Before You Eat Lunch.

29 06 2012

Okay. I was being a bit dramatic when I said it was the “most disturbing” story I’ve heard. I have heard of similar situations happening, but I’ve only read about them. I’ve never had anyone tell me this kind of thing face to face.

This couple came in and I couldn’t tell if they were drunk or on crack or just nervous to be in the store. The girl kept giggling and the guy kept asking questions that were quite revealing about the nature of their relationship.

Sometimes I am like the politician of sex toy stores. I nod in agreement. I smile and say, “oh, yes everyone has their own valid experiences.” Because no one should be made to feel uncomfortable because of their sexual (consensual) choices. (Even though sometimes I am like wtf.)

Anyway, they ended up buying a bunch of stuff, but not before the gentleman left me with this fun tale.

His story:

While his wife was at work he decided to put her silver bullet vibrator up his butt.

For some reason, she came home earlier than he had expected so in haste he tried to pull it out really fast.

As he pulled on the cord and the cord ripped off and the bullet stayed up his butt.

Problem. 

Whatever. It’s easy to solve right?

No.

No.

No.

The guy did nothing.

NOTHING!!!

He left it up there for THREE DAYS!

Why?

Why did he do this?

Do you understand how difficult it was for me not the slap this guy? 

The best part: He informed me that he would “poop around it.”

He would “poop around” a decently sized metal rod stuck up his ass. If it’s stuck up that high and won’t come out when you take a shit the only solution is to what?

*cough* go to the hospital? 

No.

No.

No.

Order Chinese food. Duh.

So, they ordered Chinese food and he used the metal chopstick to finally dig it out.

The end.

At least they bought a bunch of lube–a preventative measure so that never happens again–let’s all hope.





5 Randoms: Don’t Go Breakin My Heart.

28 06 2012

1.) I don’t really understand why vodka tonics have to cost so much more than beer. I mean they buy their vodka in bulk and their tonic in bulk so it probably costs them 20 cents for a glass. It’s summer. It’s the best summer drink. And they’re hurting my wallet. I guess I need a second job just so I can 1) buy more vodka tonics 2) stay in air conditioning longer. I’ve been feeling very Tyler Durden lately any way, insomniac, think I’m sleeping but I’m really organizing an underground revolution.

2.) They are playing vegan cooking shows on PBS. This makes me excited! It makes me want to cook for my friends! But I’d have to turn on the stove so that’s probably not going to happen (and I’d have to have friends).

3.) This guy and I were debating who the hottest Disney prince is, I said Eric from The Little Mermaid as he’s the only one they gave very well developed features to, besides Aladdin–who’s way too skinny and wears a stupid hat. Then we stubbled upon this website that turned those fuddy duddy princes into hot babes.  Now they all win in my heart. Though Eric still might be the hottest. IDK. Thoughts?

4.) I know I need to write an entire blog about my life after reading The Game. Because as Gloria Anzaldua says, “once you know you can never un-know” or something like that, that is not a direct quote, I don’t know why I direct quoted it. But. It has definitely changed my perception and interaction with people while out at the bars. I’m not quite sure if this is a good or bad thing yet, only time will tell. Though, I have been meeting some ridiculously cute guys. We’ll see if anything comes from that.

5) It’s going to be a fireworks-less fourth of July. We’re all going to have to find other ways to make the holiday sparkle and explode. I wish we had more american flag pasties at the store. I told them months ago we were going to sell out and should restock for July. But why listen to me. I just know what sluts want, and who are they but some of the best capitalist consumers on the planet. Yay America!





Beat the Heat, Not My Face.

26 06 2012

Was it the heat? A strange star alignment? Too much smoke in the air?

A combiniation?

Either way, yesterday was one of the most bizarre days of my life.

5 Fucked Up Things That Happened:

1. I got a strap-less strap-on thrown at me. This woman tried to return it because it “hurt” when she used it and supposedly whoever was working upstairs at the time told her she could get her money back if she didn’t like it. I informed her that we’ve never had that policy and we could only exchange a toy if there was a defect, considering that there was nothing wrong with it except that it was poorly designed there was nothing I could do. She got pissed, threw it at me and stormed out the door. Hey, lady, why don’t you go home and fuck yourself. . . wait, wait, you forgot your dildo!

2. I haven’t been sleeping due to a lack of air conditioning. Instead I’ve been drinking at bars until they close then passing out in my bed, only to wake up drenched in sweat a few hours later. So, after a wonderfully miserable day at work I get home and my roommate Emily and I decide that we should be drinking slushes. We walk to 7-11 and it’s so hot ALL the slush machines were broken except coconut, who the fuck likes coconut slushes? Gross. We walked to at least three connivence stores just to find one.

3. I decided that since I was already walking on Colfax that I should stop and buy the new Fiona Apple album. My brain wasn’t functioning properly so we wandered all over Twist & Shout looking for it (it was under Apple, by the way). Out of nowhere this black guy who was sitting down on a stool listening to rap turns around and across the store yells at us, “why do you have to be such an asshole?”

Emily and I look at each other, like, “who, us?”

He continues, “Why do you women have to be such assholes?”

Now he’s standing up staring at us.

I reply (in my usual snarky way) It just comes natural to us I guess.”

Then he rages.

“WHY DO WOMEN HAVE TO BE SUCH ASSHOLES? AND CAUCASIAN WOMEN ARE THE WORST. CAUCASIAN WOMEN ARE THE MORE EVIL CRUEL ASSHOLES TO EVER EXIST ON THE PLANET. ESPECIALLY YOU!” He says as he points at the woman working behind the counter, “YOU ARE ALWAYS ON MY BACK. . . . “

He goes on and on yelling about what assholes we are and every guy in the store just pretends to not hear him and continues to “listen” to their headphones while ALL the women in the store are getting verbally abused.

Finally, a group of people get him out of the store.

And Emily and I decide just to wait awhile in case he’s outside ranting. Then this 40-something white guy walks by us and says, “Oh, another angry black man, surprise surprise.”

We look at each other again and Emily replies, “That doesn’t help the situation.”

Umm. WTF People?

What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. Everyone?

There is so much racism, sexism, classism stuff happening in this scene I don’t even know where to begin.

4. We decided we had experienced enough crazy for the night. And since everything was off we’d just sit on our porch in our safety zone and not leave. For some reason, (I’ll continue to blame the heat and the alignment of the stars) there were crackheads EVERYWHERE. At least every 30 minutes a weirdo would walk by and one of us would say to the other, “don’t make eye contact–another crazy.” We did a lot of avoiding.

5. Finally. We made a new friend. I named him Mystery. Emily named him Buddy. But his real name is Django. He’s a black cat who lives across the street with our neighbor Anthony. Anthony is an older gentleman who found excuse after excuse to come over and talk.

Here are the different ways.

1) He was looking for his cat.

2) He wondered how his cat was doing.

3) He decided he needed to go to the store, did we need anything?

4) He got back from the store with treats for his cat.

5) He wondered if his cat was still doing okay.

6) If he ever left out of town, would we be interested in hanging out with his cat?

7) He wanted to order a pizza but he didn’t know who delivered this last, did we? Would we like any?

Django just shook his head at Anthony.

And Emily magically became vegan for a night.

He never actually stepped over our safety boundary but still, we didn’t seem to escape the crazy even when we tried. And now we have a neighbor that will probably try to creep. Great.

I haven’t done much today. I’m kind of afraid it’s still happening out there.





Sleep to Dream v. Living the Dream.

23 06 2012

Well. I don’t sleep anymore. I blame it on the heat. And being SUPER excited about LIFE!!! Or, just the heat. Sitting on my porch at 2 in the morning on a Friday night is rather entertaining. I realized that people can’t walk properly at the time, it’s more of a hunchback-glide-stomp holding onto each other along the way home—or wherever they’re going.

Disappointed in myself. A group of people invited me to go swimming with them. And I declined. Mainly because they were all incredibly wasted and I wasn’t and I had a sneaking suspicion, since they were arguing about which way York was when they had just passed it, that they were going to attempt swimming but just get kicked out by the landlord or the police or whoever has more authority over drunk people at 2 in the morning.

But maybe I’m just not spontaneous. Maybe I’m a fuddy-duddy. There are things that I want to do but I won’t because no one will go with me—and that’s silly—I should just go. I’m just not that great at making new friends; I have a tough exterior and I’m judgmental. Not saying those are bad traits that I want to get rid of—everyone judges, it’s what keeps us feeling secure in our decisions–past, present, future.

I’ve been trying to get better about being “nice,” though. For example, last night two very tall too-tan too-much-boob-job strippers came in with mega frowns on their faces and in my head I was like, “I don’t want to help these bitches.” Because I could tell they worked at Penthouse and I could tell that everything’s always just been given to them and they feel they can treat people like shit because of it. But then I did a switch-er-oo in my brain; I told myself, “everyone has a story,” “deep down everyone is a little insecure about their relationships to other people,” “all they want to do is buy some shit and get the fuck out, so let’s do this TOGETHER.” And eventually they softened up. And they bought more than if I hadn’t helped them at all, so la-de-da, I’m learning.

(Also, is it weird that I can tell just by looking at women what strip club they work at though I’ve never even been to any strip club myself?… I think it is.)

So yeah, I guess what I’m saying is that I need to quit being so closed off and take more opportunities even if they’re outside of my comfort zone because they could lead to better experiences in life—and if not better, at least I’ll have a story or two.





Can We Change Who We’re Attracted to?

22 06 2012

Are we all doomed to follow or fall into the same relationship patterns? And should I say “doomed” if it’s just bound to happen anyway? It’s not a very positive word to describe relationships—but maybe it’s accurate.

For example, I have been in several relationships where I have been the one telling the other what to do. Not that I necessarily want to tell the other person what to do, but because that person WANTS me to. The interactions do not function as well unless I am the one being assertive and/or making decisions.

I don’t know if I like this. Or if I’m just good at it. And just because I’m good at it doesn’t mean it’s how I want to live the rest of my life.

Is there any way to help build up a passive person’s assertiveness? This seems like an attempt to change someone, which will always fail.

Perhaps many people are just insecure when meeting/starting new relationships (friendships/more than friendships/friends with benefits,whatever types). Maybe most people are just really insecure.

Or the people I’m meeting anyway.

Or it’s just an act.

It’s hard to tell authenticity anymore.

My problem is that theoretically I want to be around people who can make their own decisions, who have opinions, who have passions of their own. I want someone to exert effort—not just for them but for me too. This is what I want. But this does not seem to be who I attract or am attracted to.

Is it just me falling into old patterns? Is it something that I can’t change? I tried dating against-type a few times and I never like them. For one thing, I don’t like people telling me what to do. So, it difficult to be around people who do that, not that they all tried that, just nothing ever clicked.

Maybe what I want is the impossible—basically—balance. A give and take, not a give give give or a take take take, whatever. Equality. Shared enthusiasms, decisions, discussions.

Perhaps in time, with lots of practice and failed attempts I can change this whole attraction / pattern issue. But for now, bring on the cheap passive insecure guys with attitude problems, yay!





5 Randoms: My Heart Isn’t Nearly as Bruised as My Body.

21 06 2012

1. Fiona Apple’s new album The Idler Wheel is amazing, as per usual. I’d rather an artist take their time to come out with something perfect than to just push stuff out for monetary (and fame) sake. Tidal though, will always be my favorite and it will always be the best no matter what.

2. I need to find a way to bruise less easily. I’ve always bruised incredibly easy—not matter my diet or exercise routine or whatever. I just looked up some tips. Looks like I need more vitamin K and crushed parsley leaves. If I had only known that years ago.

3. I think this week is more about re-training myself to sit here and write and less about the actual writing. Like, everything I’ve been writing is just random descriptions of things I’ve noticed or “conversations” to work on dialogue and I think that’s fine. I don’t need a major project right now. I just need to know that I can and will do this.

4. I’d just like to note that if I couldn’t say the word “vagina” I’d be out of a job. And I’m not the only one here. What a bunch of stupid shit happening right now. I feel like I should just stop paying attention because it’s just going to cause a brain aneurism or something just as dramatic.

5. Does anyone have suggestions for a good place to move? I’m really drawn to New Orleans for some reason. I think I could have a lot of fun there and I’ve never lived in the south before, but I’m open. I’d even be willing to ship myself overseas. Germany or Sweden or somewhere.  This won’t be for at least six months, but I need to start planning now if I really want to go.





5 Randoms: Tit for Tot.

20 06 2012

1. I wonder who the first person was to take a potato and go, “potato I’m going to make beautiful bite size bits out of you and fry them… and I will call them tots.” Because whoever that was, I thank them.

2. I really didn’t want to have a hang over today. And I guess, it’s not technically a hangover, I’m just tired because somehow I didn’t go to bed until like 5 in the morning. I looked out the window at one point and I was like, “oh my god, it’s already light outside.” That’s when I knew I was done for in regards to my writing this week. 10 hours? Only if I have a power-writing day-and it won’t be today.

3. The first couple of times I watched The Revolution it was not bad for a talk show; they had fashion, they had home improvement/home makeovers, they had food. Now it is just women crying about being awesome, but not being quite awesome enough. Lame. Just so you know ladies, you can never ever be good enough. You will never be good enough. Hence, why talk shows will always exist.

4. Where did that bruise come from?

5. Would your life would suck as a musician if you had just those one or two songs that people REQUIRED you to sing, thus being stuck singing the same songs you’re entire life. It would have to. I don’t think I could handle it. I’d probably become a crackhead. Not really. But, I’ll never have to worry about it, so I don’t even know why I’m thinking about it.

Back to bed.





5 Randoms: Writing + Being Fat + Not Liking You.

18 06 2012

1.) I’m changing my habits, without reading the book about changing habits. I’m just going to do it, because I can. The biggest change—actually writing. This week I’m going to attempt 10 hours. And I hope to slowly grow to 20 hours a week. I just have to get into a pattern and get over my psychological fear of actually doing the thing I should be doing. I don’t know which is harder– the development of a pattern or  getting over the fear. The pattern is difficult because my work schedule changes every week and it’s usually something ridiculous like, close the store Monday, work a mid-shift Tuesday and open Wednesday. So yeah, establishing a routine isn’t very possible. But making sure every room is clean, dishes are washed, emails returned, phone calls made–just to distract myself from writing– also not easy to get over. A writer’s dilemma–or just our basic behavior?

2. I want to reward myself if I’m able to do it; nothing too big since I need to do it every week any way. It’s just the beginning changes that are going to be the most challenging. I can’t even think of a good/cheap reward except maybe a trip to the thrift store for a “new” outfit. Maybe some SWEET ACTION! The best ice cream around town (pretty much the only vegan ice cream around town).

3. Speaking of vegan, there are two things I’ve always been insecure about, my weight and my intelligence. It’s taken a lot of time to accept what I look like physically as well as accept my limitations mentally. When people make “jokes” about either though, I still get pissed. And I will probably continue to do so my entire life. People can make all the cracks they want to about vegans in general because I know it’s just a defense mechanism brought on by feelings of guilt that have nothing to do with me. When it starts to have something to do with me, I’m no longer going to play nice.

4. In regards to playing nice—I want to learn how to punch.

People say, “oh you just swing your fist at someone’s face/stomach/balls etc.,” but no, a good punch has more going on than just that. I’m almost entirely sure of it.

5. It’s super hot around here, which I don’t mind–except when it comes to coffee. I need some sort of wake-up boost in the morning, especially if I’m going to be writing for hours, but hot coffee is just not working. I’m going to have to start brewing it the night before and chilling it. It’s the only way.

Because I already drink too many energy drinks at work.

I’d say it’s a terrible habit, but to be honest, if drink one I can guarantee-sell high-end toys with a smile. If I don’t drink one, I really don’t give a F what people buy. So, they’re worth it. Even though I’m sure in ten years they will be the cause of every known new/weird/deadly disease out there.

This guy is helping me get through my writing day. 





Love is Down to Zero.

14 06 2012

If I thought May was Manless it has nothing on June.

My fwb found girlfriends (yes that’s plural). My lust turned to dust–after a long-weekend road trip. Random unclear communication via facebook messenger ended a fizzling flame. And a certain person that I may or may not work with appears to be incredibly flakey and I’m pretty sure a secret pick-up artist. When I said, “I’m reading The Game,” he quickly expressed that he had “never heard of it.” Which makes me think he had not only heard of it, but read it and practices it. Because most people would just be like–The Game? What’s that about. If they had indeed never heard of it. But, maybe I’m just paranoid now. (More on The Game another day.)

So yeah, I purposely gave up men in May, but now they all seem to giving up on me. I have been considering re-inabling my online dating account because I feel alone and it’s easy to get attention that way.

I have no qualms admitting that I enjoy attention from other people; I do in fact need it, at least a little bit of it so as I justify my existence to myself–I know that’s not healthy but at least it’s honest.

My roommate said I have no idea how to be alone. Or something equal to that.

Yeah.

Fine.

That’s what I was trying to do in May. To learn how to be alone. And to be fine with it.

And I was fine with it. But I guess, I wasn’t really “alone” as I was still talking to guys all the time, I just wasn’t going out with them.

Now I’m doing neither.

AND I’M OKAY I SWEAR IT.

I’m just bored. I want people to talk to in a meaningful way. I want someone to watch netflix with. I want someone to occasionally sleep in my bed (I say occasionally because I still prefer to sleep at a diagonal and I am not willing to give that up.) I want someone to challenge me, to push me to be my best self–and I to them. I want someone to rub my feet after I’ve been standing on concrete for eight + hours a day. I want to someone to laugh at my really bad jokes, and occasionally dish one out too.

This list could end up being a novel so I’m going to stop there.

. . . . .

Fine people. Fine. I’ll be alone.

I’ll start working on my book for real.

Forget what I want in my personal life. I don’t need one of those any way. . . I mean, yes I want one, but I guess I just have to accept the fact that I don’t have the personality for it and become a hermit writer, just like I am destined to be but somehow keep avoiding.





I Should Have Just Said No.

13 06 2012

I found drugs on the floor at work the other night. Since I have never consumed hard drugs before I’m still not entirely sure what it was, there were two bags. My educated guess–meth and coke. Or crack and coke. I still don’t know. It doesn’t matter any way because it’s all been flushed down the toilet.

I probably could have made bank from it. Or at least enough to buy myself a nice supply of drugs I actually consume–alcohol.

But the weirdest drug story actually happened last night.

I was working upstairs and these two middle eastern men were shopping around. One didn’t want my help, the other one wanted me to help him find a pill that one could take to make a person “smell” good.

I have never heard of such thing.

After that, the other guy tried to explain they were actually looking for a liquid substance that one could put in a woman’s orange juice or water so that she would “want to do it.”

I just stared at them.

I asked him to repeat what he wanted.

I stared some more.

All I could think of was that these guys we’re looking for GHB and wanted to go out and date-rape.

I pointed them to our G-Spark pill. And these “arousal” shooters we have.

The pills we have in the store would never knock a woman out; they probably really wouldn’t do much of anything as I’m assuming it’s much more placebo-effect than anything else.

I was still disturbed by the incident.

To be “slipped” something–whether all natural or chemically compounded is still a violation of human rights. It is in fact, deceit, and I was creeped out that these men were more than likely going to spike a woman’s drink because the women they knew didn’t want to be sexual with them to begin with.

Gross.

I really didn’t know how to respond.

The two guys didn’t end up buying any, but then a third one came in an hour later and purchased a shooter.

I can only hope the woman is aware she is consuming it. I think I’m going to have to have a conversation with these men the next time they come in. Part of my job is to educate, so they’re going to get a ear-full.

Word.