It works like this:
I post a message to you in my blog, and you come running like a sweaty, nervous hound, heeling to your mistress’s call.
Then I tease you, and taunt you as you beg for mercy.
I dig up some old dirt, smear it on the internet… and share it with the world.
For a moment then, I sit, breathless in anticipation of your reaction… wet with the knowing of what’s to come.
And then we dance… MY dance… to the tune of $150.
I have to tell you something:
Money turns me on. Not in a “it gives me a teeny illicit thrill” sort of way, either.
More like a, “I am a complete gold digging whore” sort of way and you can flash your cash at me all you want.
But see, it’s an important kind of gold digging. I don’t take your hard earned cash for my bills, my car payment, or my student loans. You’re little tributes and giftlets are not shucked away for my mortgage or my directv (gotta shout out for my tivo)… you pay my starbucks habit, my movie habit, my buy-myself-something habit. And I love it.
Cuz I am a greedy ho.
Well… at least I am. I think that what I need is to be worked for the weekend. And hard. 
Seriously though, the last few weekends in a row have been chock full of me… not working. I have been having too much fun sweating it out between the sheets and I forget all about you sad lonely fuckers who love and worship me. That’s why, regardless of whether or not MY FRIEND wants to listen in this weekend, all you have to do is send me an EMAIL requesting information and I will tell you about how you can purchase an mp3 transcript of this weekends party in my bedroom. MMM unedited, of course. (the word email is a link in case you can’t tell because my css is beig screwy).