Them: "Hey buddy, where can I get some change?"
Me: "I don't know. Did you vote for Obama?"
Them: "Seriously dude, I need some one's."
Me: "I'm not sure. Where could there possibly be a cash register in a bar?
Did you try the men's room?"
Them: "Really?"
Me: "I would try the bar. They have cash registers. I believe cash registers have
change in them."
"Its certainly worth a shot."
This happens to me nightly. Some drunk guy wanders up and asks me where he can get singles. It never fails to amuse me while I inwardly hope this guy doesn't have kids he passed his inferior genes to. If it seems like even a slight chance he might throw me a couple of bucks, I'll run to the bar and get it for him, but usually I just say "bar" and point at the bar which is inevitable 6 feet away from him.
Some people are just plain stupid and nothing can fix stupid*. If you're born stupid, you're going to remain stupid and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it. I suggest working out and following a strict diet for folks of the stupid persuasion; just because you're as sharp as a tampon doesn't mean you have to look like shit too.
That being said, many underintelligenced people have made huge successes (successi?) of themselves. They didn't let they're lack of brain power hold them back and neither could me.
Hell I have a higher IQ than at least 3/4 of the world's population and I still barely get by. I know plenty of people dumber then me with WAY more dough than I'll probably ever have.
My retirement plan consists of dying young. That should tell you where I'm at financially.
********************
Apparently, if you come from some insanely small Eastern European country and then come to America, it seems like a freedom and cocaine filled Disneyland that you can just pillage and laugh your way through on a trail of mucus-soft white slave trade money.
And you know what, good for you. Spend that Tretzakistan/Latervian hooker money. Yay! Bundles of it! Mercedes for everyone!
Just keep your diminutive, gropey gypsy hands the fuck off the girls, you underbred little fucks.
Apparently you're not from good peasant stock cuz you're all tiny and shitforth. Go find some tiny women and get on with making the human race smaller.
I'm surprised you didn't bring goats for currency.
Its no surprise this guy's your President.
Meanwhile, at the Hall of Justice...
You know what else I really enjoy? I totally dig when someone who I gave years of my life in service to talks shit behind my back. No, really, its great.
I got word that a former employer of mine made the following statement in regards to me:
"Yeah, that guy cost me a lot of good girls." Meaning that dancers had left his employee because they hated me.
Seriously? Name one. I triple dog dare you to name a single girl that quit your club for the sole reason that I worked there. And even if you can legitimately come up with a name, they quit because I was enforcing your rules, not because they hated me. (Although there was a small minority who did, I'll freely admit that.)
The worst part of the whole deal is that I defend this guy all the time. I constantly run into people at this club who know me from the old place and they invariably ask me which place I prefer to work. I tell them flat out that I make more money where I'm at now, but I much preferred the old club because the owner actually cared about his employees. You weren't just a number on a list of names there. He knew you and he looked out for you. He's generous to a fault if you're in his good graces.
I definitely miss that. Where I'm at now I haven't spoken 2 words with the owner and I'm certainly not under any illusions that he gives the slightest tiny shit nugget about me. I am grudgingly tolerated because I mop vomit with the best of them and know not to stick my dick in the stables.
It saddened me a bit and then I got over it. Despite the fact, I'll still tell anyone who inquires the same thing, I'd rather work for a guy who knows my name know and at least a little bit about me, than a guy who refers to me a Part #0647.
I can be fired instantly from my boss's iPhone.
What are ya gonna do?
-The StriperHeder
*Thank you Ron White.
