IT'S A WHORE-IBLE LIFE

Gotta love an entry that creates a new word for the ages, English teachers everywhere are scratching their computer screen, but hey what else are they gonna do? Ok before I delve into the sad and sorry life of an English teacher and bore everyone to snores, lets just get down to the topic at hand. I promised I would write about this and the time has come my friend. Let's talk about whores, junkies, street slurries, hookers, a pimps gravy train, the list goes on. I choose to talk about this little feature of daily life simply because there are heaps of them working around my place of employment. Actually, now that I think of it, they aren't really hookers, they are junkies who are desperate for their next hit and they are willing to sell the shit out of themselves just for another deal man.

"Yo fucko hit me up maaaaaannn, just one more time mother fucker"

Clearly I have no idea what they actually say as that sounds like some piss weak line from a forthcoming Keanu Reeves movie. You get the general idea. Anyway I have only been propositioned once before, very early in the morning whilst walking to work. She was a lovely creature, the sort of woman you could imagine looking after a brood of 20 kids, all of them complete nightmares slowly forging careers in all things illegal and all of them from different fathers who no longer featured in their lives. She just yelled out across the road.

"Oi love, you looking for a good time"

Being the complete fag that I am, I did a silent little fart in my pants as a precursor to the shit that was about to fill them, laughed and hurriedly crossed the road yelling back something that would register my lack of interest, but also prevent me from getting knifed to death. I really am that gay that a woman propositioning me on the street terrifies me, pathetic really. So the reason I wanna talk about these ladies of the night is that my new office fronts onto a street with large floor to ceiling windows that are mirrored on the outside but completely see through from the inside. Now when your building faces the street and your windows are mirrored, it provides all passers by the perfect opportunity to give themselves a sideways glance and see how styling they are. We have all done it, in fact along my regular walking trails I will actually prepare myself for any mirrored glass or windows en route so I can give myself a quick viewing to make sure the fly isn't down, the face is clean and nothing is hanging off the edge of my nostrils and moving to the rhythms of my breathing (have I talked about my hanging snot phobia yet?) So everyday a parade of people walk past my office and give themselves the once over and it is piss funny when it happens to be a junkie.

When a junkie decides to stop mid walk and give themselves a viewing, they don't do the casual sideways view, oh no, they stop, turn to face the window and then go about the routine of fixing themselves up. Now this could involve a variety of things, from moving the breasts into a better position, to making sure the skirt is straight , to fixing the hair. Some of them will work themselves over on the footpath for a good 10 to 15 minutes, all the time doing that stilletto wobble that most of us only see out at clubs after a really long night. They lean forwards into the glass, desperately staring at their reflection trying to work out who the hell they are looking at and if it is them trying to work out what they need to do to make the reflection they are viewing looking a little tidier. In the grand scheme of things that aint ever gonna happen but you have to admire their dedication. So to all those smacked out junkie whores who stop to re-adjust for my personal pleasure, may I salute you. While my heart breaks for everything you could have had and could have been, had you not taken the path you have taken. I am forever grateful that your routine provides me with a moment to stop, stare and wonder how many drugs I would have to take before I became entranced by my own reflection in a window and dedicated a portion of my day to sorting out my bits and pieces.