Pregnancy and Pervology II

I've learned a few things since joining the porn industry. I've learned that Mondays are the busiest day. I've learned that the L.A. office hires pretty porn-type girls who give more attention to their cel phones than to their labelling and sorting, whereas the N.Y. office (ours) kicks ass in getting the mail in and out, its strongest workers being a shrimpy Jamaican kid and a knocked up 34 year old.

I also have learned that there is, in fact, a genre of porn for pregnant women. Apparently it's pretty popular and pretty rare. They have a hard time getting women to star in pregnant porn. (Surprise! Surprise!)

I have learned this because I was actually asked if I wanted to do a pregnant porn movie. Yes. Yes I was. He said I could make a lot of money. He said I could do it with my boyfriend, it didn't have to be some stranger. I wasn't sure if it was a joke or not, but he brought it up three or four times so I don't think it was joke.

I haven't told anyone, especially not Sean, because he might get really mad. But then again, he might not. He might leave it to me, knowing that I can handle a silly request like this. All the guy can do is ask, and then I say yes or no. Anything else coercive I have the sense to get out of myself. Not that there's anything coercive going on.

It's so funny. It really is a boring, repetitive job, in a tiny, cheery office. There's very little to do with actual porn. I don't even have to watch the movies. So I go in, bring my decaf latte, sort the mail, watch Ellen's talk show and a couple of sitcoms. Get some lunch, label some envelopes, listen to music, watch Oprah, stick the envelopes in a basket and leave.

But everyonce in a while I am reminded that this is indeed the porn industry.