If you're wondering why this page exists, --this is the blog as it used to be "Adventures in Phone Sex." I was a voice whore! This is a record of the short time I did this as a part-time gig, and it was okay, for the most part, but now, that period of my life is over.
2/28/11
Been moving a lot, but I've signed a lease, so now I'm here to stay, whether I er.. like it or not.
Boy does the bitch who stomps around in the apartment above mine have a surprise coming, once I get my paperwork faxed over to the dispatch center.
By the way. Speaking of bitches. Have you ever had a pretty much unknown person --who just happens to get a chance to talk to a G-list celebrity now and then, --email you, and tell you what a twat you were for not correctly crediting their stupid interview correctly? Nevermind that we even bothered to write about it in the first place. That's gratitude for you.
I'd really like to link to her stupid article so she knows I think she's a big cunt with droopy pussy lips, that way she can come back here and find me out... ha! that's right, a mere phone sex operator called you dirty names! But I won't; she'd just send another email to my boss, and whine about how I'm not being nice, and maybe sue me for defamation of character. And I have filled my quota for legal issues this year, what with those unpaid fines for screaming "fuck you" at a school bus drive like, five times...
In my defense, she probably could've used a good fuck, and given the chance, I'd probably tell a court I was just offering her some personal romantic advice. I think I'm qualified, given my profession. There's no way I'd get out of the fines anyway, seeing as how I was on camera... so I might as well use it as an excuse to perform in front of a crowd who could -really- use a laugh.
1/11/11
Sorry about the last few weeks, guys, I've been... absent. Let me tell you about the worst four words you'll ever hear while on a call:
"Tell me I can..."
They're not 'bad' per se, after all, he may have a completely normal request. On the other hand, you may find yourself, in a few seconds' time, actually saying out loud,
"You can shit all over me! Please piss in my mouth!"
Yeah. You can get that. Or you can get something like,
"Tell me I can get your extension number, so I can call you back."
Either way, these four words are a gamble, and you have to steel yourself when you hear them, and be prepared to say yes, or you know, say what he wants. Or she. "She's" can be just as nasty, though the chances of getting a she are remarkably slim. But that's a topic for another day.
Needless to say, I got one of those the other day, but was I really surprised to hear myself moaning and begging to be pissed and shit on? Not really. I really don't think anything can surprise me after being asked not to eat someone. But who knows, maybe there's someone out there, with a new fetish. I might get a call from a guy begging me to describe myself as Glinda the Good Witch, and to turn him into a cucumber, to masturbate with. Hey, if there's someone out there who wants to be eaten by Britney Spears... then there could be a guy who wants Glinda to masturbate with him in cucumber form. I'm not judging.
Well, yeah I am. That's pretty fucking insane.
12/14/10
The weirdest call I've ever had, up until now, was a guy who asked me to talk about stepping on bugs.
Well, prepare to be trumped, bug-guy. The latest, weirdest ever call is:
Little Timmy
Don't be fooled people; this is a grown man. His fetish, or more appropriate I guess, his damage, is he likes to fantasize about being shrunken down, and surrounded by giants. And then be stepped on or eaten. But it gets better; his favorite people to fantasize with are Kirstie Alley, or Britney Spears, according to my dispatch guy.
As we're discussing 'Little Timmy", the dispatch guy calls over his shoulder to another operator,
"Why is he into Britney Spears again?"
The female operator calls back,
"Because she's tall!"
Uh huh.... well, okay. And now it seems, we're all worked out, because now that I know how to 'handle' this caller, we can do our thing the next time he calls. Because when I received the call, this is what happened the first time:
Whisper message: "Hardcore sex call, press 1 to connect to your hardcore sex call..."
*beep*
My sexy voice: "Hey there..."
Caller, speaking in a high pitch falsetto: "This is little Timmy..."
My slightly worried, nervous, but still trying to be slightly attractive voice: "Hi, how are you?"
Little Timmy: "Please don't eat me?"
Me, trying to recover as quickly as possible..."Why would I eat you?"
Little Timmy: "You're so enormous, please don't eat me!"
Me, completely devoid of any acting ability for the moment, "Uh... what?"
*click*
Sometimes... these people do catch me off guard. But don't worry Little Timmy, next time, I'll be prepared. Unless my mind should involuntarily react to the utter absurdity of pretending to eat a shrunken man...
12/6/10
Nevermind about my personal life, you bastards!
No, but seriously, it sucks right now.
But the silvery, oil-slick lining around the dark, dark cloud that is my personal life, is that the phone is getting installed at my new "residence" today. I have one pack of cigarettes left (minus 2 cigarettes), some glittery lip gloss, and plenty of expensive BareMinerals concealer. My signature tone is "well-rested". And that's what I am folks, well rested.
My phone sexing will now be done in my friend's room, that she doesn't really use very often, --but here's the kicker:
I have no phone!
Yup. A phone sex operator with no phone. Hilarious.
The plan is to borrow the neighbor's phone until everything is installed and we can buy a new one. The type of phone my company requires is pretty cheap, so we'll be ready to go in no time. I actually have enough money to cover it, but since that $9 sitting in my savings account is waiting to be used for cigarettes, I'll have to just go with plan A for now.
Did anyone else know that using profanity at a bus driver was illegal? I was fined $463 (an amount that I haven't had all at once in around two years), for "disrupting public transportation" and "disorderly conduct". Mhm. And I can't even lie, because there's a camera or something on the bus. The reason I cussed at the bus driver is long and complex, so I'll save you the drama, and just explain to the Justice of the Peace later this morning. Oh and by the way, what makes this all so hilarious, is that the fine has to be paid in Cleburne, Texas. I currently reside in Lehigh Acres, Florida.
Now, you might be asking yourself, --why is she telling us the name of her city?
Well, because anyone who has any skills whatsoever in Internet land, can probably look up my Who-Is info, and find out for themselves. And those of you who are trying to stalk me are going to be sorely disappointed. Not only am I broke, but I live with three other females who are starved for sex. And they will screw you until you go blind and eventually die of starvation or suffocation beneath their ample bosoms. Stalkers, beware, --you'll be forced to give oral stimulation for the rest of your short, pathetic lives. Then we will dispose of you by feeding your ground up, flattened corpses to the Mexicans' chickens (who are probably illegally housed outside of the zoning laws here) across the street.
Bwahahaha!
11/17/10
...maybe some explanation is needed here. My least favorite caller. So far, anyway. I actually have several types. Not many of them do much more than amuse me, let alone turn me on. There's a rare occasion though, when I'll lean my chair back and shove my hand under my skirt, giving in to the sheer insanity of allowing a 'customer'/'client' to get me off. That's my job, but hey, fuck it.
But there's always the majority, and one genre of caller in particular, who I can't get into it for.
The 'Suck My Dick' Guy
They ask over and over again for you to suck their dick, and when you don't comply... they hang up. What the fuck is that about? How do I suck your dick, guy? How? Answer me this. And hey, the first thing most people think is "he just wants to hear you sucking on your fingers". No, because I've done that, --quietly, loudly, whatever, drooling all over my own hand. And it does nothing for them. I think the guy actually wants me to miraculously shove my head through his phone, and start choking down his cock.
So what do I do here? Moan? No. That doesn't work. Talk about how much I'd love to suck his dick? Tried that too. -Describe- sucking his dick? No. That's no good.
Finding the right combination of words and noises is still fairly elusive. If you can think of anything I haven't tried, let me know, because I'm clearly not getting it.
11/16/10
Tonight, I was watching Charlie Rangel talk, and talk, and talk, ...and couldn't help but be a little wistful for one of my favorite types of callers.
The Silent Caller
This guy makes me wet; not because he knows how to push my buttons, but because all he does, is listen. That's it. And he'll listen for as long as he has minutes to spend on my extension. I've had silent calls lasting up to 45 minutes. Know what I have to do for this guy?
Not a god damn thing. He'll listen to me read, aloud, or to myself. Do dishes. Or explain the book to him (in this last case, I warned him that I was reading Cell, by Stephen King, --it was a risky move, considering King's killer cell phones might have been too much for even the most degenerate silent caller) and proceeded to vaguely outline the plot. Then I told him what I thought about the book so far, where it was going, and never once, did I hear anything more than pht, silence.
It's almost like talking to God, without the inconvenience of being mentally and emotionally fucked over by some over-organized pedantic religion (unless we're talking about Catholics, then the fucking over is literal, at least for male minors).
It's hard to recognize the silent caller, for a new phone sex operator. You answer the phone, listen to the whisper (warning!) message, and connect to your caller. If you encounter silence, chances are, you'll hang up, figuring after a few seconds, no one is there. Wrong! You have just gotten a call from the Silent Caller. The easiest caller in the world. Take a nap, read a book, eat lunch, smoke, do whatever. He loves it.
10/31/10
I won't be doing much phone-sexing today, unless somehow, I get all these candied apples and popcorn balls done before Nick (the evil teen) gets back from church (the local Jehova's Witness gathering place, --where they sit around and assure each other the end is coming). We send him up there mostly because he needs to understand morality from the religious angle, --he's never had that before. And when he's older, or whatever, he'll choose a church for himself. Or a temple, a mosque, a Wiccan chanting circle, you know, whatever makes him happy. I can't say that Satanism is the choice I'd like him to make though, whether it's Orthodox or Laveyan, Satanism seems to be a pretty selfish way of life.
Anyway, I called in to the people who control the whole phone sex thing. Let's just call them 'The People in Charge', or PIC, as they're known in Wristcutters. I called in to PIC because I haven't gotten a lot of calls at all in this week; it's the week before Halloween, so I am really busy getting a million things done. Plus, it was also spent working on getting my driver's license. If you're thinking, "wait, how old are you?" --the answer is 24, --and yeah, no driver's license. It took me a long time to get over the fear of driving, and then start doing it, a little at a time. Six years, actually. So I'm taking the course, yay, and soon, I'll be taking a road test. Kinda scary, but I'll manage. I'm one of those really cautious drivers. You know, the ones driving 5 miles under the speed limit, who you scream at and pass every chance you get? That's me.
Anyway, the point I was trying to make about the job is, they're always very forgiving. As long as I have some minutes on my account, I don't get fired. Which, I was afraid of. I've only had 8 calls this week. Egads. But, duty calls. People are always bitching about the time you have to invest in phone-sexing to even make a decent check. Not really. You can actually make $24.00 per hour, if you're good at keeping people interested. I say people, because girls call too. It's rare, and it's never pleasant. I am bisexual, but much more selective about women than men. Women are also a lot more demanding and bitchy than men. It's also unpleasant because it's kinda sad to see your fellow gender-mate as someone who calls phone sex lines.
We have vibrators. From now on, I'm just going to assume that the female callers are hermits, that way I don't have to do any unpleasant speculating about intra-gender social evolution.
10/29/10
...my blog, I mean. Those lips, too. This is my blog. Where I rant about my job. And if you haven't guessed yet, I'm a phone sex operator. And no, no way, will I ever, ever, ever, tell you which company I work for, or by which number you can reach me. This is my private... spot, where I can vent about the creepy freaks who call me. If you're thinking, "why do you do it, if you're just going to bitch about it?" the answer is, --because it's easy. Why does anyone do anything? Let's get existential for a minute:
I can make money by doing nothing other than talking dirty, with nothing more, than a telephone.
In the great scheme of things, it doesn't get much simpler than that. Oh and do I really need to add that the economy sucks, and this brings in a little extra cash?
I tried the whole camwhore thing, --yeah, you get paid more, if you can stand to sit for hours, in your underwear, at your desk, waiting for someone to finally pay for a private show. God forbid you have to get up and pee. You can get fined, even fired, for moving out of the line of a camera. Plus, you have to buy a decent webcam. Hmm, what costs more, a webcam, or telephone?
The webcam. The phone I'm required to use cost me just over five bucks. The webcam I'd need to have a real quality show full of lots of close-ups of my vag and my boobs is somewhere around eighty bucks. I think, I'd rather go with phone sex.
Anyway, this is my part-time gig. I'm also a freelance writer for an absolutely stellar man who I'd love to screw into the ground, but sadly, cannot, for he is taken. I'm also a wife, of a great guy who can be a real goober sometimes, but for the most part, is awesome. And he makes me coffee. I'm also a struggling guardian of a troubled teenager who drives me absolutely out of the realms of insanity and into the hemisphere of psychotic, but... he's getting better.
I'll probably tell you more about me later. My life is like a neverending carnival ride. No matter how many times I lean over the side of the car to puke, I'm having too much fun to stop.
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