There is just one. Only once in my life have I ever gone to the very beginning of the archives of someone's blog, and read the entire thing in long stretches until I was finished. It took about 3 days, reading for two hours at a time, glued to the monitor. I can't remember how I stumbled up ex-millennial girl, which makes it even more special to me. I didn't find it on Metafilter or read about it at Salon. It was pure happenstance.
Her blog reads like a book. Stefanie was a stripper at Scores in NYC at the turn of the millennium, at which time she developed a righteous addiction to opium. Not herion, opium. She begins her tale in Florida when she a couple years out of high school, and then reveals her wild life from there. She is a skilled storyteller, always ending her posts with a nice kick to the gut or surprisingly sweet sentiment. Her memory is superb, so much so in fact, that I wondered for a time if I was being put on. It has happened before. But she also publishes pictures taken at the time, which she has scanned in. Her debauchery was well documented. In fact, one of the main characters in her stories started reading and sent in what she thinks are more flattering photographs of herself. She's writing her memoirs in hopes to sell it in book form. I hope it works out, because I totally want one.
The story I'm going to tell you is completely factual, as I saw it. It begins in February of 1998, when I was 20 years old.
That's a long time ago, I realize. I am the type of person who can remember conversations verbatim from my childhood, so I'm going to do that as best I can.
My story: I was a stripper during the dot.com boom, a totally different world.