HALF WAY TO OUR PH.D. THESIS ON HALF WAY HOOKERS

Ok so after a friend sent me this:

I asked the great Googley Moogley to find, "The Half-Hooker Economy" and thought "ugh great, MORE hooker half-assedry". But before reading the long ass article, I read this blurb:

“But Woods found a way to enjoy the best of both worlds in one type of woman, a Venn diagram of sexual satisfaction. Most of his mistresses lived in a nebulous in-between world. Not prostitutes, no, but just about half way there. As surely as he has changed the game of golf, so too has Woods exposed the grazing ground of the half way hooker, and her natural habitat, the nightclub.”

...and thought, "ughhh great, MORE Tiger Woods full-assedry".

And then... hold up wait a damn fancy minute, did you write....A HALF WAY HOOKER???? Now, in this context it's used as a classification to define different levels of hookerdom. Like a sliding social slut scale, as it pertains to wealthy powerful men and the women who tend to their "VIP needs", primarily in a nightclub environment.

I didn't read anymore of the article, because, duh... snoozeville. Instead I immediately had thoughts of mentally unstable hookers... ones found wandering the echo-echo-echoing (thanks R Kellz) halls of a mental institution. It made me want to discover new untapped species of hookerati. Perhaps a Crazy Eyez Killah hooker... A psychopathic transgressive OCD hooker... A tourettes tranny hooker (this is my movie/book/everything idea and if you steal I will beat you like your toothless cane waving pimp)... Pill-poppin schizophrenic hookers... A looney bin full of deranged hookers!!!!

Imagine the bedazzled lace hospital gowns over neon push-up bras.... gold Vuitton logo fleece sock booties... feather boa trimmed hair caps... I can't stress hair extensions enough... and gobs of make-up like a kid scribbled your face into Courtney Love with a giant ass bag of fancy ass half-chewed skittles. Can you taste the vodka-infused rainbow?

Maybe there'd be a few poles by the nurse station and a Hollywood Blvd hallway to make them feel more at ease. The supply closets filled with lube, anal beads, pills, and Tiger Woods blow up dolls instead of bed pans, IV drip bags, extra pillows, and catheters. "Cawk n ballz wanna kissss meeee" drunkily written down a wall in Avon's "redlight district" lipstick after the last group therapy session. A kid being dragged to visit their "distant aunt" (mom), would think they just walked into the Big Top tent... cue circus music and animal shit smell please.

I got excited that Fancy Inc might one day stumble upon this undiscovered hidden hooker lair.... like we were dragon questing in 1310, or plunging fishing traps for mermaids and Nessie off our boat, the SS Fancy N Freeeek.

But alas, it's fuhgettaboutit unlikely.

The looney bin full of deranged hookers sits easily on my lap and costs about $2500 new from the Apple store. I don't have to hunt very hard. This brand of crazy isn't confined to any institution, unlike nuns and their vows to the G-O-Dillz. It runs free, runs loose, runs a'plenty in our streets and on our internets, for our ever-lovin hooker entertainment.

So let's CELIBATE! I mean celebrate. C E L E B R A T E.

Where's the champagne at damnit...

*burp*