When I first started working as a Pro Domme, I worked at a house. Every time there was an especially financially lucrative day all of my sex worker friends would head off to shop for fetishwear. Not me. I knew if I really needed something (read: shoes) I could convince a client to take me shopping. Where did I go? Whole Foods.
I know. Naughty.
When I started sex work, I went from a steady, paycheck to paycheck existence, to a strange, cash based, feast or famine lifestyle, and when it was feast? Grass fed meats, imported cheeses and fancy boozes.
Latex rips, stains and gets lost. But an evening with a perfectly seared piece of Ahi? Fat juicy slices of an organic heirloom tomato and slabs of buffalo mozzarella drizzled with fresh extra virgin olive oil and imported balsamic sprinkles with fresh picked basil? A lovely Oregon Pinot? A perfectly made Manhattan with Buffelo Trace, Antica Formula and real maraschino cherries – not those horrible fake dye and corn syrup things most bar serve? Sorta doesn’t get better then that. And the older I get, the more my work in the dungeon is simply a way to fund my food and booze habit.
And sometimes my travel habit. Read: Disney, until Monkey is old enough to enjoy traveling over seas.
When I wrote my post today, I realized that I hadn’t written much in the last month or two, not only because I’ve been obsessed with getting Glitter perfect and ready for publication, but because the holidays is sort of a big deal for me.
I am a feeder. I seem to have an ingrained fear that someone, somewhere, is going to go hungry. And it’s going to be my fault.
My husband is an amazing bartender.
We host all the gatherings and make sure everyone is over feed and over served.
Even though I’ve always known I was a closet food blogger, I’ve steered away from writing about food here because, well, I’m already having a hard time explaining my blog to people. Then I realized that all my favorite magazines have articles about food, booze, sex and home, and from now on, so will I.
Realistically, this means I will now post four times a month instead of twice. And I should probably apologize in advance because all of the food I cook, while being quite tasty, almost always looks like it should be served in a prison.
Case in delicious point:
Also, I feel like I should disclose the fact that my special cooking talent is cooking healthy things in super human amounts of the three B’s; butter, bacon and booze.