Centipedes are sex workers, too.


I had the most bizarre dream last night. I don’t remember ever having a sex work dream before, but apparently I had one last night.

I borrowed a centipede from another sex worker for use with a client. I opened the container it was in, and it escaped and was free in my apartment.

Several thoughts come to mind. The first is: no, really, what the fuck was I going to do with a centipede? The second is: why didn’t I wake up freaked out? I think the answer to the question is that in puzzling over the first, my half-asleep brain realized that there was not going to be a centipede in bed with me when I woke up.

For the record, there are few things I hate in this world more than millipedes and centipedes. Fucking gross!


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