it's not prostitution, but it's close.

i'm waitressing again.

cocktail waitressing to be specific.

something i never ever thought i would do, but i need the extra cash right now what with getting stuff together for the show, catching up on bills, etc., and in the world of nyc pub/bars/restaurants, the place i'm slingin' drinks is not a bad gig, and i'm actually quite thankful for the work.

it's different waiting tables when your 32 as opposed to when you're 22. when you're 22, or at least when i was 22, i was a lot less inclined to set boundaries with the guests. as in,

"wow, that guy keeps brushing up against me every time i walk by him with a tray. oh well, at least he says he's sorry."

at 32...

"if that fucking guy keeps accidentally-oh-i'm-sorry-COPPING A FUCKING FEEL every time i walk by him with a tray, i'm going to accidentally knee him in the family jewels so hard, he's going to be the last in what i'm sure is a long line of pathetic assholes with a penchant for bad haircuts, no necks and excessive cologne."