**Edit** 5/11/22
I had a Vodzilla sighting today at a local grocery/liquor store. I'm not sure if she saw me although I suspect she did and chose not to attack for unfathomable reasons. We never made eye contact, I made sure of that and it perhaps saved me.
So in honor of this unexpected and non confrontational sighting, I thought I would republish what may be the definitive Vodzilla post in Herder herstory.
I think that I've mentioned before that I am a HFA*1, and as thus am eminently qualified to spot other HFA's sharing my ecosystem. The signs are easy to spot in a clandestine drunk, much less a fucking stripper who could drink me under the table 3 times over in a single night.
I'm a classic stay-at-home-and-write-angry-manifestos-while-hammered kind of drunk. As a matter of fact you're reading to what amounts to those angry manifestos right now, I hope you enjoy them.
And, more importantly, learn some obscure yet valuable lesson about life from them.*2
So I am constantly amazed that this one dancer is a fellow HFA and not a decomposing statistic buried in a potter's field.
What I don't comprehend is how this particular stripper is even still alive. This bitch is like a genie that has been trapped in a booze bottle, a booze bottle that you've just rubbed. And by 'rubbed' I mean you ordered bottle service and bamf, she appears, like a poorly coned Nightcrawler. She will gladly grant you three wishes, provided those three wishes are for your bottle to become empty, her to start lurching around slurring deprecations and crying, and for you to be utterly dissatisfied with your strip club experience.
If that's the case she is 100% reliable.
"You swarthy people should order another bottle."
We actually had a group of high income professional douchebags come in recently and order a bottle of overrated vodka. It hadn't been on their table for 2 minutes when Vodzilla shows like a blowfly on a rodent carcass. These guys weren't broke, they were just cheap. And they all watched in amazement as VT ravaged their bottle like a pack of hyenas on a stray child.
It got so bad that at one point when two thirds of the bottle was gone the silk tied cheapskates actually tried to hide the bottle from VT by putting it on the floor by their feet and telling her it was gone. It was an admirable move.
It didn't work.
"Thash buttles nah emshy......."
Here's what they should've done, and let this be a guide for the non strip club pros among you.
They should've tipped a Floor Guy $20 and asked him to get her the fuck away from their table and more urgently, their wounded bottle. This would've given them a much better chance at getting a buzz from their bottle AND removed a loathsome snizzhag from their company. That's called killing two birds with one stone, very efficient and infinitely wise.
The lessons to be learned here are:
1) No amount of alcohol can kill Vodzilla, she is absolutely impervious to death by booze.*4 Her liver is constructed of Kevlar and powered by the souls of dead children.
2) Floor Cunts are there for you, if you put money in their hands they can achieve fucking miracles and aren't likely to forget you. Like the Mafia, it's good to have us on your side.
3) The human liver is an amazingly resilient organ in some people.
4) Soccer is the most amazingly boring sport ever created and if you like it you're probably from a third world country and really didn't have much of a choice.*5
*****************************
I picked up a shift at the concert club tonight, I hadn't worked there since the hippie-pocalypse show from back in February. It was a metal show and for that I'm thankful. Metal shows, despite the aggressive music are usually the most easy going of the music genres to work. A lot of this depends on what kind of metal it is of course, but I'd rather work a metal show than almost any other kind of music.
The worst part about them is catching crowd surfers, you'd think it would be the Pit, the place where over enthusiastic Red Bull swilling fans crash into each other as they mosh, but it isn't. The Pit generally regulates itself as metal fans tend to be very fraternal and willing to help others up before they get stomped into a hummus-like paste on a beer-drenched floor.
But even at a metal show there are cunts. Cunts get everywhere, like psoriasis. They can't be regulated or treated in an effective fashion.
For example tonight I had this guy who kept lighting up cigarettes in the concert hall. I was SO nice. I was really, really nice compared to some of my more recent indiscretions. I warned him. The first time I said "Hey asshat! Put the fucking cigarette out now!"
The second time I pulled his head close to mine and said "I will buttfuck everything you love if you light another smoke."
And I was in so good of a mood that the third time he did it I merely grabbed the smoke from his hand and put it out between his eyes.*7
And that's it for tonight, that's all you get. I have to marshal my genius for future expenditure. It's not easy being amusing on a consistent basis, especially when you drink a lot.
Metal forever my bacon daisies,
-The StripperHerder
*1 High Functioning Alcoholic. It means I can hold down a job, sorta pay my bills sometimes, and frequently fall asleep watching 80's hair porn.
*2 Such as any number of things NOT to do, or when a knifehand throat strike is appropriate. In fact, think of this blog like an After School Special for people who couldn't be bothered to do anything meaningful or productive with their lives.
*3 If she were 15th century Eastern European royalty her name would've been Vlodka The Impaler, or Countess Boozery.
*4 Although a traffic fatality is definitely on the menu.
*5 This has nothing to do with the subject matter but I felt it had to be said regardless.
*6 Mostly.
*7 I didn't really do that although my dick was hard thinking about it.**
** I know it's not healthy, but neither is drinking and I do that successfully.
I had a Vodzilla sighting today at a local grocery/liquor store. I'm not sure if she saw me although I suspect she did and chose not to attack for unfathomable reasons. We never made eye contact, I made sure of that and it perhaps saved me.
So in honor of this unexpected and non confrontational sighting, I thought I would republish what may be the definitive Vodzilla post in Herder herstory.
I think that I've mentioned before that I am a HFA*1, and as thus am eminently qualified to spot other HFA's sharing my ecosystem. The signs are easy to spot in a clandestine drunk, much less a fucking stripper who could drink me under the table 3 times over in a single night.
I'm a classic stay-at-home-and-write-angry-manifestos-while-hammered kind of drunk. As a matter of fact you're reading to what amounts to those angry manifestos right now, I hope you enjoy them.
And, more importantly, learn some obscure yet valuable lesson about life from them.*2
So I am constantly amazed that this one dancer is a fellow HFA and not a decomposing statistic buried in a potter's field.
What I don't comprehend is how this particular stripper is even still alive. This bitch is like a genie that has been trapped in a booze bottle, a booze bottle that you've just rubbed. And by 'rubbed' I mean you ordered bottle service and bamf, she appears, like a poorly coned Nightcrawler. She will gladly grant you three wishes, provided those three wishes are for your bottle to become empty, her to start lurching around slurring deprecations and crying, and for you to be utterly dissatisfied with your strip club experience.
If that's the case she is 100% reliable.
We actually had a group of high income professional douchebags come in recently and order a bottle of overrated vodka. It hadn't been on their table for 2 minutes when Vodzilla shows like a blowfly on a rodent carcass. These guys weren't broke, they were just cheap. And they all watched in amazement as VT ravaged their bottle like a pack of hyenas on a stray child.
It got so bad that at one point when two thirds of the bottle was gone the silk tied cheapskates actually tried to hide the bottle from VT by putting it on the floor by their feet and telling her it was gone. It was an admirable move.
It didn't work.
Here's what they should've done, and let this be a guide for the non strip club pros among you.
They should've tipped a Floor Guy $20 and asked him to get her the fuck away from their table and more urgently, their wounded bottle. This would've given them a much better chance at getting a buzz from their bottle AND removed a loathsome snizzhag from their company. That's called killing two birds with one stone, very efficient and infinitely wise.
The lessons to be learned here are:
1) No amount of alcohol can kill Vodzilla, she is absolutely impervious to death by booze.*4 Her liver is constructed of Kevlar and powered by the souls of dead children.
2) Floor Cunts are there for you, if you put money in their hands they can achieve fucking miracles and aren't likely to forget you. Like the Mafia, it's good to have us on your side.
3) The human liver is an amazingly resilient organ in some people.
4) Soccer is the most amazingly boring sport ever created and if you like it you're probably from a third world country and really didn't have much of a choice.*5
*****************************
I picked up a shift at the concert club tonight, I hadn't worked there since the hippie-pocalypse show from back in February. It was a metal show and for that I'm thankful. Metal shows, despite the aggressive music are usually the most easy going of the music genres to work. A lot of this depends on what kind of metal it is of course, but I'd rather work a metal show than almost any other kind of music.
The worst part about them is catching crowd surfers, you'd think it would be the Pit, the place where over enthusiastic Red Bull swilling fans crash into each other as they mosh, but it isn't. The Pit generally regulates itself as metal fans tend to be very fraternal and willing to help others up before they get stomped into a hummus-like paste on a beer-drenched floor.
But even at a metal show there are cunts. Cunts get everywhere, like psoriasis. They can't be regulated or treated in an effective fashion.
For example tonight I had this guy who kept lighting up cigarettes in the concert hall. I was SO nice. I was really, really nice compared to some of my more recent indiscretions. I warned him. The first time I said "Hey asshat! Put the fucking cigarette out now!"
The second time I pulled his head close to mine and said "I will buttfuck everything you love if you light another smoke."
And I was in so good of a mood that the third time he did it I merely grabbed the smoke from his hand and put it out between his eyes.*7
And that's it for tonight, that's all you get. I have to marshal my genius for future expenditure. It's not easy being amusing on a consistent basis, especially when you drink a lot.
Metal forever my bacon daisies,
-The StripperHerder
*1 High Functioning Alcoholic. It means I can hold down a job, sorta pay my bills sometimes, and frequently fall asleep watching 80's hair porn.
*2 Such as any number of things NOT to do, or when a knifehand throat strike is appropriate. In fact, think of this blog like an After School Special for people who couldn't be bothered to do anything meaningful or productive with their lives.
*3 If she were 15th century Eastern European royalty her name would've been Vlodka The Impaler, or Countess Boozery.
*4 Although a traffic fatality is definitely on the menu.
*5 This has nothing to do with the subject matter but I felt it had to be said regardless.
*6 Mostly.
*7 I didn't really do that although my dick was hard thinking about it.**
** I know it's not healthy, but neither is drinking and I do that successfully.
