5.22.10
the mother-daughter team is a porn shop classic. but this duo set themselves apart as soon as they walked in. the mother was walking with a cane, incredibly slow (though not as slow as her slurred speech). the daughter looked like a million generic punk girls in a black hoodie, hair kind of messy, biting her lip ring, she spoke first:
baby: holy shit do i know you?
me: i don't know maybe.
baby: i swear i just saw you yesterday. where were you at?
me: [i told her where i'd been hanging out] maybe you were there?
baby: no. i swear i just went in to apply somewhere and saw you....do you work anywhere else?
me: not really.
baby: oh. fuck man i don't know. nevermind who cares.
me: right on. so what's up?
just then mama finally made her way around to me. aside from the cane, i notice her eyes are half-closed and most of her skin is hanging off of her. like post-gastric bypass style. with one hand on the counter, she uses a lot of energy to lift her head and look me in the eye. seemingly exhausted, she starts talking.
mama: do you sell vibrators for the clit?
me: oh yeah those are right here.
mama: [picking up a pocket rocket] i bought this one it was just like this but on a keychain and it had three little dots on the top of it. it was really strong. do you have that?
me: no. i know the one you're talking about, though. i can show you something kind of like it.
mama: ok yeah let's see what you have.
i grab a few items and take them over to her at the counter. taking advantage of how close we are to each other, she starts telling me about her life.
mama: i was in the business for 25 years you know? working as a phone sex operator.
me: that's kind of awesome. did you make good money?
mama: oh yes.
(her daughter hears us talking and walks over for a minute)
baby: what's she telling you?
mama: i was just telling her about how i used to do the phone sex.
baby: oh yeah. [she smiles at me and walks away]
me: so why don't you do that anymore?
mama: oh i just got tired of it. 25 years is a long time to do anything.
me: i'm sure it was fun though.
mama: oh it was. i still love to talk dirty. i just don't get paid for it anymore.
i help her decide on the vibrator she wants and she looks around some more....at bumper stickers. meanwhile her daughter is wandering. mama calls for me from the dvd section.
leaning in close enough for me to feel her breath, she starts to fill me in on why her trip to the store was so important.
mama: i'm trying to pick out some things i can send to my boyfriend. i want to send him a package before he comes to see me. i've been with him since december but we've never been together.
me: that's exciting. so what are you going to send him?
mama: well he calls me baby muffin. do you have any stickers here that say muffin or baby muffin or something about being dominant or submissive? he's the dominant one in our relationship.
me: no i don't think so.
mama: ok then what about dvds?
me: sure. what kind do you want?
mama: do you have any bisexual ones? one with a man having sex with another man and a woman. he's bisexual and he told me he got a playgirl the other day and really like it.
me: well we have some here.
mama: which one is good? can i tell you what he likes? he likes men with really nice bodies. he's into bodybuilding so he likes men that are in shape. he says to me, "a man's cock is beautiful." do you have anything he'd like?
i grab a few random dvds and she picks a couple gay ones.
mama: what about these? do any of these have black men in them? he thinks they have the best cocks.
me: [i grab the dvds out of her hand and check] no. all white. well this guy looks latino.
mama: do they have hard bodies?
me: yeah, seems like he'll like this one. the other one looks a lot older.
baby: hey can we get goin now? what are you doing? don't send him a whole bunch of crap just to be sendin it.
mama: ok ok. we can go now. i better get some batteries too. give me two packs of them.
she mumbled something to her daughter at the register while she paid and they left.
less than an hour passes....
the phone rings. on the other end is a familiar voice.
"the vibrator you just sold me is broken. i apologize for sounding like such a bitch. i'm not even supposed to be driving because i just had back surgery. ok? i'm taking oxycontins and all kinds of other medicine right now. i don't even have a car so i have to wait for my friend to come over. she said she'll let me borrow her car to go grocery shopping and do what i need to do. i apologize i really am sorry. what was your name sweetheart?"
"sara."
her second visit to the store didn't last as long but she packed a lot of biographical information in there for me.
she explained to me that she was so frustrated because the toy stopped working before she got a chance to use it on the phone with her "boyfriend." and that's when she started to tell me all about their relationship.
she told me about three more times that he thinks "a man's cock is beautiful" and that she was just going to be with him for the first time memorial weekend.
mama: you know, some of my friends think i'm stupid or crazy for being with him. they just don't understand. we talk on the phone a lot besides the phone sex and he just starts talking and i get so lost...he told me he'd take a bullet for me. nobody's ever cared about me like that before. my friends think that it's crazy that we've never seen each other before. they tell me i should protect my heart. i won't listen to them.
me: do whatever you want.
mama: that's right i'm going to. do you remember in february when it snowed a lot? he sent me flowers. he told me he loves me. remember we had a snowstorm? i didn't get my delivery that day because of it and then look...
(she fumbled around with her phone for a minute. apparently looking for a picture)
...here it is. i was on the phone with him when they came. he said. what day is today? today is george washington's birthday and i'm in love with you.
for a second she looked alive. just a second, though.
mama: i'm going to bring him in here when he comes to see me. you can see what he looks like. i want to get a tattoo, too. who does them? he calls me baby muffin so i'm either going to get it to say that right here [points to vagina] or it'll say "daddy's pussy"
me: that'll be awesome.
mama: yeah. ok well i'm going home now. this one you gave me works, right? and you put the batteries in there for me?
me: yep. you're all set.
mama: ok have a good weekend, sara. you've been such a sweetheart.
there had been a girl at the counter waiting to pay for a minute. when i apologized for the other woman lingering for so long, she said to me:
"oh, i thought you guys were friends."
i wish.
5.28.2010
5.25.2010
be vewy, vewy cweepy
5.21.10
we open at ten and by five after there were already three people in the store when in walked a fourth. this guy stood out against the other random customers walking around....i got an uneasy feeling when he walked in. his head was shaved. a short man made to look even shorter by his cut-off-cargo-pants-socks-pulled-up combo. i write down "elmer fudd" on a piece of paper. he was looking at shoes the entire time there were other people in the store and as soon as we were alone he made his move. back toward the magazines...i was safe. still aware of his presence, although oblivious to his exact location, i went back to counting.
made my way to check my phone behind the counter for a second before i catch something in the corner of my eye. this guy is crouched down next to me. looking me dead in the eye. at this point, i'm even more creeped out but he seems familiar so i go with it.
"oh sorry. did you need something?"
elmer: do you have any of those shoes over there in another size?
me: no that's all we have left. that's why they're on sale. would you like me to call another store?
elmer: ah that's alright. i already stopped by your other store over there at [i'd tell you but i'd have to kill you] i was just looking for my friend. i like buying her shoes but i'm not too sure about the size. i just tried calling her but she hasn't answered.
me: maybe she's sleeping. it's still early.
elmer: yeah maybe. but i haven't been able to get ahold of her for about two weeks. she needed some money so she took off to work as a carny. i don't know where she's at right now but she isn't calling me back.
me: (dying inside) something must be up.
elmer: yeah, i know. but i don't want to just buy them without talking to her first because shoes are meant to be worn and loved. i'm not gonna buy any for her unless she loves them. i love shoes. shoes and boots...you women don't know what it does to us when you're walking around with pretty, painted toes.
we talk for a minute and he walks around the counter when another person walks in.
then out.
and then we're alone again.
elmer walks up to me and by now he's sweating. it's gross. since his head's shaved i can't tell where it's coming from. i cringe at the thought of sweat dripping on the counter when he leans on it to continue his story.
elmer: there was this other girl i used to buy presents for. i really like to help my friends. she was a manager at a mcdonald's but she was a fetish model, too. i used to buy her all kinds of crazy heels and boots. i took her shopping and it was like i was releasing my inner richard gere. you know like in pretty woman?
me: that's nice of you.
elmer: yeah well i'm gonna go to this document-shredding event coming up. i went last year. the fetish model, that's the last time i saw her. she hasn't been on facebook or anything like that. but that's why i'm going this year. she'll be there.
(the next thing he said, he whispered as though it were some big secret)
"i'm really going to just remind her that i'm hotter than the guy she's with now."
IDOUBTIT
the conversation continues...
elmer: i took her shopping for a whole bunch of clothes once. you know what size she wears? a zero! it was hard to find her size in anything. you know, you're the kind of person i'd go for. i don't care what's up top, you could be flat. actually, that's better.
me: (taken aback by the sudden shift of focus to my body) oh. people are into all kinds of different things i guess.
elmer: when's your birthday?
me: it was last week
elmer: you're kidding. mine's may 16th. you know who else is a sixteener?
we open at ten and by five after there were already three people in the store when in walked a fourth. this guy stood out against the other random customers walking around....i got an uneasy feeling when he walked in. his head was shaved. a short man made to look even shorter by his cut-off-cargo-pants-socks-pulled-up combo. i write down "elmer fudd" on a piece of paper. he was looking at shoes the entire time there were other people in the store and as soon as we were alone he made his move. back toward the magazines...i was safe. still aware of his presence, although oblivious to his exact location, i went back to counting.
made my way to check my phone behind the counter for a second before i catch something in the corner of my eye. this guy is crouched down next to me. looking me dead in the eye. at this point, i'm even more creeped out but he seems familiar so i go with it.
"oh sorry. did you need something?"
elmer: do you have any of those shoes over there in another size?
me: no that's all we have left. that's why they're on sale. would you like me to call another store?
elmer: ah that's alright. i already stopped by your other store over there at [i'd tell you but i'd have to kill you] i was just looking for my friend. i like buying her shoes but i'm not too sure about the size. i just tried calling her but she hasn't answered.
me: maybe she's sleeping. it's still early.
elmer: yeah maybe. but i haven't been able to get ahold of her for about two weeks. she needed some money so she took off to work as a carny. i don't know where she's at right now but she isn't calling me back.
me: (dying inside) something must be up.
elmer: yeah, i know. but i don't want to just buy them without talking to her first because shoes are meant to be worn and loved. i'm not gonna buy any for her unless she loves them. i love shoes. shoes and boots...you women don't know what it does to us when you're walking around with pretty, painted toes.
we talk for a minute and he walks around the counter when another person walks in.
then out.
and then we're alone again.
elmer walks up to me and by now he's sweating. it's gross. since his head's shaved i can't tell where it's coming from. i cringe at the thought of sweat dripping on the counter when he leans on it to continue his story.
elmer: there was this other girl i used to buy presents for. i really like to help my friends. she was a manager at a mcdonald's but she was a fetish model, too. i used to buy her all kinds of crazy heels and boots. i took her shopping and it was like i was releasing my inner richard gere. you know like in pretty woman?
me: that's nice of you.
elmer: yeah well i'm gonna go to this document-shredding event coming up. i went last year. the fetish model, that's the last time i saw her. she hasn't been on facebook or anything like that. but that's why i'm going this year. she'll be there.
(the next thing he said, he whispered as though it were some big secret)
"i'm really going to just remind her that i'm hotter than the guy she's with now."
IDOUBTIT
the conversation continues...
elmer: i took her shopping for a whole bunch of clothes once. you know what size she wears? a zero! it was hard to find her size in anything. you know, you're the kind of person i'd go for. i don't care what's up top, you could be flat. actually, that's better.
me: (taken aback by the sudden shift of focus to my body) oh. people are into all kinds of different things i guess.
elmer: when's your birthday?
me: it was last week
elmer: you're kidding. mine's may 16th. you know who else is a sixteener?
"Debra Winger
Tori Spelling
David Bonanza, Borener...the guy from Angel and Bones
Megan Fox
Jack Morris
Billy Martin
Pierce Brosnan
Janet Jackson, who just got her hair cut and looks fantastic"
there's a lot of us out there, man.
he tells me a story about getting drunk and lets me in on a secret...burnt toast is good for hangovers. "the charcoal helps absorb the alcohol and stuff that's making you sick and the bread gets the rest." i said i'd try it.
a few more customers come and go and dude is still talking my ear off. sometimes i ask questions to get information out of people but on this particular morning i had work to do so it was starting to wear on my patience.
and then he snapped his fingers. "i remember you now! i talked to you about bands last time i was in here." it rang a bell, i definitely remembered him. and our conversation about bands was nothing more than him rattling off names while i yay or nayed hearing them before. but of course i went along with it.
me: yeah i remember you too now. right on. what do you have to do today? <-- my way of trying to encourage someone to leave (of course he didn't get it)
elmer: oh i have a couple jobs to go do today.
me: yeah? like what? what's your deal?
elmer: i'm a garden designer. and i cut some grass on the side.
me: that's cool.
elmer: i like to grow pot sometimes, too. i found the perfect spot to start these next ones up. it's behind this comic book shop. man, nobody goes back there. i'll throw the seeds out there, let em sprout up, then i'll take em home and hide em throughout my backyard in different spots. you know, they give off a heat signature that those cameras can pick up so you gotta be careful. listen if you ever want to get into that let me know. i have a lot of tips i can give you.
me: yeah, for sure.
elmer: (looks at his phone) well, i don't think she's calling me back. i was going to help with her rent, by the way. pfft, chyea, whatever. i'll see you around. what's your name?
me: sara
elmer: my one friend calls me damian. like from that band elvis hitler.
me: ok. see ya.
i wonder how many friends he has.
5.19.2010
sex shop/land of discovery
5.11.10
"HEY WHAT'S YOUR CHEAPEST DILDO!?" i should start keeping track of how many people yell as soon as they walk through the door.
this woman waddles over to the counter and leans forward to catch her breath. she's got her hair wrapped up in a bandana, black tall tee, and swishy pants (with only two stripes--not adidas). i ask her a question, "dildo or vibrator?" i have to ask these things because a lot of the time most people don't know there's a difference or just call every sex toy a dildo and get mad at me/waste my time. in this case, it was a good thing i asked.
"i don't know show me some things." i pick up a couple different items and ask her what she's looking for. "do you want something more for g-spot or clitoris? or both?" i get a blank stare. mouth open. head tilted back. catatonic. "what do you mean? what's that for?" LADY! COME ON! i actually feel bad for people like her just because it freaks me out to think about going through life knowing nothing about my own body...and makes me wonder what other types of things one would be ignorant to.
she's "just lookin today" so i go back to waiting for something cool to happen. the woman stops. there goes that bottom jaw again. i hear her friend (she had someone with her but she didn't say much. i'm pretty sure she stole something) trying to get her attention "ey. EY!" the awestruck friend holds up her hand in a *just one second* way and then she speaks. revealing what's on her mind: "hold on i'm tryna find out if he gay." she's looking at a box to a strap-on. on the box is a photograph of a woman wearing the harness, smiling, pointing it towards a man's ass. [the woman looks stoked. this picture really captures the spirit of the product]
i was content with eavesdropping, having no active role in the conversation when i was pulled in.
"hey excu-use me i want to ask you a question. would you ever poke your nigga in the ass? ain't that shit gay?"
i was annoyed. this woman was rude from the moment she showed up and her stupidity was at this point making me feel angry. so i explained to her "well, prostate stimulation doesn't have anything to do with sexual orientation. and homosexual means same sex so if you're doing it then no, no it's not gay." i lost her at prostate. her jaw flapped open and she cocked her head to the side. luckily she hadn't realized i was being a bitch (she definitely would have won in a fight) "hmph. shiiit, i wish my nigga would do that."
"HEY WHAT'S YOUR CHEAPEST DILDO!?" i should start keeping track of how many people yell as soon as they walk through the door.
this woman waddles over to the counter and leans forward to catch her breath. she's got her hair wrapped up in a bandana, black tall tee, and swishy pants (with only two stripes--not adidas). i ask her a question, "dildo or vibrator?" i have to ask these things because a lot of the time most people don't know there's a difference or just call every sex toy a dildo and get mad at me/waste my time. in this case, it was a good thing i asked.
"i don't know show me some things." i pick up a couple different items and ask her what she's looking for. "do you want something more for g-spot or clitoris? or both?" i get a blank stare. mouth open. head tilted back. catatonic. "what do you mean? what's that for?" LADY! COME ON! i actually feel bad for people like her just because it freaks me out to think about going through life knowing nothing about my own body...and makes me wonder what other types of things one would be ignorant to.
she's "just lookin today" so i go back to waiting for something cool to happen. the woman stops. there goes that bottom jaw again. i hear her friend (she had someone with her but she didn't say much. i'm pretty sure she stole something) trying to get her attention "ey. EY!" the awestruck friend holds up her hand in a *just one second* way and then she speaks. revealing what's on her mind: "hold on i'm tryna find out if he gay." she's looking at a box to a strap-on. on the box is a photograph of a woman wearing the harness, smiling, pointing it towards a man's ass. [the woman looks stoked. this picture really captures the spirit of the product]
i was content with eavesdropping, having no active role in the conversation when i was pulled in.
"hey excu-use me i want to ask you a question. would you ever poke your nigga in the ass? ain't that shit gay?"
i was annoyed. this woman was rude from the moment she showed up and her stupidity was at this point making me feel angry. so i explained to her "well, prostate stimulation doesn't have anything to do with sexual orientation. and homosexual means same sex so if you're doing it then no, no it's not gay." i lost her at prostate. her jaw flapped open and she cocked her head to the side. luckily she hadn't realized i was being a bitch (she definitely would have won in a fight) "hmph. shiiit, i wish my nigga would do that."
5.10.2010
spotlight on diversity
5.4.2010
90% of the elderly people who walk through the doors of my shop have no idea what they're doing there or what kind of store they've wandered into. sometimes it's funny, when they look around and comment on things they've never seen before/haven't the slightest clue what to do with some of the items. most of the time it's pretty uneventful: an old lady sees a giant dildo or an inflatable butt plug and turns right around. and then there are women like the one who came in last week. you know the type....southern, old-school, uncensored, as politically incorrect as they come. that was this lady. she looked like a cross between aunt jemima, those racist cookie jars, and whoopi goldberg in "the color purple." and she was dressed, head to toe, in purple. headwrap, button-down tunic, floor-length skirt, and orthopedic sneakers made of floral canvas with a clear platform. despite the fact that she was missing a front tooth, she smiled a lot.
she walked in from the heat fanning herself. i'm the only one in the store and with her southern (i'm guessing alabama/louisiana) drawl she asked me "do y'all sell breastforms here? not the kind you just stick in ya braw but the ones like sissies wear." yeah, she said sissies. she then motioned to her breasts and held her hands out in front of them so as to show me how large she'd like them. i tell her politely, "no, we don't have those here. i know of a place where cross-dressers and transsexuals go to get most of their things but it's not very close to here." she asks me, "so you don't get a lot of sissies in here? because i know i've been seein men walkin round here holdin hands and kissin and oh boy you wouldn't a seen none of that where i grew up." i didn't say anything much more than "oh" before she asked me to write down the address of the place i had mentioned. i obliged and handed her the piece of paper.
shoes has become a checkpoint of sorts. it feels like every time something worth writing about happens, something goes on near the display. aunt whoopi was on her way out when she stopped to look at what we had. she picks up a pair of 7-inch clear heels and says "i think they're pretty. you ever dance?" i told her about my stint as a stripper and she asked me bluntly, "you do any of that extra stuff to make yourself some money?" i honestly answer her, "no, but a lot of girls do. i guess if you don't have a problem with it, do what you want. i just never really wanted to make money that badly i guess. it was mostly something i did that was fun. and i just quit when it wasn't fun anymore." she smiled at me and said, "well that's a good thing, child. you know every man just wants to screw and if he wants it bad enough, he'll go out lookin for it. you know those dancers out west, they're makin a while lotta money. yeah, them and they got those chicken houses out there, too! it's normal to make money off of havin all kinds of sex out there."
we had a brief conversation about screwing and what strip clubs were better known for their extra services before she left.
___________________________
tweekers, crackheads, coked-out strippers...they love the porn shop. usually, i don't see them since they mainly come out at night. but on day shift, i sometimes get lucky. this guy wasn't any of the aforementioned, but was definitely displaying some of the mannerisms: clenched jaw/gum chomping, pacing around the store, constantly putting his hands in his pockets and pulling nothing out, i swear he didn't blink more than ten times in the hour he spent in the store. i tried to keep up with him/come up with different ways of "checking up" on him without pissing him off or seeming rude, but each time i attempted to make eye contact, he nervously looked away and would start touching things (i assumed out of nervousness). another customer i had in the store left and that's when this guy decided to open up to me.
he asked me what it was like working there just like every other person to ever come into the store and i gave him some generic answers. he let me know he was waiting for his "friend" to call him back or come up to the store and decide if the liberator we had in stock was the right one. while he waited, he told me all kinds of things about his life. turns out he had just gotten home about ten days before. he was a marine. when i asked how long he was home for he said, "hopefully not long. i'm trying to get back in. i hate civilian life. it's not for me."
"get back in? what do you mean?"
"i spent the last two years in a military prison."
"what'd you do? sorry, i shouldn't ask that. i've got a bad habit of asking too many questions."
"no, no it's alright. i did what i had to do. they tried to say that i went beyond what i should have. those motherfuckers weren't there. i did what had to be done."
"so you're out of prison...out of the service? dishonorable discharge and all of that?"
"yes ma'am. as soon as i got back here i started working on my case to get back in. it's the only thing i love doinfightin's what i got in me."
"well good luck with all that. what was prison like?"
*at this point, he lifted up his shirt to show me where he had been stabbed over his heart. hard to miss was his iron cross tattoo covering the scar. he also had one of these in the center of his chest:
not all of his tattoos were so white power, he also had a black and gray Chucky tattoo on his right arm. (while irrelevant, i felt that was worth mentioning)
This might not be the type of conversation most people would enjoy, but i've got such a fascination with prison gangs, the Brotherhood in particular. I've only talked to a few other people who've been involved with them but their stories are pretty similar for the most part.
"well, when i first got into the prison here (stateside) i had to figure out how it was gonna be for me. i'm sure you've figured out my affiliation by my tattoos."
"well, yeah it's pretty obvious. how'd you get into all that, though?"
"well there's a story behind it. not too many guys could pronounce my last name except for the 'berg' when i first got there. then one day, i was carrying a bag with me when this guy tried to grab it. i kicked him in the chest and knocked him back. after i fucked him up, a bunch of guys invited me in with them. they all called mossberg. said i could kick like a shotgun."
he didn't get into details as far as the Brotherhood goes and i didn't ask any more questions. instead, he taught me a trick some guys use in prison to get off. since i personally have no use for this information, maybe someone who reads this will try it out.
HOW TO MAKE A POCKET PUSSY: PRISON EDITION
step 1. take two latex gloves and fill them with liquid of your choice. the thicker the liquid, the better (one guy apparently used bread pudding when it was available)
step 2. tie off the ends of the gloves so the liquid doesn't come out
step 3. tie the fingers of the gloves together, creating a pocket between the two "palms"
step 4. find a lubricant: spit, olive oil, butter, soap, etc. and apply it to the penis
step 5. fuck the space between the two gloves (remember! more pressure=tighter feeling)
i asked if he'd ever done it and rather than give me a straight answer, he just said, "in prison, you get bored and you come up with lots of different ways of staying entertained." then he told me about one time he went to get an apple from the walk-in and caught a guy using some gloves to get off. i laughed and asked him if he watched. he didn't think that was funny.
he saw some mints on the counter and started talking about oral sex and the whole mint/cinnamon/cough drop thing....gave me some advice and suggested i try them with my boyfriend. he bought some cheap little thing--said he felt like he should since he had taken up so much of my time. when he paid with a card, i asked for id and all he had was his inmate badge. he said he has fun with it at church (he's gone with his grandma since returning). when he was asked why he was sent to prison in the first place his response was, "i was a choir boy and i ended up killing a priest." then he laughed. for a good minute. without blinking. i wonder if his grandma thought it was that funny.
__________________
90% of the elderly people who walk through the doors of my shop have no idea what they're doing there or what kind of store they've wandered into. sometimes it's funny, when they look around and comment on things they've never seen before/haven't the slightest clue what to do with some of the items. most of the time it's pretty uneventful: an old lady sees a giant dildo or an inflatable butt plug and turns right around. and then there are women like the one who came in last week. you know the type....southern, old-school, uncensored, as politically incorrect as they come. that was this lady. she looked like a cross between aunt jemima, those racist cookie jars, and whoopi goldberg in "the color purple." and she was dressed, head to toe, in purple. headwrap, button-down tunic, floor-length skirt, and orthopedic sneakers made of floral canvas with a clear platform. despite the fact that she was missing a front tooth, she smiled a lot.
she walked in from the heat fanning herself. i'm the only one in the store and with her southern (i'm guessing alabama/louisiana) drawl she asked me "do y'all sell breastforms here? not the kind you just stick in ya braw but the ones like sissies wear." yeah, she said sissies. she then motioned to her breasts and held her hands out in front of them so as to show me how large she'd like them. i tell her politely, "no, we don't have those here. i know of a place where cross-dressers and transsexuals go to get most of their things but it's not very close to here." she asks me, "so you don't get a lot of sissies in here? because i know i've been seein men walkin round here holdin hands and kissin and oh boy you wouldn't a seen none of that where i grew up." i didn't say anything much more than "oh" before she asked me to write down the address of the place i had mentioned. i obliged and handed her the piece of paper.
shoes has become a checkpoint of sorts. it feels like every time something worth writing about happens, something goes on near the display. aunt whoopi was on her way out when she stopped to look at what we had. she picks up a pair of 7-inch clear heels and says "i think they're pretty. you ever dance?" i told her about my stint as a stripper and she asked me bluntly, "you do any of that extra stuff to make yourself some money?" i honestly answer her, "no, but a lot of girls do. i guess if you don't have a problem with it, do what you want. i just never really wanted to make money that badly i guess. it was mostly something i did that was fun. and i just quit when it wasn't fun anymore." she smiled at me and said, "well that's a good thing, child. you know every man just wants to screw and if he wants it bad enough, he'll go out lookin for it. you know those dancers out west, they're makin a while lotta money. yeah, them and they got those chicken houses out there, too! it's normal to make money off of havin all kinds of sex out there."
we had a brief conversation about screwing and what strip clubs were better known for their extra services before she left.
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tweekers, crackheads, coked-out strippers...they love the porn shop. usually, i don't see them since they mainly come out at night. but on day shift, i sometimes get lucky. this guy wasn't any of the aforementioned, but was definitely displaying some of the mannerisms: clenched jaw/gum chomping, pacing around the store, constantly putting his hands in his pockets and pulling nothing out, i swear he didn't blink more than ten times in the hour he spent in the store. i tried to keep up with him/come up with different ways of "checking up" on him without pissing him off or seeming rude, but each time i attempted to make eye contact, he nervously looked away and would start touching things (i assumed out of nervousness). another customer i had in the store left and that's when this guy decided to open up to me.
he asked me what it was like working there just like every other person to ever come into the store and i gave him some generic answers. he let me know he was waiting for his "friend" to call him back or come up to the store and decide if the liberator we had in stock was the right one. while he waited, he told me all kinds of things about his life. turns out he had just gotten home about ten days before. he was a marine. when i asked how long he was home for he said, "hopefully not long. i'm trying to get back in. i hate civilian life. it's not for me."
"get back in? what do you mean?"
"i spent the last two years in a military prison."
"what'd you do? sorry, i shouldn't ask that. i've got a bad habit of asking too many questions."
"no, no it's alright. i did what i had to do. they tried to say that i went beyond what i should have. those motherfuckers weren't there. i did what had to be done."
"so you're out of prison...out of the service? dishonorable discharge and all of that?"
"yes ma'am. as soon as i got back here i started working on my case to get back in. it's the only thing i love doinfightin's what i got in me."
"well good luck with all that. what was prison like?"
*at this point, he lifted up his shirt to show me where he had been stabbed over his heart. hard to miss was his iron cross tattoo covering the scar. he also had one of these in the center of his chest:
not all of his tattoos were so white power, he also had a black and gray Chucky tattoo on his right arm. (while irrelevant, i felt that was worth mentioning)
This might not be the type of conversation most people would enjoy, but i've got such a fascination with prison gangs, the Brotherhood in particular. I've only talked to a few other people who've been involved with them but their stories are pretty similar for the most part.
"well, when i first got into the prison here (stateside) i had to figure out how it was gonna be for me. i'm sure you've figured out my affiliation by my tattoos."
"well, yeah it's pretty obvious. how'd you get into all that, though?"
"well there's a story behind it. not too many guys could pronounce my last name except for the 'berg' when i first got there. then one day, i was carrying a bag with me when this guy tried to grab it. i kicked him in the chest and knocked him back. after i fucked him up, a bunch of guys invited me in with them. they all called mossberg. said i could kick like a shotgun."
he didn't get into details as far as the Brotherhood goes and i didn't ask any more questions. instead, he taught me a trick some guys use in prison to get off. since i personally have no use for this information, maybe someone who reads this will try it out.
HOW TO MAKE A POCKET PUSSY: PRISON EDITION
step 1. take two latex gloves and fill them with liquid of your choice. the thicker the liquid, the better (one guy apparently used bread pudding when it was available)
step 2. tie off the ends of the gloves so the liquid doesn't come out
step 3. tie the fingers of the gloves together, creating a pocket between the two "palms"
step 4. find a lubricant: spit, olive oil, butter, soap, etc. and apply it to the penis
step 5. fuck the space between the two gloves (remember! more pressure=tighter feeling)
i asked if he'd ever done it and rather than give me a straight answer, he just said, "in prison, you get bored and you come up with lots of different ways of staying entertained." then he told me about one time he went to get an apple from the walk-in and caught a guy using some gloves to get off. i laughed and asked him if he watched. he didn't think that was funny.
he saw some mints on the counter and started talking about oral sex and the whole mint/cinnamon/cough drop thing....gave me some advice and suggested i try them with my boyfriend. he bought some cheap little thing--said he felt like he should since he had taken up so much of my time. when he paid with a card, i asked for id and all he had was his inmate badge. he said he has fun with it at church (he's gone with his grandma since returning). when he was asked why he was sent to prison in the first place his response was, "i was a choir boy and i ended up killing a priest." then he laughed. for a good minute. without blinking. i wonder if his grandma thought it was that funny.
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5.03.2010
in the name of the cripple, the bowleg, and the six dollars they spent
i'm standing behind the counter like always when three women walk in two women walk in pushing a wheelchair. one is tall and thin presenting a decent amount of cleavage. the other is short, fat, bow-legged, and appears to be wearing the same size shirt as the thin one. the woman in the wheelchair has two-inch long fake nails, tinted glasses, fake lashes, a ring on every finger, gold watch, and red lipstick. she also has one leg [good thing i have an amputee phobia] covered in fishnet and on her one foot, a 4-inch stiletto. "stilos" (pronounced stee-lows) she calls them. once i've taken it all in, i look away and say hello to the trio. the big girl squeals at the sight of a high-heel shoe chair before straddling it and exclaiming, "imagine the shit you could do on this, girl!" i laugh which causes her to look over her shoulder at me-still hugging the chair-smile, and say "oh, how you doin?" hell of an entrance.
the thin girl picks up some display shoes and starts to try them on. i let her know about some sale and the lady in the chair says, "ooh look they got my stilos!" and asks me what comes in a 9. i can't put words to how uncomfortable i was when i bent down to help her and found myself inches away from where her right foot would have been. i tried hard not to show how legitimately afraid i was when she asked, "now, do i get half off since i only need one shoe?" that was all it took. from then on, we were cool. and i said to her, "that's great...i'm sure you mess with people all the time like that."
"oh i have to...i'll ask if i can get half off shoes or if there's anyway i can get two lefts. girl, you should see the way people look at me when i say all that." the big girl looks at me and says, "really, she do. everywhere we go."
hung out by the shoes for a minute before the crew made their way to "all the nasty stuff back there." big girl sees something she likes: "CLONE-A-DICK! so i can really tell that boyfriend to get the fuck on. after i get a clone of his dick." all three laugh and the one-legged woman *high-fives who i've learned by now are her daughters. they browse some more before the daughters walk around the counter and leave their mother. the big girl says, "mama, come here." then i hear, "child, i can't move over there i've got too much stuff in my hands." i look up and notice the woman's chair is facing opposite the direction she needs to go, she's got a purse in one hand, and a paper bag in the other. i offer to hold something for her and she hands me the paper bag which i set on the counter. i wanted to look inside so badly but i didn't...when they left she said "oh i forgot my tacos" for those of you were wondering. anyway, i take her bag and she reverses it and rolls toward her girls.
i knew she'd flip over the stocking selection since it was obvious she took pride in her leg, what with the way she had decorated it and all. i learned she had a penchant for lace and took a mental note that we needed some more of that on my next order. her daughters browsed and brought over a nurse outfit to show her. "oh you wanna play doctor? i'm gonna clean him up and beat his ass in that."
i sensed our time together was coming to an end when i rang up some fake eyelashes for mom and a pair of fishnets for the skinny, silent daughter. the big girl didn't get anything because we were out of the "bigger and better dildo" she had her heart set on. she assured me she would be back. mom said to no one in particular, "soon i get my money on my card, ima rack up on some sexy shit."
the skinny girl headed for the door and big girl got behind the chair. when she went to turn her around she slammed her mom's only leg into a wooden box on the floor and then the wall. her mom said, "oh my goodness, child! destruction!" i couldn't help but laugh. it was cool, they both did the same. the mom talked shit to her daughter about not being a good "driver."
then they rolled out.
*is it a low-five since she's in a wheelchair?
the thin girl picks up some display shoes and starts to try them on. i let her know about some sale and the lady in the chair says, "ooh look they got my stilos!" and asks me what comes in a 9. i can't put words to how uncomfortable i was when i bent down to help her and found myself inches away from where her right foot would have been. i tried hard not to show how legitimately afraid i was when she asked, "now, do i get half off since i only need one shoe?" that was all it took. from then on, we were cool. and i said to her, "that's great...i'm sure you mess with people all the time like that."
"oh i have to...i'll ask if i can get half off shoes or if there's anyway i can get two lefts. girl, you should see the way people look at me when i say all that." the big girl looks at me and says, "really, she do. everywhere we go."
hung out by the shoes for a minute before the crew made their way to "all the nasty stuff back there." big girl sees something she likes: "CLONE-A-DICK! so i can really tell that boyfriend to get the fuck on. after i get a clone of his dick." all three laugh and the one-legged woman *high-fives who i've learned by now are her daughters. they browse some more before the daughters walk around the counter and leave their mother. the big girl says, "mama, come here." then i hear, "child, i can't move over there i've got too much stuff in my hands." i look up and notice the woman's chair is facing opposite the direction she needs to go, she's got a purse in one hand, and a paper bag in the other. i offer to hold something for her and she hands me the paper bag which i set on the counter. i wanted to look inside so badly but i didn't...when they left she said "oh i forgot my tacos" for those of you were wondering. anyway, i take her bag and she reverses it and rolls toward her girls.
i knew she'd flip over the stocking selection since it was obvious she took pride in her leg, what with the way she had decorated it and all. i learned she had a penchant for lace and took a mental note that we needed some more of that on my next order. her daughters browsed and brought over a nurse outfit to show her. "oh you wanna play doctor? i'm gonna clean him up and beat his ass in that."
i sensed our time together was coming to an end when i rang up some fake eyelashes for mom and a pair of fishnets for the skinny, silent daughter. the big girl didn't get anything because we were out of the "bigger and better dildo" she had her heart set on. she assured me she would be back. mom said to no one in particular, "soon i get my money on my card, ima rack up on some sexy shit."
the skinny girl headed for the door and big girl got behind the chair. when she went to turn her around she slammed her mom's only leg into a wooden box on the floor and then the wall. her mom said, "oh my goodness, child! destruction!" i couldn't help but laugh. it was cool, they both did the same. the mom talked shit to her daughter about not being a good "driver."
then they rolled out.
*is it a low-five since she's in a wheelchair?
5.02.2010
hunk of burning (child) love
if johnny cash and vegas-style elvis had a black lovechild, this woman would have been it. as soon as she walks through the door, i see rhinestones of blue and silver all over her shirt--which is black with an oversized lapel and it's tucked into black jeans. jeans, i might add, that look as though they'll bust at any moment. black belt/huge buckle (of course). she was stylin! did i mention she had a lazy eye? she did.
as she makes her way through the store, i get to know her. about her boyfriend that her kids don't approve of. how she hasn't had sex in almost ten years and she's ready to "get sexy." she was a pretty average customer (besides her outfit)...in the beginning.
when she reached the back of the store, she started looking at all kinds of toys. she didn't ask any questions about things she could use for herself or her boyfriend. instead, she was curious to learn about what we had for men to use. i show her some pocket pussies and explain to her their basic function. here's when she set herself apart....the next things to come out of her mouth were to be some of the more memorable comments a customer has ever made. some of them upsetting, others hilarious....
elvis on pocket pussies: "if they got this, why do they need to mess with little kids? why can't they just use these on themselves and leave those little kids alone? i had to go to court the other day because i just found out my grandbaby was abused by my daughter's boyfriend. i swear i almost passed out in that courtroom. i saw him and i saw that little girl gettin upset and trying to hide and child, i couldn't breathe. i was so mad. why they need to mess with little kids like that? maybe if he had something like this, he would have left her alone."
i explained to her it wasn't that simple...that the point of "messing with kids" had very little to do with just trying to get off and that the child is a necessary component. it's disturbing to me how little is understood about pedophilia...maybe i watch too much SVU.
anyway, she tells me some more of her grandchild's molestation and just when i feel like i should either give her a hug or throw up, she walks away. she doesn't go far at all. about ten steps, actually. she was practically on the verge of tears when all of a sudden, she speaks: OOOH I LOVE ME SOME SEXY SEXY STOCKINGS!
okay?....
she continues her way back around to the front of the store and abruptly changes the subject again. this time, the topic is her weight loss through belly dancing. belly dancing that, like her boyfriend, her kids don't agree with. "they say i'm too old to be doing that kind of stuff. can you believe i'm 51 years old?" (i can. she looks even older than that, but i tell her no anyway) "they say that belly dancing really helps to flatten out your stomach. i don't want to be too skinny though, nobody likes that. i wanna keep some of these curves." **i should have mentioned before that this woman had more of an ass in the front so when she says "curves" i immediately picture her naked. [that's definitely something i wish i could turn off...gross] "i'm going to wait until i lose some weight before i buy anything like this (holds up some lingerie) but i'm glad i know you're here now. ima definitely be back here. you know what i don't understand? [at this point, i hope you've realized that this woman is incapable of staying on one particular subject for more than a few minutes and fails to make any attempt at a segue onto another] i don't see how people can get up to be five, six hundred pounds. and who are these people who keep on feeding them. they stay in bed their whole life. i think the people givin them whatever they want must want to keep them that way. it's just disgusting to me. they can't shower. can't do anything. that ain't no kind of life."
i agree with her last statement. she starts fanning herself. "ooh i've got an infection right now and i can't breathe because i've got asthma, too. woo, child! it hurts." should i have let her use my inhaler? i'll never know. she jumps back onto the topic of morbid obesity as she pays for some random items. "i don't understand how people get so big. the food's still gonna be there when you die. you'll never be able to eat all of it." <--- that's what you'd call wisdom
i tell her i hope everything works out with her family (i figured since our conversation was so fragmented and disorganized that it wouldn't throw her off) and that i'm sorry she's dealing with so much. she smiles at me and leaves. with the door open, she waves to me and puts on a pair of sunglasses. "thank you, child. i'll be back soon! need to get me some of that sexy, sexy."
as she makes her way through the store, i get to know her. about her boyfriend that her kids don't approve of. how she hasn't had sex in almost ten years and she's ready to "get sexy." she was a pretty average customer (besides her outfit)...in the beginning.
when she reached the back of the store, she started looking at all kinds of toys. she didn't ask any questions about things she could use for herself or her boyfriend. instead, she was curious to learn about what we had for men to use. i show her some pocket pussies and explain to her their basic function. here's when she set herself apart....the next things to come out of her mouth were to be some of the more memorable comments a customer has ever made. some of them upsetting, others hilarious....
elvis on pocket pussies: "if they got this, why do they need to mess with little kids? why can't they just use these on themselves and leave those little kids alone? i had to go to court the other day because i just found out my grandbaby was abused by my daughter's boyfriend. i swear i almost passed out in that courtroom. i saw him and i saw that little girl gettin upset and trying to hide and child, i couldn't breathe. i was so mad. why they need to mess with little kids like that? maybe if he had something like this, he would have left her alone."
i explained to her it wasn't that simple...that the point of "messing with kids" had very little to do with just trying to get off and that the child is a necessary component. it's disturbing to me how little is understood about pedophilia...maybe i watch too much SVU.
anyway, she tells me some more of her grandchild's molestation and just when i feel like i should either give her a hug or throw up, she walks away. she doesn't go far at all. about ten steps, actually. she was practically on the verge of tears when all of a sudden, she speaks: OOOH I LOVE ME SOME SEXY SEXY STOCKINGS!
okay?....
she continues her way back around to the front of the store and abruptly changes the subject again. this time, the topic is her weight loss through belly dancing. belly dancing that, like her boyfriend, her kids don't agree with. "they say i'm too old to be doing that kind of stuff. can you believe i'm 51 years old?" (i can. she looks even older than that, but i tell her no anyway) "they say that belly dancing really helps to flatten out your stomach. i don't want to be too skinny though, nobody likes that. i wanna keep some of these curves." **i should have mentioned before that this woman had more of an ass in the front so when she says "curves" i immediately picture her naked. [that's definitely something i wish i could turn off...gross] "i'm going to wait until i lose some weight before i buy anything like this (holds up some lingerie) but i'm glad i know you're here now. ima definitely be back here. you know what i don't understand? [at this point, i hope you've realized that this woman is incapable of staying on one particular subject for more than a few minutes and fails to make any attempt at a segue onto another] i don't see how people can get up to be five, six hundred pounds. and who are these people who keep on feeding them. they stay in bed their whole life. i think the people givin them whatever they want must want to keep them that way. it's just disgusting to me. they can't shower. can't do anything. that ain't no kind of life."
i agree with her last statement. she starts fanning herself. "ooh i've got an infection right now and i can't breathe because i've got asthma, too. woo, child! it hurts." should i have let her use my inhaler? i'll never know. she jumps back onto the topic of morbid obesity as she pays for some random items. "i don't understand how people get so big. the food's still gonna be there when you die. you'll never be able to eat all of it." <--- that's what you'd call wisdom
i tell her i hope everything works out with her family (i figured since our conversation was so fragmented and disorganized that it wouldn't throw her off) and that i'm sorry she's dealing with so much. she smiles at me and leaves. with the door open, she waves to me and puts on a pair of sunglasses. "thank you, child. i'll be back soon! need to get me some of that sexy, sexy."
affairs to remember
before i get into the tawdry details, i want to dedicate this entry to all the cheaters out there...thanks for helping me pay my rent by breaking hearts and wrecking homes.
i've heard it all: women cheating on their husbands, husbands cheating on wives, regulars spending money on other strippers on the down low...people lie all the time and unfortunately, i play a role in these indiscretions. it takes a lot for me to remain hopeful sometimes when it comes to love and trust after being exposed to such things. so rather than become jaded and cynical, i take the opportunity to turn it into a story. to clear my own conscience and remove the sense of responsibility that comes with knowing about these affairs. at least this way, i'm not the one keeping secrets. and if anything good can come of it, maybe someone will find it entertaining.
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one afternoon, a man walked into the store and looked around for a little while. nothing out of the ordinary since the men who come in never ask for help right away, even if they haven't a clue what they're looking for. so after the initial no-i'm-just-looking-5-minute-wander this guy admits "i guess i do need some help." i walk around to him and ask him what it is he's looking for. "i want something that's going to drive her crazy. i mean, i already do a good enough job driving her crazy but that's another story." i help him pick out some things and take them to the register. "so may i ask what you mean by you drive her crazy already?" the guy says, "well, i have to make this good because we can only see each other for another two weeks." i inquire, "what's with the time limit?" he says, "i'm getting married in two weeks and that's when the party's over." while i'm writing up his receipt (modern technology was on vacation that day) i ask him, "does your future wife live far away or something?" he tells me "no. she lives about two miles away." i just said something along the lines of "oh" and told him his total. i was obviously distracted since i tried to give him back the amount due as change. at least this guy-however unfaithful he was to his fiance-was honest when it came to me...a complete stranger. he pointed out my mistake and gave me the money back for the correct change. the lesson learned: money>love.
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the next cheater came in about a week after that and this time it was a female. early morning. and asked for help right away. she was looking for some whips and paddles for her "friend." we got to talking about domination and flogging. she said i made her feel comfortable. i believed her when she started to tell me more. turns out her "friend" was actually a co-worker. a man close to her in age yet married to a woman 16 years his junior. she told me all about how their relationship started out as most others...some flirting here and there, smiling at one another while others around them weren't paying attention, pretty innocent stuff.
"then one day, he came into the room i was working with a patient in and said to me 'when are you going to take me home with you?' girl, i couldn't believe that. a few days later we finally got together after work and that same night we slept together. he started opening up to me about some of the things he wanted me to do...about how he really wanted a woman to tell him what to do and beat him up a little bit but his wife wasn't into those kinds of things and she said there was something wrong with him the first time he brought it up so he stopped asking."
me: what kinds of things is he into?
"he comes over sometimes and just cleans my house. my son came upstairs one day all confused and said 'mama is he down there doin laundry?' (we both laughed) girl, he loves it. he always wants me to boss him around and talk down to him like call him names and all kinds of things like that. now he likes me hitting him. there was one time i really gave him a beating and he said 'oooh that was good. that felt just like how my granny used to whoop me when i was little.' i wonder where that comes from? why he likes that kind of thing."
me: a lot of psychologists say fetishes come from childhood. maybe when you beat him like his granny used to, he feels good because she used to take care of him, too. there could be a few different explanations. you could look it up on the internet or get books if you really want to understand it. it's not like it makes you uncomfortable does it?
"no. i actually really like it. it makes me feel so much better when i can just beat on him and boss him around."
me: so do you ever wonder why that kind of thing makes you feel good?
"not until now! that's a good point. i never thought of it that way. all i know is i'm happy and it makes him happy. he says he looks forward to coming over and always thinks about me when he's home. he even calls me and tells me he misses me. we just said 'i love you' to each other recently. lord, it makes me feel so much better to be able to talk to you about this."
me: well, obviously i don't think any of the things you do are weird at all since i'm exposed to it everyday. it's pretty normal to me. whatever makes you happy.
"oh and i am. i am so happy."
the moral of this story: love hurts.
i've heard it all: women cheating on their husbands, husbands cheating on wives, regulars spending money on other strippers on the down low...people lie all the time and unfortunately, i play a role in these indiscretions. it takes a lot for me to remain hopeful sometimes when it comes to love and trust after being exposed to such things. so rather than become jaded and cynical, i take the opportunity to turn it into a story. to clear my own conscience and remove the sense of responsibility that comes with knowing about these affairs. at least this way, i'm not the one keeping secrets. and if anything good can come of it, maybe someone will find it entertaining.
______________________________
one afternoon, a man walked into the store and looked around for a little while. nothing out of the ordinary since the men who come in never ask for help right away, even if they haven't a clue what they're looking for. so after the initial no-i'm-just-looking-5-minute-wander this guy admits "i guess i do need some help." i walk around to him and ask him what it is he's looking for. "i want something that's going to drive her crazy. i mean, i already do a good enough job driving her crazy but that's another story." i help him pick out some things and take them to the register. "so may i ask what you mean by you drive her crazy already?" the guy says, "well, i have to make this good because we can only see each other for another two weeks." i inquire, "what's with the time limit?" he says, "i'm getting married in two weeks and that's when the party's over." while i'm writing up his receipt (modern technology was on vacation that day) i ask him, "does your future wife live far away or something?" he tells me "no. she lives about two miles away." i just said something along the lines of "oh" and told him his total. i was obviously distracted since i tried to give him back the amount due as change. at least this guy-however unfaithful he was to his fiance-was honest when it came to me...a complete stranger. he pointed out my mistake and gave me the money back for the correct change. the lesson learned: money>love.
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the next cheater came in about a week after that and this time it was a female. early morning. and asked for help right away. she was looking for some whips and paddles for her "friend." we got to talking about domination and flogging. she said i made her feel comfortable. i believed her when she started to tell me more. turns out her "friend" was actually a co-worker. a man close to her in age yet married to a woman 16 years his junior. she told me all about how their relationship started out as most others...some flirting here and there, smiling at one another while others around them weren't paying attention, pretty innocent stuff.
"then one day, he came into the room i was working with a patient in and said to me 'when are you going to take me home with you?' girl, i couldn't believe that. a few days later we finally got together after work and that same night we slept together. he started opening up to me about some of the things he wanted me to do...about how he really wanted a woman to tell him what to do and beat him up a little bit but his wife wasn't into those kinds of things and she said there was something wrong with him the first time he brought it up so he stopped asking."
me: what kinds of things is he into?
"he comes over sometimes and just cleans my house. my son came upstairs one day all confused and said 'mama is he down there doin laundry?' (we both laughed) girl, he loves it. he always wants me to boss him around and talk down to him like call him names and all kinds of things like that. now he likes me hitting him. there was one time i really gave him a beating and he said 'oooh that was good. that felt just like how my granny used to whoop me when i was little.' i wonder where that comes from? why he likes that kind of thing."
me: a lot of psychologists say fetishes come from childhood. maybe when you beat him like his granny used to, he feels good because she used to take care of him, too. there could be a few different explanations. you could look it up on the internet or get books if you really want to understand it. it's not like it makes you uncomfortable does it?
"no. i actually really like it. it makes me feel so much better when i can just beat on him and boss him around."
me: so do you ever wonder why that kind of thing makes you feel good?
"not until now! that's a good point. i never thought of it that way. all i know is i'm happy and it makes him happy. he says he looks forward to coming over and always thinks about me when he's home. he even calls me and tells me he misses me. we just said 'i love you' to each other recently. lord, it makes me feel so much better to be able to talk to you about this."
me: well, obviously i don't think any of the things you do are weird at all since i'm exposed to it everyday. it's pretty normal to me. whatever makes you happy.
"oh and i am. i am so happy."
the moral of this story: love hurts.
ho ho oh no
for me, christmas comes about once every two weeks. santa is one of my most regular customers and each time he comes in, i feel like i get a little closer to him. i'm not sure i like that or not...anyhow, the last time he came in was a couple weeks ago. morning (as usual) and there was nobody else in the store. the first thing he says to me after i ask him how he's been is "i bet this job is pretty entertaining." i smiled. opened up my notebook. and got ready for what i was sure would be another pleasant conversation. he was all over the place. covered a lot of different topics: from porn to power tools. strange man, santa.
1.
i ask him how his day's going and he tells me about how he had been planning to take his mower out on a few jobs but that got put off because some neighbors broke into his shed. apparently this is a common occurence as there have been a total of fifteen chainsaws stolen. all by the same people. all from the same shed. he said they sell them for drug money.
2.
next he asks me if we have any "weird porn" before he grabs this from the shelf:
he asks me if i've ever done anything involving getting all "oiled up" and then tells me a story:
once i went on this cruise and we ended up in a motel in south carolina one night. a friend and i had a bottle of baby oil. it was messy but you know it wasn't all that great. we did have fun soaping each other up afterward though. let's just say the people at the hotel weren't too happy with the way we left the room.
3.
i've grown accustomed to answering personal questions that would probably offend--if not frighten/enrage--most people on a daily basis without giving it a second thought...however, when it comes to this guy, i can't help but squirm a little. especially when i hear him ask "so you ever play with any of these toys?" i answered him: "some of them, sometimes" but that's where the conversation ended...which actually made me more uncomfortable because it caused me to wonder what he was thinking when he stopped talking and just stared into space for a minute... gross.
breaks the silence with a change of subject..."i see that tattoo on your arm. i had a former employee with a tattoo on the back of his neck. you know bacardi 151? he had that logo tattooed on him. yeah, but he's in prison now."
these "stories" were pretty lame i suppose. but you have to remember!...this dude looks like santa claus, sounds like wilford brimley, and smells like hot garbage.
his last anecdote was actually disturbing.
4.
"i knew a police officer who worked up there in beverly hills. he used to pull over african american women and instead of giving them tickets, he'd get sex from them. yeah, but that was a while ago. i don't talk to him anymore." hearing that, i really wondered if it was worth it to keep the conversation going and said, "so those are the kinds of people you're friends with, huh?"
he defensively came back with, "no, no i wouldn't consider him a friend. he was just more of an acquaintance." i guess that makes it alright. right?
1.
i ask him how his day's going and he tells me about how he had been planning to take his mower out on a few jobs but that got put off because some neighbors broke into his shed. apparently this is a common occurence as there have been a total of fifteen chainsaws stolen. all by the same people. all from the same shed. he said they sell them for drug money.
2.
next he asks me if we have any "weird porn" before he grabs this from the shelf: he asks me if i've ever done anything involving getting all "oiled up" and then tells me a story:
once i went on this cruise and we ended up in a motel in south carolina one night. a friend and i had a bottle of baby oil. it was messy but you know it wasn't all that great. we did have fun soaping each other up afterward though. let's just say the people at the hotel weren't too happy with the way we left the room.
3.
i've grown accustomed to answering personal questions that would probably offend--if not frighten/enrage--most people on a daily basis without giving it a second thought...however, when it comes to this guy, i can't help but squirm a little. especially when i hear him ask "so you ever play with any of these toys?" i answered him: "some of them, sometimes" but that's where the conversation ended...which actually made me more uncomfortable because it caused me to wonder what he was thinking when he stopped talking and just stared into space for a minute... gross.
breaks the silence with a change of subject..."i see that tattoo on your arm. i had a former employee with a tattoo on the back of his neck. you know bacardi 151? he had that logo tattooed on him. yeah, but he's in prison now."
these "stories" were pretty lame i suppose. but you have to remember!...this dude looks like santa claus, sounds like wilford brimley, and smells like hot garbage.
his last anecdote was actually disturbing.
4.
"i knew a police officer who worked up there in beverly hills. he used to pull over african american women and instead of giving them tickets, he'd get sex from them. yeah, but that was a while ago. i don't talk to him anymore." hearing that, i really wondered if it was worth it to keep the conversation going and said, "so those are the kinds of people you're friends with, huh?"
he defensively came back with, "no, no i wouldn't consider him a friend. he was just more of an acquaintance." i guess that makes it alright. right?
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