Argh, I'm fucking tired. Working like a dog doesn't leave much time to tend to my beloved flock of Herderites and I apologize. Maybe when I'm rich and a man of leisure I'll be able to crank out my patented brand of wrathful schlock with more regularity. One can always hope.
As most of my regular readers know, I'm an angry man. Not angry in an always-hitting-other-humans-and-perpetually-in-and-out-of-jail sort of way. I have mastered my rage-bear and those who haven't aren't only angry, they're fucking stupid as well. You can be a pissed off person and still be a productive member of society, you just have to find something to channel your bitter, seething maleficence into.
Some people box, some have talk shows, I have this blog. It may not be much but goddamn it, it's mine.
So now that I've established the theme of this installment, let's get right down to it.
Shit that pisses me off
Makeshift roadside memorials: Until about 15 years ago I never saw one of these sad, forlorn little crosses marking the spot where some unfortunate person died in a car wreck. I realize that dealing with grief and the loss of a loved one sucks, my Dad was killed in a motorcycle accident many years ago. Yet I've never been to the spot where it happened, nor felt any desire to go there. When I want to mourn or remember my Pop, I go to where his body is buried, right alongside my Grandpa and Grandma.
Why people feel the desire to put some sort of memorial up where the accident occurred I will never understand. Why should everyone else traveling that stretch of road who happens to glance in that direction be forced to share your grief? Do your mourning at the grave, quit ruining my drive time. That's why we made cemeteries in the first place.
Birthdays: So one day a while back, your Mom's fetid vagina squeezed you out into this world all slathered in blood-mucus and agony. Congratulations, you were birthed. It's one hell of an accomplishment.
Nobody fucking cares that you joined the population of the earth X amount of years ago. Why is the anniversary of the day your tortured your Mother's brat chute and emerged into the world 100% incapable of caring for yourself in any way important or relevant to anyone outside your circle of friends and family?
It's not.
It's not medieval times any more. Child mortality rate is not 50% and hasn't been for a long time, at least not in this country. It's not like every other child is still carried off by insert plague's name here. Who fucking cares that you've survived another year, it's not an exceptionally hard to achieve milestone anymore.
We have medicine and science and shitforth.
I've seen so many people come to the club and the first thing out of their mouths is that it's their birthday as if I give the tiniest nugget of shit about that. Fuck you. Fuck your Mom. Fuck your birthday. Suck goat balls and die. I hope you contract typhus for your birthday.
Back when I was in grade school and it was my birthday, I had to bring in treats for the class, that's just the way it was done. If it was your calfing-day, you brought the fucking treats.
So where's my Snickers, birthtwat?
My family was so broke growing up that when it was my birthday I brought in a snack pack of raisins. When my teacher said in a condescending manner "Oh you brought raisins in for the Class?" I replied, " No Ma'am, I brought in a single raisin for every worthless fuck in the classroom, and two for you."
Thus was my school record pretty much set on it's course, potential be damned.
Don't even get me started on the whole 'safety-pinning money to your clothes' thing, how goddamn ghetto can you get?
People who partake of your goodwill, inconvenience you and promise to tip you in recompense for putting up with their drunken cuntshittery: First off I've only got about a 25% hit rate from those who promised they'd "Make sure they took care of me." I seriously doubt most other people who rely on tips for a living have a much higher percentage. Basically stating in any form "That I will tip you later", means that A) You have no intention of giving me any money to make your experience better, and B) you're too fucking stupid/selfish/assholey to realize that the best way to make any club experience better is to tip, and tip up front.
Money up front guaranties that you've got the service people's attention, and solid credibility right off the bat. By dangling the promise of income in front of their faces, you have set off alarm bells that warn you may be a broke, stingy piece of shit fucklog.
We can smell your kind. All fuckloggy and shit...
We Floor Grubs refer to this as being Goundhog Dayed. The following video provides an analogy of the process.
(Please note that the validity of this analogy ends at roughly 28 seconds, after that it's pure fantasy.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7NjNOAncIlI
Rihanna: Rihanna pisses me off because she's a mediocre singer, a ghetto promoting slice of ho, and the fact that I have to listen to her every 3 songs on any given night I work at The Slut Shack for 10-12 hour at a time.
She must be stopped. Someone do something. Please God help us. Kyrie Eleison.
#endherevil #Rihannathroatpunch*1
Tiny car douchebags: It takes more than a Powerchip and a custom exhaust to make your faggoty Civic a fucking race car, you sideburn-having-rap-loving-child-rapist. There's a special place reserved in Hell for people like you who wouldn't know class if it dropped out a tree and skull fucked them.
Enough about my petty hates. Let's talk about Strippers.
I may have mentioned before about how I hate amateur nights. No, really I do. Maybe you missed it.
Well last Friday night, this tried to audition:
And this:
And unfortunately this as well:
Seriously, this one girl was maybe 5'2" and couldn't have weighed an ounce more than 70 lbs. To say she was slender would be to miss the opportunity to say "She's like an over tattooed Gollum with nipples and a leopard print loincloth", and I refuse to do that on principle.
Fuck it all, I believe I'm done. I urge everyone in America to vote third party. I also urge everyone in America to send me some money. I won't be able to continue this blog when I'm homeless.
Viva La Perfecto Tit-tahs,
-The StripperHerder
*1 I'm really starting to like these fake hashtag** things.
**I'm proud to say that I don't really even know what a hashtag is
