November 21, 2002 @ 11:44 p.m.
Sexpo, again

Stu and I think we may be able to fix the bed. I hope so. Sleeping on a mattress on the floor is getting really old, and I'll headbutt the next person who comments that it's so student-like of me.

Melbourne Sexpo has rolled around again, but I'm not enjoying working at it nearly as much as I did last year. Possibly because the woman I'm working with is a bitch and has an attitude problem that's almost as bad as her facial hair problem (but not quite). I'm pimping vibrators. Or attempting to. Business was slow today, but then it usually is on the first day. I'm working tomorrow night from 5pm until closing time, so that should be more interesting and fun-filled. Also, I found out completely by accident that one of my best friends will be working at a stall near mine, so that will be good.

I'm not sure if I have little to recount because it was a boring day or because the adult retail industry in general has become so ho-hum to me. I think it's more the former, although a bit of the latter is in there as well. If anyone knows of any jobs that are likely to hire someone with a decent knack for customer service, but a really bad case of potty-mouth, let me know. Sigh. Le Job Hunt is going stiflingly bad.

About the most interesting thing is that on the train trip there, which takes less than 20 minutes, I was hit on by three ugly old men, and on the walk to the station after Sexpo was hit on by another younger but no less ugly man. My mojo must be rising. Either that, or I should stop wearing tight white tank tops when I'm going to be using public transport.

Speaking of dodgy behaviour on public transport, last weekend some bitchy little slut started feeling up my boyfriend's knee RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. I only let the whorefaced slag get away with it because she was about 18 months old, and because her mum quickly pulled her back while making a "tsk" noise. But sheesh, she's going to be getting into a lot of catfights when she gets older, take it from me. Not all girls are as tolerant as I am when it comes to other women rubbing up their men.

Oh, I wish I'd thought at the time to make snide remarks about how Stu attracts much younger women, or how I don't have to worry about him molesting children because the children are getting there first. Although voicing the latter would have no doubt made for a very uncomfortable train trip.

I turn twenty next week, an occasion that will be celebrated with good company and excessive boobage on my part. You'll wish you were there. My friends will probably wish they weren't.

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