Leaving present.

I will be away from my laptop for a week. I know, right? I too will be looking on with interest to see if I can survive this severing of my cyborg self. (Donna Haraway ain’t just a river in Egypt, you guys.) Anyway, I don’t want you to think I’ve abandoned you, or that I wouldn’t basically spend every single minute of all the days of my finite life checking my hit counter if I could (and furthermore consider that to be good use of my afore-mentioned finite life), so here is some lovely multimedia to last you through until Sunday/Monday. (You may have already seen all of these. Sssshh. Pretend otherwise.)

Advice to the dates, sweethearts, partners and lovers of sex workers:

 

“I am a sex worker”. This actually makes me tear up a little sometimes. Telling a camera your various non-controversial traits – “I talk to my family every day”, “I love baking”, and then adding, “and I’m a sex worker” – its just so simple and so powerful.  (I also cried a tiny bit at Slutwalk, for approximately the same reason, so.)

 

Shit They Say To Sex Workers. (My particular favourites include, “do these earrings make me look like a whore? … oh, sorry“, and “I guess we’re all prostitutes really”.)

 

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