I am a slob. It's not a fact I'm proud of, but it is indeed, a fact.
I live in squalor, not because I'm too poor to give a shit or live in a third world country, but because I never clean anything. Finally bagging heaps of trash and hauling them out to the dumpster is what passes for 'cleaning' in my reality.
And while I'm horribly embarrassed by the thought of anyone seeing the horrid, reprehensible shambles I dwell in, rather than actually clean it up, I just forbid any living creature entrance to it and go about my business.
I'm somewhat ashamed to say that one of the few reasons I could use a wife in my life is to pick up after me and do obscure bits of tidying, such as vacuuming, dusting and I think it's called 'washing dishes'. Oral sex would be nice too, but is only worth it if I never have to do anything or go anywhere I don't want to, which has proven to be impossible in previous relationships.
I don't do any of that housekeeping stuff but have become remarkably adept at circumventing the need to do them. For instance I only use paper plates and plastic cutlery. I always wear socks so random shit littering my carpet doesn't stick to my bare feet and I burn a lot of incense and use those outlet powered Air Wick thingies to combat the smell of neglect and ambivalence that dominates my abode.
I figure my apartment is clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be happy and if it hasn't killed me yet, it isn't likely to do so any time soon. Therefore I just go with it...
I endeavor to find holistic solutions to the problems caused by me slobbishness. For example I have a rice moth infestation in my apartment from when someone left a large box of free food sitting on my apartment stoop and I brought it in and ate some of it. The only difficulty I had with this free food is that it contained a bag of rice, which I don't really like very much and this bag of rice was inhabited by rice moth larvae.
I didn't discover this fact until I had small, annoying moths zooming all over my apartment. I figured at first that they were just some seasonal aberration and would go away with the onset of winter. I was horribly wrong of course and the fuckers just keep multiplying and fluttering about.
Its fucking maddening.
So one day I got fed up and set out to uncover the source of these cocksucking moths. It didn't take long for me to look in the cupboard where I stashed food I wasn't likely to eat anytime soon so long as a Burger King remained open within a ten mile radius of me, and low and behold, there was the one pound bag of white rice crawling with tiny worm thingies.
This bag was like an entire civilization of pre-moths. It moved. There were tiny malls.
So, like any person who hates maggot-like organisms, I threw it away and figured that soon my moth problem would go away and I could again focus my rage on Russian poker players. Well, that was like 2 years ago and the moths are still here.
I've started naming them because with the way my life is going, they're as close to a meaningful pet as I'm ever likely to get. Nevertheless I would enjoy having a moth-free environment again as they tend to fly into my eyes and mouth frequently and I'm kinda tired of that.
So fortunately for me, my seasonal fruit fly invasion has proven clearly hostile to the moths; they don't get along at all. It is open warfare on a really small scale in my living space and luckily for me it's virtually silent or I would be forced to give a fuck or even take sides.
Their aerial warfare is like watching a squadron of ME-109's descending on a flock of B-25s; brief, one sided and visceral.
At this point the larger, fluffier fliers still appear to have the upper hand, but I don't think they'll hold on to it for very long. Have you ever tried to get rid of a fruit fly infestation? The little bastards are unbelievably resistant to almost any effort to destroy them. You can take their food, you can make your apartment cold as a penguin refuge, you can coat every square foot of your space in undiluted bleach, but still the wee cunts find a way to persevere and float around annoying the piss out of you.
The best outcome I can hope for at this point is the the fruit flies conquer the rice moths and either we reach a detente, or I ally myself with the enormous population of spiders that inhabit every neglected corner of my abysmal cave and convince them to escalate hostilities on the fruities.
I've thought about introducing bats to end my flying insect dilemma, but then I would need to install a larger predator into my realm to consume the bats and things would just spiral out of control from there. At some point I would need grizzly bears or orcas to balance my ecosystem, and quite frankly my apartment is too small to comfortably host those critters.
So for the time being I live in a quiet, self contained battlezone.
I feel like David Attenborough.*1
So if you hang out in bars, or have a similar app on your phone then you're familiar with 'What A Mess', or 'Underwater Mess', both of which are games that feature an image jam packed with random items of which you must find a specified list of items.
Don't know what I'm talking about? Then continue in darkness, you fucking Luddite and pray the world gets less technical. Good luck.
To all of you who know what I'm referring to, here's the StripperHerder version of 'What A Mess'.
In the following picture can you find.....?
1) A catfish
2) A pile of .40 caliber rounds*2
3) An outdated cellphone
4) A gay-ass Ed Hardy lighter that I found on the floor of the club
5) A holster for a 9mm handgun*3
6) The cure for ebola*4
7) A Taco Bell sauce packet
8) A waterproof pill container
9) A bible*5
10) A phone bill
11) A platinum ring*6
12) The recipe for a weaponized form of bleu cheese.*7
13) A pouch containing a toe bone of St. Herve the Bard and a petrified piece of the wolf feces it was found in.*8 Absolutely priceless to Catholics.
Stupid Stripper Tricks, Vol III
Strippers can be shady as hell. I know that this is shocking to you, average reader and I apologize if it tarnishes the image of the happy-go-lucky, heart of gold stripper you often see portrayed in movies. I'm sure that for some of you finding out that strippers can be drug crazed, criminal scum-whores is like finding out that the Easter Bunny is a pedophile or that the Tooth Fairy carries a hammer and a strainer....
But alas, it's true. They can be diabolical.
So let's run down some of the more typical stunts in their bag of twicks. It should be fun.
Just Passing Through: Migrant strippers are a nuisance species which plague the industry not unlike locusts plagued ancient farmers. The roam from city to city like a vampire bat flits from cow to cow, stealing nourishment from the local villagers.
Migrants are a pain in the ass for every single layer of the strip club shit-cake. They are generally pretty good looking which is how their evil works. They can descend upon a town and work at a different club every night, burning their bridges behind them without a care in the world. A frequent scam of theirs is to audition at a club and work there that night only, but to tell the management that they'll be there all weekend. Thus when they sneak out at the end of the night, having tipped no one because they'll never see them again, and having skipped out on the house fees they owed, there's no repercussions for them at all.
JPT's also take a bite out of the regular staff's
They play the system and they win.
If managers were smarter they's make these girls pay a 'deposit' house fee, refundable at the end of the night provided she pays out accordingly. But I've never seen that happen and probably never will.
This are a dumb industry.
The Bait and Switch: Two girls come through the door wanting to audition. One is really hot and the other is.........not. The girls make it clear that they are a duo, the usual excuse being because one girl is the other's ride, or some such nonsense. Even if this is the truth, it will always turn out that the ugly one has the car and legal right to drive.
Well, you want the hot girl on your staff so despite your deep, tormented misgivings you hire her, and by extrapolation, her overweight hobbit sidekick. The manager who's been around the block a few times recognizes at this point that he's probably going to be saddled soon with a dumpy halfling in a thong which creates a cloud of discomfort wherever it's unnaturally large and hairy feet take it.
Sans hot friend of course. She's moved on to helping one of her other equally repugnant friends land a job.
Baiters work on the same principle as Migrants except that they may be willing to stick around for a few more days to make sure their much less attractive friends become firmly entrenched in the new club's flesh. Like some kind of arboreal parasite. Then they flee and leave the dumpster behind.
How a Strip Club Makes things more valuable
I used to work with this bartender. She was hot as fuck and mediocre at bartending, but to most clubs hotness is valued more than competency so she was able to keep her job despite the fact that Stephen Hawking would've been more effective behind the bar.
Her go-to move when she was drunk and thought a customer was attractive was to reach across the bar and rip his shirt open. I don't know why she did it, apparently she figured this would make her seem highly desirable to said club patron and would get her laid or something.
A lot of guys let this go because she was a hot chick and she had just ripped their shirt open and I'm sure that many of them ended their night with their penis redolent with her vaginal fragrance.
It was a win-win.
But a few guys took exception to a bartender destroying their clothing and complained loudly to the managers. "This is a $200 shirt and she just ruined it! I want the club to reimburse me!"
In other instance I've had guys come up to me complaining that they'd lost $4000 earrings, or a $10,000 watch, or a $6000 bracelet. I act concerned and then go out for a smoke because I don't care in the first place and more importantly, don't believe them in the second.
Yeah, your $35 K&G shirt is suddenly worth $200. And your faux diamond earrings jumped to $4000 value the second you walked through the door. Everything becomes more expensive the moment you walk through the doors of a strip club and the conniving strippers have stolen it from you.
It amuses me to no end.
A) I don't give a fuck if it cost you $10 or $10,000. Go eat a dog cock. If you actually cared about it in the first place you would've never lost it or let a deranged titty beast destroy it.
B) If you're dumb and materialistic enough to pay WAY too much for something that has no intrinsic value in a real world situation then you deserve to lose it. Stop being an elitist twatburger.
C) In all my years of hearing customer complaints of this nature, strippers were involved in about .30% of the cases. All the others were just a drunk customer losing stuff because he was drunk. In the cases where his shirt WAS ripped open/off by a stripper/bartender, it wasn't worth anywhere near $200. It was a Steve Harvey at best.
*1 Except bigger, fatter, drunker, angrier and 100% less British.
*2 You're wrong. The pile in the photograph are .45 ACP rounds. You suck.
*3 Wrong again! That's a Taurus Judge holster. You still suck.
*4 Just to the left of the westernmost crackers.
*5 The bible is a bunch of worthless paper, don't you see it?
*6 It's poking out from underneath the crappy gum.
*7 Just in case the French get uppity again.
*8 St. Herve the Bard was a blind storyteller and historian reputed to have traveled with a domesticated wolf, and indeed he did. But one particularly harsh winter the wolf decided it wasn't quite domesticated enough to not eat Herve and decided it was just wild enough to survive that winter.**
**This is all true, look it up.***
***Well except for the part about the wolf eating him, I'm made that up. That doesn't mean that it may not be true however, the records are pretty vague...
