said as I was getting hot water for my tea. “does that bother you?”she said as I was walking away. But me and her have been cool so I didn’t know if my intervention would be considered a confrontation, nor do I know if it would make my rep worse in the house or not.

11pm. no dates so far. at least my cervix gets to heal up.

14
Dec
07

I’m sorry sir, you must have thought that GFE meant STD!

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The GFE acronym in the escort world has come to be known as the “Girl Friend Experience” which is another one of those lovely ambiguous codes for one or many multiple sex acts that occur with prostitutes and their clients have sex for money but are trying to mask their real intentions by using codes like GFE, “full service” and more. Some of them are really explicit as seen in this email between potential client Lance and I, as he lays out all of his expectations for a 2 hour appointment for $500.

after I emailed him my standard discreet reply about how $500 includes a massage with a full service experience of some kind..LANCE: Let’s see Not interested in a massage… waste of time. Full service should include:

  • GFE- Girlfriend Experience
  • DFK- Deep French Kissing
  • DATY- Dine at the Y
  • BBBJTCIM- Bareback Blowjob to Completion In MouthMultiples ((he means I should allow him to cum several times for the price of once))
  • Greek ((ANAL SEX…probably without a condom for Mr.Lance, but Greek itself just means Anal))

I think the above could interest me for a 2 hour appointment. Let me know if it scares you away.Thanks.  MP: i don’t exchange fluids with strangers.sorry.L: That’s cool. I was only able to find one luke warm review on TER. ((NOT TRUE! it’s a fucking 8/10, which is great, even though I hate the review system))  I guess Porn Star Experience(PSE) isn’t on the menu. Oh well good luck with business.MP: that’s EXACTLY it. That’s a great acronym. I’m going to write about it on a blog! Ha. How can you imagine that someone that you don’t know would allow you to cum in her mouth? Of course there are people that WILL always do it. But you aren’t monogamous to ME, as I am not to YOU, nor are we going to get tested together and stay monogamous…so essentially you are asking me to risk my life. It’s like playing russian roulette with semen. Are YOU willing to do that, if I give YOU $500? Okay, then if so, I will let you drink a vial of someone else’s semen and then we’ll be at an even risk.

L: How ironic you fuck for a living and paranoid about diseases?

I’ve heard everything. Take up a different line of work. Oh, with one review on TER and you sell pussy… give me a break. Business must be slow or not worth the price of admission.You have probably been out there a lot longer than your reviews. Under different identifications I guess. Reviews must be badddddddddd!!!!! You’re so special and want $500. I guess the piano lessons didn’t pay off. You keep your fluids and I’ll keep my $500.I could decontruct the power and race dynamics evident in his assumption that because I’m Asian and smarter than him, I must have taken piano lessons, because I “sell pussy” I should give him whatever the fuck he wants, “multiple” times, and kiss him with tongue after he fucks my ass without a condom and cums in my mouth! Yay! And the scary thing like the fucking rest of the pathetic hobbyists on review boards like The Erotic Review who only rank girls a 10 if they are “really bi”, kiss clients on the mouth and of course, my favorite “BBBJTCIM”- Bareback Blowjob to Completion In Mouth…just like you saw in the movies, boys!!Too many men think that the “PSE”-porn star experience that Lance was fantasizing about, is on the menu with their girlfriends, dates, and hired whores! But it’s NOT! And don’t be surprised or offended if it’s NOT! Be thankful that your whore is paranoid about diseases! The Erotic Review encourages the spread of STDs by creating a ranking system that essentially rewards you for putting yourself (as the receiver) at risk, and punishes you by allowing clients to rate you poorly for not participating in unsafe activities. And then we get attitudes like old Lance here, who seems to be completely surprised that sex workers could even possibly be paranoid about STD’s?  ((And if you dear reader are trying to look me up in these review boards to sabotage me, Mariko Passion is not my working girl name, silly trick..)) I determine what is on the menu, when and if I get together with you, I have a right to maintain my boundaries and make those explicit with you …OR NOT. So what, if I put a condom in my mouth and slide it on at the last minute without telling you??LESSON 1 for those of you that didn’t know:Sex workers create FANTASIES. Porn portrays sexual fantasy.  Fucking without a condom, is a FANTASY for most.  Even oral fucking.  And there is some debate in the porn industry right now about using the 30 day STD test as a substitute for condoms. If you assume that everything should be on on the menu because you have paid me, you will soon learn an expensive lesson.  And if you think that YOU run the show as the client…and I should have some sort of corporate customer service attitude about you always being right or something, then I have a big dildo waiting to stick in your ass.I just can’t help but think about the girl who will finally allow him to live out his fantasy. Optimistically, I’d like to think that most of the girls out there will just laugh at him. But we never know..It’s always assumed that someone will allow more than you always. This is where the strength of our movement is crucial and peer education and sex worker empowerment programs not prevention and pity programs are more effective than anything…I realize with men like Lance why sex workers ARE the leaders or potential leaders in HIV/STD prevention OR how they could potentially be the catalyst for male privilege, sexism and the spread of disease, even though the spreading of the disease will disproportionately fall on that of the sex worker and continue to uphold the same stigma of being disease vectors that we have been fighting since the beginning of this old profession.

12
Nov
07

HELLO KITTY HAS NO MOUTH and Pimpin Ain’t Eazy

“Happy Endings, American Dreams” photomedia series by Mariko Passion, copyright 2007.

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The director of Girl Fest, Hawaii takes a stab at feminist critique of the We, Asian Sex Workers postcard seen in the post BELOW this one, which depicts one of the images that I did as part of the “Happy Endings, American Dreams” photomedia series above that I displayed on the ar+space gallery walls.

“…Notice how this girl on the flyer is made to be or at least look underage, wearing a Hello Kitty jacket– a popular youth logo. Keep in mind, Hello Kitty has NO mouth to speak for herself. This girl is sitting on a bed in a brothel. Below her are the credit card logos of visa and mastercard with the words “BUY FINE ART” in caps. This flyer is not only promoting the pimping and selling of young girls, it is COMPLETELY racist, perpetuation the hyper-sexual underage exotification of Asian women and girls.

To be clear, Girl Fest and I have been working for the rights and protections and services of women and girls with no economic option but to have their bodies sold for sex to survive. We want to get them out of the industry and help them heal. However, WE ARE COMPLETELY ANTI-PIMP and JOHN. We are firmly against the legalization and decriminalization of prostitution. This SWOP/APLE Pimp Lobby is subversively anti-woman, under the guise of the arcane term “Harm Reduction.”

Kathryn Xian and Girl Fest Hawaii (www.girlfesthawaii.org) which also ran a Girl Fest San Francisco the SAME week as the Sex Worker Film Festival and the WE, ASW art show represent the anti-prostitution position that believes that women and girls in sex work are not capable of self determination and that sex worker rights feminists are and should be called out for the PIMPS that they are. She uses Melissa Farley as her source for credible information on why prostitution is harmful. Farley believes that ALL sex work is forced prostitution/rape, all women in prostitution have been prostituted and are unable to consent due to their post traumatic stress disorder, and all male clients are rapists and need to be cured of their insatiable, morose desires.

So, Kathryn showed up at one of our University of Hawaii speaking gigs and called me and the rest of the APLE (Arresting Prostitutes is Legal Exploitation) a bunch of pimps, accused us of taking money from ‘the pimps’, and implying that we make underage girls lapdance at our lapdance fundraisers from SWOP. She was just waiting to throw her accusations at the end of our (Carol Leigh, Stacy Swimme and I’s) presentation, upon which she kept saying,”Hello Kitty has NO MOUTH, Mariko! She CAN’T speak for herself!!” and then in classic high school fight style, she stormed out saying “JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE A QUEER ASIAN FEMALE DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN’T BE A PIMP, MARIKO!! See you on Monday!” …leaving us to deconstruct her accusations without her….

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Before Kathryn’s beautiful illustration/performance of the unreasonable hostility anti-prostitution feminists embody when dealing with sex worker activists in feminist spaces like the Women’s Studies Coalition Meeting of the University, she had sent the above analysis in email blast to all the local feminist organizations. I was honored to have been the subject of her deeper examination. That, after all is the POINT of making GOOD ART. If I have made you THINK, (re)think, re-examine and converse about MY work–then I’ve done my job as a post-porn modernist (as Annie Sprinkle might say) artist.  Success!

and now for some thoughts, STRAIGHT FROM THE KITTY’S MOUTH:

First off, calling me a pimp is CRAZY! Not because I have not perhaps technically participated in what could be considered as pimping (I ran a failed escort agency, which never never profited off of prostitution, it was more like an expensive experiment in advertising debt) believe me, so I’m apt to think it wasn’t pimping). PIMP is a an amorphous, ambiguous, misused and misunderstood term that has a pop culture definition (big hat, feather, gold grill, cane..a Black man usually) and a LEGAL defintion (profiting off the avails of prostitution) which makes an escort agent, a stripclub manager, a boyfriend/partner/husband ALL technically able to call themselves pimps. Then there’s the pop culture def which is like the N WORD in that it’s used just as much in songs and movies but has been so far removed from what it originally was that it’s lost it’s meaning because of cultural appropriation and bastardization.  Just like with many racially weighted and charged words, like the N word.

What do people MEAN when they say the word PIMP? And what does it mean to call a SEX WORKER ACTIVIST a PIMP? And to say that in some way, we are being PAID by pimps is even more ridiculous, cuz if any of you know the rules of the game: REAL PIMPS GIVE THEIR MONEY TO NO ONE, especially not to [NO BITCH.]

Pimps and self determined, independent, outspoken prostitutes like myself and the rest of the activists on the speaking tour with me, would certainly not work together financially. We WISH we got funding for our activist efforts by other donors besides OUR CLIENTS. At best, in some situations, like with Pam from APLE who did street outreach for years in Waikiki to girls who DID have stereo typical pimps who wreaked stereotypical violence on their workers, the activists and outreach workers who worked on giving the sex workers some sense of POWER, LOVE AND FREE CONDOMS were at best, tolerated.

Hello Kitty was born and created in Japan in 1976, and is “made in China” these days, making her half Chinese and half Japanese and 31, JUST LIKE ME!! The girl in the image is made to imitate the many, many, faceless, long, black haired, shamed, trafficked Asian sex slave that she thinks I really am in that photo.

To be clear, I have been working on giving Hello Kitty a mouth my entire sex work activist career of 9+ years. In this sense, HK stands for the voices of Asian women’s sexuality, Asian feminism, Queer Asian women even. On a more personal note, I do IDENTIFY with Hello Kitty because of her childlike sexuality, it’s true. But that has always been a part of my specifically very hyper sexual, hyper ethnic style of art making and performance art; ever since I was known as the asian****… If Hello Kitty is the voice of Asian women, Asian sex workers, Asian culture then, in every way, with the work that I do, I try to give HK a MOUTH to speak for herself. We, ASW was a group show, not a solo exhibition and it featured the MOUTHS of many many Asian women from Bangladesh to Chicago, and it seems to me that anti-prostitution events like Girl Fest might do the opposite of allowing the Hello Kittys of the world to speak for hersel[ves].

13
Aug
07

We, Asian Sex Workers San Francisco 2007:: BIG SUCCESS.

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**CLICK HERE TO SEE
a COOL VIDEO from the show**




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