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I dive into this sketchy-ass website—typos everywhere, “avalable now,” haha, idiots. Found this chick, “Candy,” real name prolly Susan or somethin’. Little known fact, dude—back in the ‘90s, prostitutes used pagers! Freakin’ pagers, man, like drug dealers! Anyway, I call her up, voice all shaky. She’s like, “50 bucks, half hour.” I’m thinkin’, “Sweet deal, yo!” Made me happy as hell—cheaper than my accountant pens!

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Thus, a politics of sexual redistribution may be needed to get a politics of recognition off the ground. For practical purposes, then, virtually all real.

So, I finally give in. We head to this ramen spot, and OMG, it’s packed! The smell hits me like a freight train. I’m drooling. We wait in line, and I’m just thinking about how I’m gonna get back to work. But then, I see this cute girl in front of me. She’s got this killer smile. I’m trying to play it cool, but inside, I’m like, “Dude, don’t mess this up!”

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