One of the more bizarre jobs I ever had was writing copy for thirty second radio ads. I was living in South Florida for a couple of years, certainly not by choice. While I hated every single facet of living there I loved the work. I did a bang-up job on a commercial for a local strip club promoting Fluffy Pillows, straight from LA. One night only. I was invited backstage and got to met Fluffy in the (lots of) flesh.
Now being a gay man, I couldn’t possibly distinguish fake from real yet I can measure the difference between a B cup and an F. Fluffy was clearly an F! Take Stormy Daniels and photoshop in a few extra pounds per boob and voila. You’ve got Fluffy.
Boobs fascinate me. How do women avoid lower back problems? If I had ’em they’d have to be strapped down at all times. They’ve gotta be a consideration for every dressing option, even pajamas. I can’t imagine surviving a hot ‘n steamy summer in the city sporting a pair of them. A subway ride must be hell given all the pushing and shoving.
But back to Fluffy Pillows. She gracefully greeted me after her show and thanked me for the job I did promoting her talent. The performance was sold out. While she was first and foremost a performer she was also a gracious business woman that was proud of her work. Nothing seedy about it. She was making an impressive profit by presenting her wares, and those wares were top shelf. I was jealous.
Imagine if presenting a bald head was considered entertainment?
I’d be clearing some staggering profits.