My Drabble for Cosmo

Oh for fucks sake, how long are we going to have to pose like this? I’m hot and sweaty and he had the nerve to eat lunch at Big Paco Taco. He stinks! He’s sweating chipotle or something. God!

When I got into modeling I envisioned myself on Vogue or Cosmopolitan or something. Not in fucking nude drawing class at Smells Like Hell Community College.

I shouldn’t complain; it could be worse. I could be… a waitress. I did that for a while and that was altogether thankless. Or I could still be doing those horrid singing telegrams where I dressed up as a panda Mondays through Wednesdays or a ‘Sexy Genie’ on Fridays and Saturdays. I can’t tell you the amount of mace I went through on the weekends.

I just want to act, and not down the hall where the film students are making their precious art, pretending to be Steven Spielberg and yelling “Cut!” so loud I can hear them in here. I want to act on a real stage in a real play, preferably a musical. Shit, I might as well shoot for the stars and wish to be in a Broadway musical, you know, just in case the Big Guy Upstairs is listening.

But for now, I’ll have to suck it up and pretend that the gray-haired, pot-bellied male student over there isn’t sporting wood. That’s right, for now, I will nuzzle Chimichanga’s neck and try not to choke on the stench.