Kelly's web cam

She lived in a strange world.

Kelly was a blonde. She liked to talk to people and liked to just talk. But she couldn’t afford to go to college. So cashier, waitress and maid service jobs were all she could find. She didn’t want to do that for the rest of her life.

So, one day while walking around in the mall, she saw a web cam. She had heard of other girls that made a living just sitting in front of one of those, flirting and talking with guys. Every once in a while, all you had to do was get naked. No one would know who you are or where you are. Unless you told them. Better than stripping, she thought, because of the anonymity of it all.

She set it up and started to practice. She went to free sites at first. Chat roulette was a favorite at first, until guys started showing up naked in front of her. That was too creepy. After a few days, she signed up for an account with a place called myfreecams.com. She’d gone there, watched the other girls and actually tipping them to go into private chats to talk about the business. It was funny, most of the girls were bitchy about that. They didn’t want to give “secrets” to getting guys to pay out. But one thing she noticed just by watching. The girls that didn’t show much, that just sat there and talked and every once in a while showed something – they made more than the ones who just acted like strippers.

She made up the name Legs4Miles because all the guys at the local bar always told her she had great legs. She was tall, and they certainly seemed to go on forever. Especially when she tried on clothes and nothing ever fit.

The first day was hectic. She had never had to deal with so many people at once. All of them with names like Wank-N-It and Joey694u. Some were nice. Most just said thing like “show your tits” or “I want to cum on your ass.” It took all of her strength to sit there with the camera on and not show how much it hurt her feelings.

A nice guy, at least she thought so, asked her for a private chat. He had given her over 1,000 tokens – the payment on this site – just to talk in front of a bunch of other people, so she went in.

“Get naked, please,” he asked immediately.

She didn’t.

He started to tip one token at a time. He said: “If you tease me like a stripper, I’ll treat you like one.”

She took her shirt off. He started to tip heavier. After a few more tips, she got naked completely.

“I like that, show me everything,” he said.

She did. She felt comfortable for some reason with this guy.

Then he stopped chatting. She kept dancing and talking. But nothing.

Finally, she asked “what’s wrong?”

He replied, “I’m done.”

That kind of grossed her out. She shut her cam off and went for a walk outside. Took her dog Janet with her. Janet was a terrier that liked to bark too much.

As she walked around downtown, she felt as if people were looking at her. Giving her weird glances. Was it possible they had seen what she was doing? It had only been a few hours. She made about $100 for her efforts. Not much, but she figured it was a good enough start. But, was it possible that people win town saw her? That they knew what she was doing in front of that camera? Or was she just being paranoid.

After he walk she got back on. She decided she needed to look at her own feed. She set her computer up to look at it. In it, you could see out her back window. Right there was the giant water tower with the name of her town on it. She had advertised to the world where she was.

She closed her drapes and moved all possessions – except for a mirror and a bed – out of the web cam’s view.

She got naked and started dancing. She took requests for songs. She had the internet hooked up and had all the songs “In the world” at her fingertips.

This proved to be very lucrative. Just being naked and dancing and flirty. She didn’t talk. She typed. And giggled. Never saying anything in words. Just in characters typed on the keyboard.

“I can do this,” she said to herself. “It’s not so bad.”

When she started making decent money, her father asked what she was doing to get it.

“I’m just singing and dancing,” she said. “Like on ‘American Idol’, just not on television.

“You’re stripping, aren’t you?” he said, condescendingly. “I don’t want to find out you’re working down at Dino’s”

“Daddy, I’m not working at Dino’s,” she said.

“Good,” he replied with a kiss to the cheek. “I’d hate to run in to you there.”

“Ewwwwwww, daddy. That’s gross.”

“Exactly,” he said, leaving the room.

She went back home feeling better. Her family didn’t seem to think what she was doing was bad. At least she could pay her own bills now.

To celebrate, she went on line. Started dancing.

Then the questions from one user got a bit weird.

“Hi! Can you come downtown to meet me?” It began.

She kept dancing.

“You used to work at the Wegmans, didn’t you?” Was the next question.

She kept dancing.

“I went to Carson Elementary with you. You used to wear a Poison concert shirt all the time.” That one startled her.

“Who are you?” she asked to the world.

“Wouldn’t you like to know Kelly?”

She turned off the camera. And never got back on.

dancin' machine

“Eh, it’s not going to make much of a difference.”

Yep, there’s plenty of places in my life where that phrase fits in perfectly. A time when a decision must be made, and you’ve got to stick with the consequences. Love or hate the results. Enjoy the fabulous disaster that may occur.

Last night, it was a simple one.

I went to the freezer and pulled out one of those frozen, all in one meals. This one was only bought because I had a coupon. It was from the Macaroni Grill. I think they retail for something ridiculous like $7.98. The coupon was for half off. So what the heck. But that’s not the decision I had to make. No, this one ranks up there with LeBron’s.

I opened up the package. Well, I attempted to at first with just my hands. However, it appears I am too weak now to even open up a sealed plastic wrapper with frozen vegetables, chicken and pasta inside. So, I found a knife, almost cutting my finger in the process as I just stuck my hand into the drawer and grabbed, and I proceeded to cut that thing open with a flick of the wrist. Did that sound sexy at all? Or is it even possible to say ‘flick of the wrist’ and be sexy?

Looking at the contents as they trickled into the frying pan that I use as a sauce pan, it looked edible. Better than the cheese toast I had for dinner the night before, for sure. (Ha. Night before, for sure.)

I look at the directions (for the first time) and am stunned to see this “add ¼ cup milk.”

“Shit. I don’t have any milk.”

But wait, there is a jug in the fridge. Way in the back. Behind the Orange Juice. Behind the tap water filled jug. Even behind the month-old Budweisers I bought for a buddy that came down. I even drank some of them.

I reach in and pull it out. Expecting solid waste.

Instead, the jug is liquid. The expiration date is Oct. 11. It’s officially Oct. 30 when I’m doing this. I take the cap off and look inside. Just a few swirlies in the mix. No cottage cheese. It’s still white as well. Then, I do what has to be done, I take a sniff.

“Eh, it doesn’t smell bad.” Not that it smelled good, but these are important little details that I wasn’t really worried about at that moment. I’m hungry. It’s after midnight and the only open store is the BP down the street. And, I won’t ever shop at a BP again. Fuck the little man and watch the big man rebrand itself.

I get the measuring cup. This is when you know the decision has been made. You’re going to eat this. Damn the consequences. Much like not going to the dentist in 17 years. But not really.

I pour it out into the cup. Then I pour the cup into the pan. It sizzles on contact.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m eating. This isn’t that bad. I don’t know, but Alien on the television just shot out of the guy’s chest while he was chewing on his food. Fuck omens.

I got to bed a few hours later. I tried to watch ‘Million Dollar Baby’ but just couldn’t fight off the monster of sleep. I stumble to bed. Taking a pee along the way.

In bed now, I slowly try to drift off. Then my stomach decides to say something.

It’s angry. With me. I try to just sleep through it. Nope. You’re getting up.

I go to the potty. Sit down and relieve myself. Yep. I said it. You read it. That uncomfortable feeling stays after the purge. You know what it means. There’s more to come. Yet, you don’t want to sit on the toilet and have your feet and butt fall asleep in the process.

So, I go back to bed. Leaving the bathroom light on, because, I know I’ll be back.

Funny thing is. I don’t. Instead, I wake up at 9 a.m. Take a pee. Go back to bed, laughing at the light still being on.

Then the stomach says, “remember me?”

Now it’s 10:46 a.m. I’ve been on the toilet four times. Lots of toilet paper used.

It’s the decisions you make, my son. They determine your future, whether you want to believe it or not.

And no, my dad never sat me down and filled me with such wisdom. I’ve learned it all on my own. With a little help from some awesome and not so awesome women. Some who dance, most who don’t. Not that I’m a dancer, mind you. I just have danced before.