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Sooner or later it happens to the best of us. No matter how meticulously you cover your tracks, eventually if you hide your hobby from someone, like a wife, a girlfriend or your mom (no one’s judging), there’s a decent chance that one day you’ll fuck something up, or some random fluke of the universe will conspire to screw you. Like maybe you’ll leave a suspicious phone number lying about, or a suspicious video of you banging a hooker, something like that. And then you have two choices – you either come clean or you bullshit like no one has ever bullshat before. If you choose option two, here are some excuses you can use that may or may not work. But honestly, I wouldn’t put money on this panning out for you. Sorry, buddy.

• Oh her? She’s my sister. My parents had her committed back when she was 13. Turns out she thinks she’s Abe Lincoln and penises are slaves. She tries to free them all the time, it’s bizarre.

• I’m involved in this new mentoring program through work. It’s really boring, but long story short I have to teach CPR to disadvantaged youths.

• She was choking on a grape and I had to get something in her throat to poke it out.

• She was constipated because of a grape and I had to get something in her ass to poke it out.

• I was bit by a snake, she was sucking the poison out.

• We were trying to even out the carpet

• She’s Dutch, that’s how they say hello.

• I was getting a baking lesson because I wanted to surprise you, but I slipped on some better and we got tangled up together.

• I work part time for the Catholic Church, that was an exorcism

• She was having a seizure, I was trying to stop her from swallowing her tongue

• That wasn’t you? Fuck!

• I have sinned!

• I work for the government. That woman was a terrorist spy. I just saved America.

• I was just trying to jump over her and I got stuck

• I was just trying to climb under her and I got stuck

• Both those chicks were trying to climb over me and got stuck

• I was just having a dream about churning butter…wait, was I sleep walking again?

• We were wrestling over an onion ring

• I have an identical twin. He’s evil. Always has been.

• I’ve been trying to raise some money to buy you a gift, so I volunteered for some medical testing. I don’t question what the doctors want me to do.

• I wasn’t paying her. I was giving the money she gave me back. I just didn’t feel right about it.

In my ongoing quest to help us all understand why, after countless generations of humanity, sex for money is still frowned upon, I bring you yet another head-shaking tale of sadness. If prostitution was undertaken in a respectable, business-like way, no one would give a shit anymore, I really believe that. Well, if there was a lack of general crack-use in some circles, pimps, creepy ladies on street corners and a clutter of miscellany that, by and large, would make any industry look unseemly, plus the respectable, business-like thing, then there’d be no issue. That’s why escorts rarely get hassled in the news unless it’s a big celebrity/politician bust. They’re not ruining anyone’s day. They’re being decent folk providing a service that other people really, really want, no matter how much the world continues to deny it.

That said, this is a story about a five dollar bill and candy. Specifically, solicitation with the attached price tag of $5 and a Jawbreaker.

There are many, many things in this world worthy of $5 and a Jawbreaker. Especially if you’re 12. You could mow a lawn for a neighbor, or take out the garbage for your folks, or help your little brother with his homework, whatever. When you’re a 33 year old woman offering to suck off a dude who also happens to be a cop, you should not say $5 and a Jawbreaker. It doesn’t even matter how much you need $5 and a fucking Jawbreaker. Ask for $20 and buy a few Jawbreakers.

I like to think maybe she was in a pinch and needed the cash for busfare or something and the Jawbreaker because maybe she was diabetic and had low blood sugar. And she pondered what to do, and even considered my $20 option, but then decided that she wasn’t going to try to financially abuse a person and instead was only going to ask for what she needed. I want to think that. But it’s still awful.

When society as a whole looks down on prostitution, this is what they look down on. Well, this and that crack stuff I mentioned earlier, and probably VD and whatnot as well. But this, too. This is serious. Society as a whole says “I would never sell access to my orifices, not ever!” and then, in a group of 3 or more friends, they play that game where you talk about how much you’d degrade yourself for $1 million. We’re all whores at heart, you know it. But nonetheless, whenever you play that game, if you start dropping the dollar value, you never get down to $5 and a Jawbreaker. Not ever. No girl out there is sitting with her friends at Starbucks thinking “Man, I could suck a dick for a newspaper, I really want to have something to read during my lunch break” or anything even close to that.

So if you ever stop to ponder what it is in the world that makes people so despise sex for money, remember this. It isn’t so much the sex for money that’s the problem. Sometimes it’s just the price tag.

If you peruse the Google news links for stories on prostitution, more often than not you’re going to find two kinds of stories – people arrested for being or getting caught with prostitutes, and stories about violence against prostitutes. It’s both grim and predictable. And curiously, little of it tends to paint prostitutes in a poor light. If anything they tend to be victims in mainstream media. So why is it we still have this negative connotation in modern culture against those who sell sex for money?

Likely it’s a holdover from bygone days of religious tightassery that just won’t go away. But a tiny percentage of it is because of stories like this one. Stories that rocket prostitution towards the 7th circle of hell with the near insanity of them. You can’t just have a story about a prostitute stealing candy from children or anything. Oh no. It’s got to be big. Sit down for this one, it’s a winner.

A 27 year old Spanish priest stole $23,000 worth of Church funds, some which was collected as relief money for Haiti, and spent the money on porn and hookers. And claimed that he too was a prostitute. Basically all he needed to do was throw a flaming bag of shit at a nun and drive a busload of orphans off a cliff and he would have cemented himself as the most fucked up asshole ever.

For whatever reason, he was advertising himself online for women and couples, for $160 an hour, because you can only steal so much Church money to fund your fucked up habits, apparently. And it’s not even that he liked internet porn and hookers, we all like internet porn and hookers, or even that he’s a priest, because Lord knows the Catholic Church has an epic history of debauchery, or even that he stole money because that’s as old as time, too. It’s that all that shit came together under the blanket of him also being a manwhore. Plus, you know, stealing the Haiti money is a bit worse than just plucking it out of the collection plate. You need to have some tact when you’re a thief.

The priest slapped this classy add online – “Heterosexual man for women and couples. Real photos. Well hung (15cm) to give you pleasure and happiness. I am open to everything except sadism. Hotels and private addresses. 24 hours. You won't regret it, I will give you pleasure like never before." No word on whether anyone was buying, but he did include a photo of himself in grey undies. Nice.

This kind of thing presents one hell of a mountain to attempt to climb for reputable, non-asshole prostitutes who don’t steal from the victims of natural disasters. This story is one that is so fucked up, it will stick in people’s minds. And the fact he was a priest, and a man, won’t affect in any way the fact he also said he was a prostitute. And the brains of all the people who hear this will cross-file it in their mental rolodex under “prostitute” so that the next time they hear the word, all the details of this tale come to mind.

And then, my friends, is why prostitution continues to have a piss poor name. One step forward, two steps back.

It’s not secret that a lot of people just don’t appreciate paying for sex. For as long as there have been people who think “I want sex and I have some shiny, valuable things to trade for sex, let’s make a deal!” there have been people thinking “you should not pay for sex, it should be given freely in a trusting relationship!” or something like that. Honestly, the arguments against prostitution often degrade into simple subjective ones, it’s hard to figure what the big deal is if you don’t share the point of view, but that’s neither here nor there.

Generally speaking, however, prostitution has always had a kind of dubious distinction as its own special sort of sin amongst those who don’t like it. At worst it would be lumped in with pornography and adultery by the sorts of people who frown on that stuff (weirdos). But now, prostitution has truly been taken down a peg.

Over in the UK, in Norwich, the locals have clearly spelled out where they think prostitution ranks in the grand scheme of things. The Norwich City Centre Safer Neighbourhood Team has taken it upon themselves to categorize prostitution together with things like people pissing in public and door-to-door fundraisers as public nuisances. Also on the list? Dog shit.

How the mighty sins have fallen. Prostitutes and Girl Guides are now, for the first time (probably) on the same level of annoyance for at least one community of people, because lord knows a box of thin mints and a hummer ruin everyone’s day.

Trying to wrap your head around this concept, it actually becomes a circle of wondering if this is a good view or a bad view of prostitution. Does this mean it’s not worthy of more concern than a drunk guy pissing on your shrubs? As in, it’s annoying but we’ll deal with it? Or does it mean the people in Norwich are just shit house rat crazy and have no concept of life in the real world that allows them to decide peddling, fundraising and selling your ass are all the same sort of minor annoyances one has to deal with when getting a ride from one’s butler to the diamond shop?

Honestly, it’s a bit of a tough call here. It seems odd to say, but these people seem to be marginalizing prostitution and on the one hand that’s kind of nice that they’re not portraying it as something awful and society-destroying. On the other hand, it’s now on par with stepping in dog shit, which is rather degrading to everyone involved. And really, that’s one of the biggest problems with prostitution in society, isn’t it? There are very few instances when prostitution will not be degraded – in any aspect of our culture. The men and women involved are pretty much freely used as the butt of jokes and are given no respect by default.

Maybe the key to dealing with prostitution is to not lump it into a category with junk mail and people who piss on your bushes and instead recognize, like it or not, approve or disapprove, we’re dealing with choices made by people who, at the very least, should be free to engage in discourse to either explain or justify their lifestyles as they see fit, without the par for the course disdain and disrespect that seems inherent in nearly everyone’s view of the subject.

Prince Frederic von Anhalt wants to be governor of California. And my hat’s off to you, Californians, because politics in your state is absolutely fucking insane. The current government is the Terminator for god’s sake and in the past you’ve endured runs by Gary Coleman, porn stars and pretty much anyone who could muster up a page and a half of signatures for support. It’s a gong show, but we love it.

Now, however, things are getting series. Anhalt, long-time husband of Zsa Zsa Gabor, wants to be your governor. His platform? Legalize weed and prostitution.

There aren’t a lot of states where a hookers and pot platform would have much success but if there’s any hope, it’s California. Does he have a chance in hell? Very likely no, but it’s refreshing to see someone take a pro-prostitution stance for a change of pace.

The prince isn’t just advocating random, willy-nilly prostitution and weed, of course. The man wants to hit you in the wallet. His proposal comes complete with a plan to tax both for the benefit of the state, because Lord knows you’d rake in a ton off of weed tax, people have been saying it for years.

The prince would be the only independent on the ballot, at least so far, if he can collect the needed 10,000 signatures by the end of June. So basically he needs to find 10,000 people in California who like either pot or prostitutes. Tough gig.

His competition are a pair of Republicans vying for their party’s nomination and a democrat who probably is not supporting pot and hookers and is therefore of no interest to us in any way, shape or form.

The prince says he’s not running as a joke, and that may be true but we all know he’ll be fairly unsuccessful in his bid. But what will be interesting is how he places if he succeeds in getting his signatures to run, which he most likely will since last election about a million people did.

As an independent, he could be running on a platform of giving everyone in the states $1000 a week for life and he still wouldn’t get elected, but it’ll be interesting to see what kind of support he does garner and if he actually stomps on any Democrat feet since, arguably, he’d have to appeal a little more to Democrats than Republicans.

If nothing else, his candidacy will serve as a barometer to determine just how many people in California are willing to eschew the two party system to vocalize their support for pot and/or prostitution. We could only guess right now about the numbers, but would any result surprise you? From 0 votes to 100,000, somehow anything seems about right.

If you’re in Cali, keep your eyes open. A 66 year old German Prince is counting on your vote.

99 times out of 100 I would never dream of writing a blog on sex ed tools, because, for all intents and purposes, I imagine we’re all a little past that in our lives. But this blew my mind. Up in London, Ontario Canada, the local health unit has decided, in its efforts to educate children about sex, decided an interactive superhero game is the way to go.

Now on the surface, this story sounds weird, but not too weird. Superheroes, sex, sure. Why not? Everyone wanted to bang Jean Grey after the X-Men movie came it, it’s cool. But take a look at some of the shit they have going on here.

In Adventures in Sex City players can choose one of four heroes on the Sex Squad;

Willy the Kid, a 4 foot tall hero who joined the team because he believes size doesn’t matter. His power is “massive rock hard strength.”

Wonder Vag, a virgin who is saving herself for marriage and can tell if a person is lying.

Captain Condom, a once-scientist who was turned into half man, half condom after a freak accident.

Power Pap, a sexually active woman who gets tested regularly and uses her x-ray vision to spot STI’s.

And of course, every superhero team needs a villain. The Sex Squad face off against the Sperminator, a masked maniac who used to be a member of the Sex Squad until an STD made him crazy! And it also transformed his arms into two giant dicks that he uses to squirt his evil sperm at his victims in an effort to infect the world.

I shit you not, I did not make up or even embellish a word of any of that.

The object of the game is to answer true or false questions about sex. When you answer correctly, the Sperminator attacks you with his sperm, but you deflect the blow back at him. Answer wrong and he gives you a facial, more or less.

I have seen all kinds of shit on the internet in my life. I have written dozens of articles about sex that forced me to scour the darkest corners of fetish and fantasy, to research furries, plushies, anthros and more. I’ve been to sites that are devoted to sex with the homeless, sex with balloons, sex in diapers, sex with animals, sex with furniture and I even saw a game of anal ring toss.

I have talked to escorts who will bring dogs with them, not for sexual purposes, but just if you feel like playing with the dog and maybe taking it for a walk. I have been assaulted by a Russian stripper in the course of her trying to convince me to touch her ass. I have received nude photos from a swinger couple in their late 50’s, both of whom looked like Milton Berle. And somehow, even after all of that, Wonder Vag and a guy with two dicks for arms teaching teenagers about sex still blows my mind.

If you want to play the game, check out the link. Stay safe out there in Sex City. Guys with cock arms are everywhere.

Nearly every man, at some time in his life, has been with an obnoxious friend who asked him what he’d do for $1 million. Invariably the provided options are unappealing. Would you fuck another dude? Would you go down on Rosie O Donnel? Would you jerk off in church in the middle of a sermon?

Depending on how gross your friends are, the examples can get far more extreme. I’m trying to pretend like I’m still a half decent human being, so I won’t go any further with mine. But what aside, it’s a sort of challenge to the very fiber of your being to ponder what you’d do. How far would you go. But what if the shoe was on the other foot?

What if you had access to limitless funds? How much would you pay for sex? What if you knew there was a chance you’d get caught? And all that money wasn’t exactly yours, what then? Most of us would probably say “no thanks” and move on. Most of us. But not everyone thinks that way. Take, for instance, Sung Kyu Chung. A 41 year old banker from Sydney Australia who dropped about $7 million on prostitutes.

Try, if you can, to imagine how much fucking you can get for $7 million. That this man still has a penis and a pelvis that hasn’t been shattered is either a testament to his prowess or an example of how this dude has no idea how to properly spend money.

Over the course of 7 years, Chung made off with $7.2 million over 77 transactions. Not all the money went to prostitutes, it’s just assumed most of it did, either as payment or in the form of lavish gifts. No doubt he was the favorite customer of a lot of girls.

Apparently Chung would just use computers to transfer cash from clients’ accounts into his own, then cover his ass by making up fake computer and accounts records that made it seem like they were all overseas transactions to confuse anyone who looked into it. However, $7 million in missing funds is going to raise more eyebrows than can be swept under any rug with confusing records and so when the accounts were audited, the shit hit the fan.

But really, just try to imagine what that must have been like. What could you do with $7 million, in Thailand no less? Based on current market values, and let’s say he did 11 transactions a year and maybe yanked out $100,000 a pop, that’s like one full month with three girls and change left over, every single month for seven years.

The details haven’t fully come to light, and odds are Chung was buying cars, houses and jewelry along the way, but supposing you had the funds, what would you do? Or who, for that matter?

Apparently filmmakers have been trying to put Pretty Woman 2 together for some years. You remember Pretty Woman, right? Horribly rich Richard Gere picks up Julia Roberts on the street and they fall in rich love? What am I saying, of course you remember it. It probably happens to you every time you see a hooker.

So yeah, the movie won over audiences who appreciate hookers that don’t have pimps, sores, VD or crippling crack addictions but do attract suave, personable rich men in need of companionship. It was a pretty accurate portrayal of street prostitution, by and large. So it’s no wonder they wanted a sequel. Unfortunately, Julia has said that, seeing as she’s 42, it’s just now going to happen. See, no one wants to see an old hooker.

The mind boggles a bit at this position, but it’s possible Julia Roberts is being so ultra-clever she need not acknowledge any of the million and one things that were already fucked up about the premise of Pretty Woman that would discount her age as being a problem in a potential sequel. Honestly, it was a feel-good romantic comedy about a woman, working street corners, who finds love with a rich Richard Gere. And she looks like Julia Roberts. Are you fucking kidding?

It’s entirely possible the screenwriter of Pretty Woman would tackle the war on terror by making Osama bin Laden a hard-to-get geologist played by Catherine Zeta-Jones and George Bush a debonair cowboy played by Brad Pitt. Clearly this whole movie came from so far out of left field as to represent reality in the most strained ways. Yes, she was a woman, yes he was a man. That part makes sense and that’s about where it ends.

Really though, it might have been nice to see a sequel to Pretty Woman. Maybe in this one Roberts could be a she-pimp, and her stable of ladies could include Scarlett Johansson, Natalie Portman and Megan Fox. And they’d all get picked up one night by the Jonas Brothers, playing themselves, and be taken to a magical ball where Jim Cramer gives accurate stock tips, President Obama unites Republican and Democrats and Tiger Woods doesn’t fuck anyone he’s not married to. It’d be amazing.

Hopefully Roberts will reconsider given all the possibilities that could be gleaned from the role of an early 40’s hooker with a heart of gold. Maybe she could team up with George Clooney to rob Andy Garcia. Or she could wear trashy clothes and work for a lazy-ass lawyer to uncover a massive case of corporate corruption in a wicked class-action lawsuit. Or, you know, something like that. It’d be cool, you know it would. Hollywood can’t make a bad movie these days. Maybe Michael Bay could direct it and at the end Richard Gere would get blown up by a robot dinosaur.

In fact, I’m going to give that idea away for free. Michael Bay, if you’re out there, start putting the wheels in motion. Make this movie happen.

I discovered the enigmatic escort who goes by the name Alexa DiCarlo when I came across her blog, The Real Princess Diaries, a well written blow by blow of the trials and tribulations of a young VIP escort working the bay area. The blog was more than merely an “Academia by day, sex worker by night” autobiography. It contained not only rich, intimate details of this young woman’s racy life, but also in-depth commentary on just about everything relating to the escort milieu. Topics ranged from the distinction between a GFE and a PSE to her draft of a "revolutionary" Provider’s Code of Ethics.

I found her content engrossing so I subscribed to her blog, followed her on twitter, facebook, myspace and the whole gamut of social sites. On occasion I’d even exchange a private message or two with this increasingly famous voice of the escort community.

I can recall one exchange on twitter where we were talking about little black dresses and she sent me a picture of herself, where she sports a rather elegant LBD. In another exchange, I asked her to add her profile to Naughty Reviews. In her reply she said that she had disdain for reviews and review sites and would not add a profile to NR, believing that such information is meant to be kept private between the hobbyist and provider. Fair enough, I thought. We exchanged links and, on occasion, shared a tweet.

I was always intrigued by her beauty and intellect and made a point to add her booking site to my list of favorites. If ever I were to find myself in her area, I would certainly like to meet the compelling, tenacious Alexa DiCarlo.

I hadn’t thought about the high end hottie for a while until recently, when rumors concerning her veracity began to spread. It appears that the photos she used in the gallery of her booking site were stolen from a cam girl named “Blue Eyed Cass”. No! Could the pictures I have of Alexa, my Alexa in the little black dress, actually be pictures of this cam girl? To my surprise, sadly, they were indeed pictures stolen from “Blue Eyed Cass”.

Alexa was not real. She was a person playing a game. While her words rang true, in reality she was not a sex worker fighting for the rights of her ilk, but a charlatan toying with the minds of good people who were searching for a kindred soul. Well, I must say, she was pretty convincing.

The scandalous Alexa DiCarlo situation serves only to enforce the importance of the escort review platform. It’s certainly telling that “she” rejected the notion of escort reviews. While every provider has the right to not support review sites, every potential client has the right to refrain from pursuing an escort who isn't reviewed by his peers. It’s a complicated world we live in, and the truth is hard to find.

In all honesty this entire blog exists solely because of the title, because rarely will you ever get to title something “nuns vs strippers” and actually keep it factually based. Nuns and strippers just don’t throw down and battle nearly as often as logic and good sense dictate they should. Shame, really.

Back to the UK, and a club in the pleasantly named Uckfield decided its business would be better served if there were boobies present. And it’s true, science shows that 99% of businesses improve with the addition of boobies. Those that fail generally involve large men and/or the very elderly. No one wants to see man boob and desiccated elderly nipple unless they have to.

Anyway, not everyone approves of the presence of tit, and that includes the nuns from the convent down the street from the club, which makes this one of the coolest neighborhoods on earth. Strippers and ladies of the cloth? Awesome porn plot in the making right there, kids.

Officially the club is only allowed to host striptease nights at private functions, like stag parties. But they were rejected on their bid to stay open until 4 in the morning, because apparently that’s just too much boob.

The nuns, however, are still not happy as a lot of college kids frequent that area and as one nun said "Can we suppose that the dancing entertainment and films are going to be Morris Men and Julie Andrews?" Seriously, a nun said that. Nuns are a right. And they have their fingers on the pulse of a generation, because lord knows we need to steer college kids away from nudity and towards Julie Andrews. Though in fairness, Julie Andrews did appear topless in the 1981 movie S.O.B. Maybe the nuns missed that one.

But the nuns didn’t get their way in this case and the strippers will be allowed to carry on with their stripping and such which means these two diametrically opposed universal forces are going to have to live together and, again, if porn has taught us nothing else, it’s that there’s plenty of potential for nuns to be hot if they just wear stockings and garters under their habits and maybe defile each other in their spare time, so long as they’re all in their mid-20s and unspeakably hot. Busty wouldn’t hurt either, but we’re not going to insist or anything. Just saying is all.

For our part, in the world beyond quaint Uckfield, this gives us a chance to pause and reflect on the nature of strip clubs, or more specifically their geography. A night of fun can be made infinitely more amusing depending on what’s within drunken stumbling distance of the club, when you think about it. How much fun could be had if convents were down the street from all strip clubs? How many strippers would be inspired to dress as nuns? It’s not one of the most popular fetishes in the world, but if my Google searching has taught me nothing else tonight it’s that there is at least a minority of people out there who really want to see nuns bare assed naked.

Something to think about, anyway.