Whores of mankind always seem to have this defacing story about how they got to the point they're at in life right now. It's always someone else's fault and seems to always be some sob story, as if the world and the people in it shouldn't have dumped on their punk-ass existence to begin with. Worthlessness.
You say you're sick of yourself??
WELL I'M SICK OF YOU, TOO!
Here we go with some non-fictitious instances of such blubbering idiots.
There's this younger gal who thinks she knows what love is at the tender age of twenty-four. All through the relationship with her thirty-year old boyfriend, she doesn't bring a hell of a lot of money to the household, but tries on select days to contribute by performing household chores and maybe, MAYBE blows him twice a week just to keep their status somewhat above par.
She's a sellout whore while still taking grandma's coupons during select visits. College has become more of a burden and less of a furtherance in life simply because the drug-dealer she dates says, "School ain't shit, bitch. Yer nothin' without me."
Pimped.
Here's a good one:
I'm up in the deejay booth at work and some customer decides that the cover charge and ridiculous drink prices weren't the sole reason for him to be in the club that night, so Mr. Asshole decides to come up to me and start conversation about the Brewers, what a great job I have, or might I happen to have the faggot-ass song he wants to hear, because then and only then will he feel like someone truly cares about his existence/plight.
Momentarily digressing, do you know how stupid it is for a strip-club customer to request a song? Let's forget about the fact that a true patron shouldn't give a shit about what's coming out the speakers, rather let's focus upon these dickweeds who keep asking to play a song after he's been told no. That just boggles me to no near end. The only people in the world who bitch about not being able to hear their song are actual strippers, prom queens, flamboyant homosexuals who dance at a gay bar, or karaoke participants, i.e.
all bitches. Back on track . . .
So this customer complains about how he's sick of paying a cover, how the girls could quite possibly be more attractive, and that his drink is seemingly watered down despite the bartender appearing as if he were an actual member of this fine, fine country of ours, thus presumably knowing what the fuck he's doing behind the Formica.
Hey, assholes. We're deejays. If we wanted to associate with the general public, we'd be bartending. Just like AIDS and street beggars, stay outta my life, please.
Strokes and Aneurysms: Why haven't I had either yet?
People have said some stupid shit to me over the years. I can't believe my cerebral cortex hasn't imploded simply because of auditory observance. Here are some fine examples that I'm not embellishing and they're not fictitious, either. FYI, I've progressively worked on this portion of the post for about 8 and a half months now, adding shit when I thought of it or after it happened.
Scene: I'm up in the deejay booth and some stripper walks up.
Q: "Do you have that one song by that guy who did that song from that one movie? It was popular like a couple years ago. I don't know the name, but it sounds like this . . ." (broad humming/singing) ". . . and he says something about 'It was all because of you'"
A: "I honestly don't know what song you're referring to, sweetheart, but on a larger note, I'm appalled that American Idol hasn't contacted you yet."
Scene: I'm up in the deejay booth with a bottle of Corona in my hand, which can easily be seen. Some stripper walks up to bother me in some form or give me money.
Q: "You look fucked-up. What have you been drinking?"
A: "Well, I smuggled plutonium in this bottle I have here then freebased it while you were in the dressing room just so I could achieve the ultimate high. A few minutes ago I threw some yellowish liquid in it to make it appear as if I were nursing a beer. Shhh, don't tell anyone I pee in bottles."
Idiots. You say you're sick of yourself? WELL I'M SICK OF YOU, TOO!
Scene: I walk down to the bar for another beer and a stripper stops me while on my way back to complain. This particular stripper is chubby, doesn't wear make-up, and has a bad attitude in general.
Q: "These guys are cheap tonight. I haven't got one single dance so far. It's not me, is it? Do you think I look good in this?"
A: "Baby, I can't even fucking believe Cosmopolitan hasn't called you yet for a cover shot. I'm going to find you an agent because this is pissing me off. You are fine to me, baby. When can you move in?"
Scene: I'm standing behind a gas-station gambler in a liquor store's checkout line. On the counter sets his 12-pack of Miller Lite, a pack of Benson and Hedges and a frozen pizza. The cashier starts typing in his Powerball numbers while I stand behind him with a full case of Twisted Tea in my left hand and half a case of Corona in the right. This prick turns around, looks at everything in my arms and says . . .
Q: "Drinking a little tonight, hey?"
A: "Dude, I'm taking this shit to work and sharing it. Exactly how long do I have to stand here and hold all this while your tomorrow depends on that guy ringing up your numbers correctly?"
Scene: She doesn't have a fucking job and I've worked five-nights straight. This broad is living with me, eating my food, using my electricity, and hasn't sucked my dick in nine days. I come home from work and the dishes aren't done as per my request prior to my leaving, hence, I act short with her once I arrive back home.
Q: "You've been acting weird lately. Did I do something?"
A: "Do you mean outside of turning my couch into your cathedral, or something else? I mean, I guess I could go buy an actual dishwasher. If I did that you could easily just keep sitting there and watch the commercials to your soap operas because that's what I'm all about: giving you more free time."
Scene: I'm drunk off my ass after one of my ex-girlfriends has picked me up from work and now we're back home. I'm seated in the loveseat and she is standing in the kitchen.
Q: "You drink way too much. I can't take it anymore. I told you that my dad drank a lot and I'm not going through that again. You know I hate my mom, but I'll go back there tonight if this is how you're going to keep acting. Is that what you want? If you want me to leave, just say so."
A: "Do I have to get up and open the door for you, or can ya handle it on your own?"
Morons. You say you're sick of yourself? WELL I'M SICK OF YOU, TOO!
Scene: My front room after I've cooked my mother and sister dinner. We're all smoking a cigarette and I'm half-cocked because I'd recently just separated from a whore I thought was the one. My mom seems worried because I'm intoxicated and finally asks . . .
Q: "Why do you keep dating these strippers you work with? Why can't you just find a normal girl?
A: "Umm . . . I guess because of the same reason cavemen couldn't hunt dinosaurs: because they were somewhat near our time, but now they're extinct."
Scene: There was a couple who lived downstairs from me in my apartment complex last year. They had two kids, one about 5'ish and one about 2'ish. Those kids would cry and scream and run around all fucking day while I was trying to sleep after working the night shift. The woman came up the stairs at about 4.a.m. one night to knock on my door because I had just gotten home from work and was watching a movie in surround sound.
Q: "It's late and we can't sleep downstairs because of the bass. Can you turn that down, please?"
A: "Yea, sure. But uhh . . . does this mean when I'm going to try to sleep in about 5 hours from now you'll have a plug of some sort to put in your kid's mouths so I can feel the same peace you're about to get?"
Scene: I'm in a liquor store and I got two armfuls of miscellaneous beer and vodka. I set all the alcoholic beverages on the counter and the towel-head starts ringing it up, and while I'm counting out singles to give to him, he asks me:
Q: "You vant bag?"
A: "No . . . Why don't you just gimme one of the camels you got hiding back there. Have them lift it to my doorstep and I'll splurge for water. You kiddin' me?"
Scene: I'm watching TV with an ex-ex-ex-ex-stripper girlfriend. I believe she (non-smoker) awkwardly enough wasn't drinking but I was, and as we all know, when we drink we also smoke more. I start coughing heavily and she looks over and says:
Q: "Why don't you quit smoking? You sound horrible. Those are going to kill you."
A: "Well, I still haven't snorted coke off the back of a toilet seat then left work early so I could get to my doctor for a prescription I would only grind up and snort that evening then drive home . . . so I think I'm safer on this couch than you were in the car . . . Perhaps next time try Lithium so I might have a chance at catching the point to this."
Scene: I'm in the dressing room and there's some Black, 19-year old stripper who had recently just gotten off stage towards the end of the night.
Q: "I'm not going up again, is I? I can go home?"
A: "Affirmative"
Q: "Whut's dat mean? Do dat mean yea?"
A: "Yes, you're done for the night. You can go home, but tomorrow I want to see your high school diploma or GED equivalent. If you don't have it . . . I understand."
Or let's go with something a little bit more explicit. You ever get so sick of someone's bullshit, a switch of some sort flips in your head and you can't control it, thus you pull off some miraculously felonious action onto another simply because they need some punishment? We might act/behave normal and sincere on most days, but once in a while we transform into the biggest bastard in the area code . . . Helter Skelter. Check my top 10:
10: I've let a stripper suck my dick hours after a different stripper had already sucked my dick, and I didn't bathe.
09: Not too long ago there was this chick I was dating. She'd forced my brain into insanity with her bitching and shitty attitude, so I packed up all her belongings that were in my house, set them in the hallway all nice and neat, then proceeded to urinate on it all while she was sleeping.
08: In the dark, I'd told this one drunk stripper that I was putting a condom on, when really I was pinching my nuts to give myself some foreplay.
07: One stripper wouldn't take it in the ass no matter what I'd said to or did for her. I finally had to breakdown and lie: told her that I'd never done it before and that I wanted her to be the first for me. It worked.
06: There was this one stripper I was dating who had a retarded kid. I mean, for real, the kid had Down Syndrome. One night she got all misty-eyed on me about how her son was going to die sooner than everyone else and I simply said: "Baby, he's going to grow up to be just fine. You're worrying over nothing. Come here." I cuddled with her . . . then fucked her silly and I doubt I cared if her kid lived or died after that.
05: There was this one stripper who swallowed a bunch of pills, claiming she was going to kill herself in my apartment. I secretly turned on the camcorder while she cried into my sofa, then fucked her afterwards. I'm pretty sure I still have it on tape if I looked hard enough (her 'suicide' attempt; not the sex.)
04: One time an ex 'girlfriend' told me she was too good to work at the clubs I work at. Mentally, I ignored all her bullshit then approached her side, bent down for a kiss but then spit in her fucking face because SOMEONE needed to put her ass in check.
03: There was this one stripper I was dating, and we'd gotten off work late, went back to her house. Her FEMALE roommate was there too. I could tell my girl wanted to fuck me and her 'buddy' did as well. I don't smoke weed, but they did, and they got so high that I was able to jerk-off in the bedroom without giving either of them any dick. Son of a bitch, that rules! Why? Because I don't agree with the lesbian lifestyle.
02: In '97, I fucked this one stripper in a hotel room while her six-year old son was sleeping on the floor next to the bed. I'm not proud of it . . . but, c'mon, I'm a guy. We ended up dating . . . then I cheated on her. I might even owe her some money as well. Sorry.
And finally, the number-one piece of shit thing I've done to a stripper . . .
01: Told her "I love you."