This Classic Toast Post originally ran on Apr 15, 2015.
9:17 am: Sleep with a source.
10:00 am: Sleep with my boss.
10:58 am: Find a powder-blue Oxford shirt that doesn’t quite button up over my breasts. Buy eight.
11:13 am: Internet.
11:45 am: Cultivate moxie, “stick-to-itive-ness.”
12:11 pm: Return to source’s house for more sex/to steal the incriminating book he keeps locked in his nightstand.
1:03 pm: Naked interview.
1:36 pm: Refuse to perform on-air puff piece about a cat show, demand to be allowed to
tag along on big story; decide to strike out on my own and get to the bottom of things after being rebuffed.
2:27 pm: Sex on newsdesk.
3:00 pm: Sabotage source’s career in order to get the big scoop after sleeping with him one last time.
3:02 pm: Stare expressionlessly at computer monitor as if to say, “What have I done?”
4:15 pm: Publish big scoop, receive “well done” from boss I am sleeping with, whose approval I am no longer sure I want.
4:51 pm: Sex in press room during office party. Feels hollow, somehow.
5:39 pm: Return to source’s house for a quick round of hate-sex and then to help him find redemption. Together we’re going to find an even bigger scoop. And then I’m going to have sex with that scoop.
Or just a beer, if he's one of the guys and hardly anyone knows that he's really a [insert profession/vocation that involves killing people].
Wonder if I should give it all up and go back to my clip-art gig. (Laughing over salad isn't as easy as it looks, but it pays the rent.)
That's why they always enter and leave by the skylight–doors take up precious seconds.
Was anyone else thinking, "Damn, that's underpaid for sex work" all the way through?
Literally same!