So, here's round two of The Porn Clerk Chronicles. I've been scavaging the site for a group of people that do this for a living, and I haven't ... found a group yet. o_O I found a sex workers group and they were like, "NO. PORN CLERKS DON'T COUNT" in their synopsis of the group. (meh) I think, I might be starting my own. Huh.
Anyway, enjoy the next rant. It too, is old, but it made for a good story that I thought I'd share.
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The Chronicles of A Porn Clerk: Some date I can't remember, 2006
Nothing is more hysterical than watching the people you see (almost on a day-to-day) basis respond to you in a child-like fashion because you are a whee bit tipsy.
I did spring cleaning yesterday. I started at noon and raped my house until I could officially call my Batcave an office again and the adjacent bedroom an actual bedroom. The result was seven hours of organizing, dusting, filing, trashing, moving furniture and one bag of junk to trash. Because cleaning is a rare event for myself, let alone to do it to the point where my sanity could be questioned (or a possible use of meth), I felt it necessary to enjoy a drink or two.
But I still had to dump the bag of trash.
I have this problem. If I start a long term project, being a creature of results, I want the feel of completion as soon as possible--whatever the cost. So, somehow, stumbling to work drunk, my boyfriend the designated driver, to dump this trash seemed like a good idea at the time.
And for some reason, God only knows why, when you're drunk you really, really, really have to pee. My original intent of completely avoiding the crew inside the store, dumping the trash, and fleeing for dear life for the sanctity of the batcave fell through. I had to piss like a fucking racehorse and it was NOT going to wait. The chain of events went as follows.
1. I run into my guard. I introduce him with the wrong name. (Asshole move #1).
2. He gives me his keys and I stumble to the door to open the back. I don't notice the weird looks from fellow co-workers (Asshole move #2), but I am informed of them later.
3. Someone's in the potty. It's an another employee. The poor thing is sick and I bust out with, - "OMG. YOU LOOK LIKE SHIT." (Asshole move #3)
4. "DO YOU NEED ANYTHING ARE YOU OK?!" (Remove Asshole Move #3 with Good Intent #1. Even in my stupor I want to help. Total tally: 2)
5. They're ok. We have a brief conversation, that I imagine is normal, until the question that is always a buzz killer due to its sheer reality arrives.
"You're not driving are you?"
Fuck. I am drunk.
6. I stumble back to the guard and give him his keys. Somewhere, I hear my name, and it's another employee, smiling ear-to-ear (an expression I am far too wary of, these days) and Dr. Obvious blurts, "YOU'RE WALKING FUNNY!" Note: at least I have an excuse: intoxication. (Asshole Move #3. Total: 3)
7. Boyfriend collects me at the front door, and we're off. I find out in the car that my employees are mildly weirded out by my behavior (Asshole Move #4. Total: 4).
In my defense, these are rare moments. I don't get them very often, and I'll be damned if I don't take advantage of them when do. But apparently, it's an event in itself that I'm NICE and SMILING (...and walking funny and smelling like alcohol and flushed. -cough-).
People of the world, take pictures; it's the only time you're going to see the battle shield drop and the defenses collapse: to see the soft embodiment of misplaced trust and bitterness.
And what.
----------------------------
Oh, and for your view pleasure. Another Kofi/Akina conversation.
Kofi : I was gonna say, the secret to a fat ass is collared greens. ::nodnod::
Akina: I STILL REALLY REALLY LOOOVE YOOOU ::wails Sade::
Akina: LOL
Akina: collared greens, huh.
Kofi: Yeah. Hidden southern girl secret.
Kofi: That's why they're so stout down south.
Akina: Are you being serious
Akina: or a smartass.
Akina: because I WILL EAT THIS SHIT
Kofi: Nah, I'm dead-ass serious. XD
Kofi: Southern girls are thick cos southern diets (black eyed peas, collared greens, etc.) seem to cater to the hips and ass.
Akina: mmm.
Kofi: Look at Beyonce. She had a FLAT ass before she went down South for like two years.
Kofi: Next thing you know, she's OH OH OH OH OH OH OH OH
Akina: LOLOLOLOL
Anyway, enjoy the next rant. It too, is old, but it made for a good story that I thought I'd share.
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The Chronicles of A Porn Clerk: Some date I can't remember, 2006
Nothing is more hysterical than watching the people you see (almost on a day-to-day) basis respond to you in a child-like fashion because you are a whee bit tipsy.
I did spring cleaning yesterday. I started at noon and raped my house until I could officially call my Batcave an office again and the adjacent bedroom an actual bedroom. The result was seven hours of organizing, dusting, filing, trashing, moving furniture and one bag of junk to trash. Because cleaning is a rare event for myself, let alone to do it to the point where my sanity could be questioned (or a possible use of meth), I felt it necessary to enjoy a drink or two.
But I still had to dump the bag of trash.
I have this problem. If I start a long term project, being a creature of results, I want the feel of completion as soon as possible--whatever the cost. So, somehow, stumbling to work drunk, my boyfriend the designated driver, to dump this trash seemed like a good idea at the time.
And for some reason, God only knows why, when you're drunk you really, really, really have to pee. My original intent of completely avoiding the crew inside the store, dumping the trash, and fleeing for dear life for the sanctity of the batcave fell through. I had to piss like a fucking racehorse and it was NOT going to wait. The chain of events went as follows.
1. I run into my guard. I introduce him with the wrong name. (Asshole move #1).
2. He gives me his keys and I stumble to the door to open the back. I don't notice the weird looks from fellow co-workers (Asshole move #2), but I am informed of them later.
3. Someone's in the potty. It's an another employee. The poor thing is sick and I bust out with, - "OMG. YOU LOOK LIKE SHIT." (Asshole move #3)
4. "DO YOU NEED ANYTHING ARE YOU OK?!" (Remove Asshole Move #3 with Good Intent #1. Even in my stupor I want to help. Total tally: 2)
5. They're ok. We have a brief conversation, that I imagine is normal, until the question that is always a buzz killer due to its sheer reality arrives.
"You're not driving are you?"
Fuck. I am drunk.
6. I stumble back to the guard and give him his keys. Somewhere, I hear my name, and it's another employee, smiling ear-to-ear (an expression I am far too wary of, these days) and Dr. Obvious blurts, "YOU'RE WALKING FUNNY!" Note: at least I have an excuse: intoxication. (Asshole Move #3. Total: 3)
7. Boyfriend collects me at the front door, and we're off. I find out in the car that my employees are mildly weirded out by my behavior (Asshole Move #4. Total: 4).
In my defense, these are rare moments. I don't get them very often, and I'll be damned if I don't take advantage of them when do. But apparently, it's an event in itself that I'm NICE and SMILING (...and walking funny and smelling like alcohol and flushed. -cough-).
People of the world, take pictures; it's the only time you're going to see the battle shield drop and the defenses collapse: to see the soft embodiment of misplaced trust and bitterness.
And what.
----------------------------
Oh, and for your view pleasure. Another Kofi/Akina conversation.
Kofi : I was gonna say, the secret to a fat ass is collared greens. ::nodnod::
Akina: I STILL REALLY REALLY LOOOVE YOOOU ::wails Sade::
Akina: LOL
Akina: collared greens, huh.
Kofi: Yeah. Hidden southern girl secret.
Kofi: That's why they're so stout down south.
Akina: Are you being serious
Akina: or a smartass.
Akina: because I WILL EAT THIS SHIT
Kofi: Nah, I'm dead-ass serious. XD
Kofi: Southern girls are thick cos southern diets (black eyed peas, collared greens, etc.) seem to cater to the hips and ass.
Akina: mmm.
Kofi: Look at Beyonce. She had a FLAT ass before she went down South for like two years.
Kofi: Next thing you know, she's OH OH OH OH OH OH OH OH
Akina: LOLOLOLOL
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
I don't know about you having that voo doo doll......I thought I felt someone tickling my feet last night. It may have been the cat....but I wonder.....
I may have to make one of my own! My agents have already collected some hair and fingernail samples from your trash....and you thought they were stealing your identity. HA!
Once the doll is complete...you may feel a strange tingling sensation. That's right..I'm bathing it in dandruff shampoo! No more full bodied bouncy hair for you!