Evangeline Ask me how many times I've let a guy do coke off my pussy. No don't ask. Ok, ill tell you. Twice.
I’m private
PICS
Evangeline: And then I went to Opal Divine's and i was wearing boots but the guy was like 'i know you, you're the girl i see around town in those amazing thigh high socks!'
Zach Muhn: So now you're the sock girl.
E: I guess so.
Z: I'm sure that there are worse thing thatcould-
E: Hey, Listen, on a scale of one to ten, how creepy is is to sell worn panties?
Z: Ten. Definitely.
E: Now, you realize that like a ten is really reallly creepy and a one is not creepy at all.
Z: Oh, then let me adjust. No, a ten. Like, I didn't even have to waver between a nine and ten, i just went straight to it. Who are you selling your worn panties to?
E: (gasp) I didn't say it was me. I was just asking.
Z: Who is it?
E: Okay, let's say on a scale of one to ten how creepy is it to sell one's used thigh high socks.
Z: Oh god, I wish it went higher than a ten. Ten.
Michelle: I could get behind this. Like, Nick shouldn't have told me about those foot sessions.
E: Sell shit on ebanned.
M: I could do anything like that. Anything that's anonymous and requires little to no effort from me. You want me to hang out at your house in my underwear and watch a movie while you sit on the other side of the room? Sure, I'll do it. Want me to throw a grapefruit in your face? I'll do it.
E: You could be the Gallagher of porn.
Z: Here's three hundred dollars, and the sex was more than adequate.
You see, i bring this all up because this week my boyfriend accused me of prostituting, i watched Pretty Woman for the first time, and i debated a career selling dirty underwear on craigslist. Which i passed on to Michelle. As illustrated.
For reals.
It feels kind of weird to not be trusted. I don't know, it's a small price to pay.
HELL CITY! It's coming up. My birhtday is on the 12th and then four days later i will be smashed in the hottest hotel room ever, featuring
Fatality, Ryker, Smythe, Ginary, and Lee
If i forgotted someone it's not because we don't have room, it's because i don't have the list right in front of me.
I can't stop watching the Mighty Boosh. I'm getting Naboo tattooed on my body as soon as my refund check comes in, no lie.
I leave you with this
my new hamster.
Zach Muhn: So now you're the sock girl.
E: I guess so.
Z: I'm sure that there are worse thing thatcould-
E: Hey, Listen, on a scale of one to ten, how creepy is is to sell worn panties?
Z: Ten. Definitely.
E: Now, you realize that like a ten is really reallly creepy and a one is not creepy at all.
Z: Oh, then let me adjust. No, a ten. Like, I didn't even have to waver between a nine and ten, i just went straight to it. Who are you selling your worn panties to?
E: (gasp) I didn't say it was me. I was just asking.
Z: Who is it?
E: Okay, let's say on a scale of one to ten how creepy is it to sell one's used thigh high socks.
Z: Oh god, I wish it went higher than a ten. Ten.
Michelle: I could get behind this. Like, Nick shouldn't have told me about those foot sessions.
E: Sell shit on ebanned.
M: I could do anything like that. Anything that's anonymous and requires little to no effort from me. You want me to hang out at your house in my underwear and watch a movie while you sit on the other side of the room? Sure, I'll do it. Want me to throw a grapefruit in your face? I'll do it.
E: You could be the Gallagher of porn.
Z: Here's three hundred dollars, and the sex was more than adequate.
You see, i bring this all up because this week my boyfriend accused me of prostituting, i watched Pretty Woman for the first time, and i debated a career selling dirty underwear on craigslist. Which i passed on to Michelle. As illustrated.
For reals.
It feels kind of weird to not be trusted. I don't know, it's a small price to pay.
HELL CITY! It's coming up. My birhtday is on the 12th and then four days later i will be smashed in the hottest hotel room ever, featuring
Fatality, Ryker, Smythe, Ginary, and Lee
If i forgotted someone it's not because we don't have room, it's because i don't have the list right in front of me.
I can't stop watching the Mighty Boosh. I'm getting Naboo tattooed on my body as soon as my refund check comes in, no lie.
I leave you with this
my new hamster.
oh man.
Today has been cool/shitty. Tomorrow i have my trial for my DWI from sixmonths ago. Sometimes, i really hate Texas.
Other times, like every other time, i really love Texas. I love Austin. Even when i'm poor- like now. I am working at Perfect Ten tonight to hopefully counteract this poorness.
I feel so stagnant and hopeless. I feel like i need to grow a proactive fucking backbone if i ever want to progress and not sell breathable shoes for the rest of my life. I want to write. I wrote an entire webtv series, one that would be perfect for sg. But suddenly i'm way too intimidated to take the steps towards...well anything.
I have a set idea for the self shot contest, but i need some money to do it and i need to not be so intimidated about submitting it. I need to think straight.
On the upside, the most humiliating thing that has ever happened to me actually happened last night. It tops the previous amazing story- both of which i will gladly share with you now.
FORMERLY REIGNING MOST HUMILIATING MOMENT
When i first started stripping i was really slef-conscious about my razorburn. Someone told me it would go away if i started waxing, so i asked the little Korean woman who usually did my nails to give me a brazilian.
She leads me to a tiny room with what looks like an old ob/gyn patient table. One wall is floor to ceiling mirror. She instructs me to take off my pants. I do.
'No, take off your underwear too, silly.'
I do. I lay on the table and regretfully catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, laying on a tbale with a shirt, nare-ass, and mismatched sockas and tennis shoes. I already feel ridiculous.
She sits down adn pulls a device up to my vagina that is somthing like a giant magnifying glass with a mirror and starts waxing. The pain wasn't too bad. Then she sits down and starts tweezing. I mean, like going to town. And she had no scruples about where she rested her fingers. I squeeze my eyes shut so i don't accidentally get my reflection.
'You do this for your husband?'
'What? No.' How do i tell this 50 year old Korean woman i do this for the titty bar?
A lot of time passes. I start to think something has gone wrong. Maybe it just feels like a million hours because its so awkward. Just when i think i'm going to bolt she rolls back in her chair, sighs, and looks at me.
'Sorry it take me long time, but you see- your hair, like TWO HAIR normal girl!'
oh god.
That was pretty bad, right? Well last night topped it.
Russell and i are exchanging...um...oral favors. After he's done i feel nice and relaxed and wonderful. Then i notice him patting the couch.
'What are you doing?'
'I had some gum earlier.'
'You're joking! WHY DIDN'T YOU TAKE IT OUT??'
'I forgot.'
I pat around on the couch. I knew i felt kinda tingly. Then i feel it. It has lodged itself in my ass, completing cementing my cheeks together.
I run to the bathroom and spend the next 20 minutes scrubbing it out with shampoo and various other lotions/soaps. I have to hike one leg up on the counter and stare at my own asshole in the mirror. There are still white flecks i can't quite get off.
'What the hell were you thinking?'
HEy. It could have been worse. A) i could have had pubic hair or b) i could have had to shit and it would have been stuck inside until i exploded.
Maybe if i had needed to fart it would have blown a bubble.
minibedset
Today has been cool/shitty. Tomorrow i have my trial for my DWI from sixmonths ago. Sometimes, i really hate Texas.
Other times, like every other time, i really love Texas. I love Austin. Even when i'm poor- like now. I am working at Perfect Ten tonight to hopefully counteract this poorness.
I feel so stagnant and hopeless. I feel like i need to grow a proactive fucking backbone if i ever want to progress and not sell breathable shoes for the rest of my life. I want to write. I wrote an entire webtv series, one that would be perfect for sg. But suddenly i'm way too intimidated to take the steps towards...well anything.
I have a set idea for the self shot contest, but i need some money to do it and i need to not be so intimidated about submitting it. I need to think straight.
On the upside, the most humiliating thing that has ever happened to me actually happened last night. It tops the previous amazing story- both of which i will gladly share with you now.
FORMERLY REIGNING MOST HUMILIATING MOMENT
When i first started stripping i was really slef-conscious about my razorburn. Someone told me it would go away if i started waxing, so i asked the little Korean woman who usually did my nails to give me a brazilian.
She leads me to a tiny room with what looks like an old ob/gyn patient table. One wall is floor to ceiling mirror. She instructs me to take off my pants. I do.
'No, take off your underwear too, silly.'
I do. I lay on the table and regretfully catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, laying on a tbale with a shirt, nare-ass, and mismatched sockas and tennis shoes. I already feel ridiculous.
She sits down adn pulls a device up to my vagina that is somthing like a giant magnifying glass with a mirror and starts waxing. The pain wasn't too bad. Then she sits down and starts tweezing. I mean, like going to town. And she had no scruples about where she rested her fingers. I squeeze my eyes shut so i don't accidentally get my reflection.
'You do this for your husband?'
'What? No.' How do i tell this 50 year old Korean woman i do this for the titty bar?
A lot of time passes. I start to think something has gone wrong. Maybe it just feels like a million hours because its so awkward. Just when i think i'm going to bolt she rolls back in her chair, sighs, and looks at me.
'Sorry it take me long time, but you see- your hair, like TWO HAIR normal girl!'
oh god.
That was pretty bad, right? Well last night topped it.
Russell and i are exchanging...um...oral favors. After he's done i feel nice and relaxed and wonderful. Then i notice him patting the couch.
'What are you doing?'
'I had some gum earlier.'
'You're joking! WHY DIDN'T YOU TAKE IT OUT??'
'I forgot.'
I pat around on the couch. I knew i felt kinda tingly. Then i feel it. It has lodged itself in my ass, completing cementing my cheeks together.
I run to the bathroom and spend the next 20 minutes scrubbing it out with shampoo and various other lotions/soaps. I have to hike one leg up on the counter and stare at my own asshole in the mirror. There are still white flecks i can't quite get off.
'What the hell were you thinking?'
HEy. It could have been worse. A) i could have had pubic hair or b) i could have had to shit and it would have been stuck inside until i exploded.
Maybe if i had needed to fart it would have blown a bubble.
minibedset
RIPSXSW08
I hate live music. I know, right? I have a pretty Jewy reason behind it, too. It's too loud, you have to scream in the ear your mates just to tell them you're going to the bathroom, it's hell to get a drink and get back to your spot and i never know what to do with my hands. I feel so awkward and like everyone can tell i'm not REALLY enjoying myself and everyone's thinking, 'what's wrong with her? I mean- who doesn't like music?'
But i do like music. I even like loud music. But i like having control over it. Nevertheless, i hadn't been out in awhile and it's always fun to scheme on the visiting hipsters so i ventured downtown Saturday night on the peak night of South by Southwest. I was determined to do everything inmy power to go to a good bar without being subject to an indie show. Beauty Bar was wristbands only and Mugshots was hosting the ME televsion party. Black and Tan was confusing and i wanted to wait until my friend Wendy got there at 11. Sheila Suicide was at Cedar Door but i think something got lost in transmittance because we never met up.
Creekside looked promising. No line and nothing but a harmless jukebox playing. I go outside to enjoy a stolen cigarette and engage at least 3 superhot hipsterboys. It was a good twenty minutes before i turn myhead to the left and realize that i wasn't a record playing but actually real live rappers and like Jurassic 2 out of 5. That's how oblivious i am to live music.
I'm talking to Hipster Tyler and this girl is making out with his friend and keeps trying to rope him in. I make light of the threeway sex they will have later which opens the door for Hipster Not Ironically Effiminate (oh, let's call him...) Evan to be a total creepfest and make weird half joking invitations to Tyler and i. He slaps my thigh and asks me to make out.
'Look buddy, the jury's still out on your sexuality.'
'You think i'm gay?'
'I think you're ridiculous.'
Tyler informs me his friends want food. I'm invited but i want more booze.
'Have fun with the A-Framing.'
Eventually i run into a girl i know and we contemplate a drug run and head for Black and Tan. More drinks, more girls, more hipsters. I meet Russell's boss. I meet Russell's boss' wife. I just remember she was blonde and what she looked like from below sitting on the edge of the toilet. I think Russell lies a lot more than i care to think about. Maybe that's unfair.
I have lots of fun with Wendy and all her gorgeous friends. At some point a band starts playing in another part of the bar. I'm so happy i don't care. Chris Groaner shows up but someone steals him before i get to hang out with him at all.
At home i shed my gold hotpants and green leopard print tights. I'm in a men's american apparel shirt by the time Russell returns from locking the door and i'm already to asleep to fuck. Oh well.
I may hate live music, i may hate tourist traffic, and sometimes i may even hate hipsters. But by god, sxsw sure put a jolt in the bedroom of me and Austin Nightlife.
Sunday? Well, Sunday we were back to benevolently ignoring each other through the morning paper.
me and wendy
I hate live music. I know, right? I have a pretty Jewy reason behind it, too. It's too loud, you have to scream in the ear your mates just to tell them you're going to the bathroom, it's hell to get a drink and get back to your spot and i never know what to do with my hands. I feel so awkward and like everyone can tell i'm not REALLY enjoying myself and everyone's thinking, 'what's wrong with her? I mean- who doesn't like music?'
But i do like music. I even like loud music. But i like having control over it. Nevertheless, i hadn't been out in awhile and it's always fun to scheme on the visiting hipsters so i ventured downtown Saturday night on the peak night of South by Southwest. I was determined to do everything inmy power to go to a good bar without being subject to an indie show. Beauty Bar was wristbands only and Mugshots was hosting the ME televsion party. Black and Tan was confusing and i wanted to wait until my friend Wendy got there at 11. Sheila Suicide was at Cedar Door but i think something got lost in transmittance because we never met up.
Creekside looked promising. No line and nothing but a harmless jukebox playing. I go outside to enjoy a stolen cigarette and engage at least 3 superhot hipsterboys. It was a good twenty minutes before i turn myhead to the left and realize that i wasn't a record playing but actually real live rappers and like Jurassic 2 out of 5. That's how oblivious i am to live music.
I'm talking to Hipster Tyler and this girl is making out with his friend and keeps trying to rope him in. I make light of the threeway sex they will have later which opens the door for Hipster Not Ironically Effiminate (oh, let's call him...) Evan to be a total creepfest and make weird half joking invitations to Tyler and i. He slaps my thigh and asks me to make out.
'Look buddy, the jury's still out on your sexuality.'
'You think i'm gay?'
'I think you're ridiculous.'
Tyler informs me his friends want food. I'm invited but i want more booze.
'Have fun with the A-Framing.'
Eventually i run into a girl i know and we contemplate a drug run and head for Black and Tan. More drinks, more girls, more hipsters. I meet Russell's boss. I meet Russell's boss' wife. I just remember she was blonde and what she looked like from below sitting on the edge of the toilet. I think Russell lies a lot more than i care to think about. Maybe that's unfair.
I have lots of fun with Wendy and all her gorgeous friends. At some point a band starts playing in another part of the bar. I'm so happy i don't care. Chris Groaner shows up but someone steals him before i get to hang out with him at all.
At home i shed my gold hotpants and green leopard print tights. I'm in a men's american apparel shirt by the time Russell returns from locking the door and i'm already to asleep to fuck. Oh well.
I may hate live music, i may hate tourist traffic, and sometimes i may even hate hipsters. But by god, sxsw sure put a jolt in the bedroom of me and Austin Nightlife.
Sunday? Well, Sunday we were back to benevolently ignoring each other through the morning paper.
me and wendy
Friends, Romans, countrymen, send me your cheers!
Hear comes March, truly in like a lion. Only a lion from somewhere cold and disgusting, not a normal lion from warm sunny Africa. It might snow tonight. That's ridiculous.
Especially ridiculous because i will be working tonight at Perfect 10 Gentlemen's Club. It'll be fun, i will be dancing and naked and gyrating and hopefully drunk. Come and join me! Anyone in townyet for SX? Come by! Spend some time with me! Spend some moeny on me! Make it rain up in da club...
I tried to convince Austinites today to wear western shirts and boots for the next week just to further perpetuate the stereotype that Texans are cowboys. Nobody was having it, but really the truth is that hipster kids look like that anyway.
Anyone staying downtown during SX? Last week i thought it would be a pleasant surprise to show up at my boyfriend's work towards the end of his shift with a giant hurricane vase full of twizzlers and covered in cat stickers. He's a chef at a fine dining restaurant at a prominent Austin hotel. It ended being not as cute of an idea as i thought it would be.
I shall share it with you in a one act.
Hotel Bar, Sunday night. Enter EVANGELINE, bedecked in American Apparel purple shorts, u-plunge top and cowboy boots holding giant hurricane vase containing two pounds of twizzlers and gummy bears. A room full of bougie BUSINESSMEN stop all conversation and leer creepily at her. She takes the lone empty seat at the bar.
BARKEEP: (eyes her suspiciously) What can i get for you?
EVANGELINE: (to herself) Don't say vodka/redbull...think of something classy...(aloud) Gin and tonic, please.
BUSINESSMAN #1: (familiarly touching her back) How are you doing tonight?
EVANGELINE: (confused and icked out) Umm...fine.
BARKEEP: Here you go. Gin and tonic.
BUSINESSMAN #2: (thick Russian accent) You should never drink alone. Cheers!
EVANGELINE: Oh, Cheers.
BUSINESS MAN#2: What brings you out tonight?
EVANGELINE: (surveys room, feels extremely awkward before suddenly realizing they all think she is a high-end call girl trolling for clients) I'M HEAR TO SEE MY BOYFRIEND! He works here. This is for him (indicates vase) He's a chef.
BUSINESSMAN#2: Oh, that's nice. (indicates salad) Did he make htis?
EVANGELINE: Probably.
BM2: Tell him next time less feta cheese. I'm Alex.
EVAGNELINE: Oh, nice to meet you.
(conversatoins insues about petty smalltalk)
ALEX: SO when your boyfriend gets here do you think you'll fight?
EVANGELINE: WHy would we fight? I don't think so...
ALEX: Well, if you do fight, my room number is 1526. Call the front desk and ask for me, If he yell at you, I will take you out we havenice time and nobody needs to know.
EVANGELINE: Ooookay.
(more conversatoin that eventually comes around to nationality)
ALEX: You're from Israel? Where?
EVANGELINE: Chaifa.
ALEX: That is one place i have never been in Israel. So you are Jewish? So am i, I am from Russia.
EVANGELINE: Oh, i have ancestors from Russia.
ALEX: Of course you do, all Jews are from Russia.
EVAGNELINE: I don't think...oh Russell!
RUSSELL enters, pleased to see his girlfriend, more pleased to see twizzlers, appearingly nonplussed to the lecherous glances.
ALEX: Ah! You are Israeli also?
EVANGALINE: Ha! No, he's Irish. He's white, basically. He's a gentile.
ALEX: That's okay, all i have been with are shiksas.
Russel, mouthful of twizzlers, and Evangeline, eager to leave behind her half-full gin and tonic, say their goodbyes to Alex and exit.
For reals.
Hear comes March, truly in like a lion. Only a lion from somewhere cold and disgusting, not a normal lion from warm sunny Africa. It might snow tonight. That's ridiculous.
Especially ridiculous because i will be working tonight at Perfect 10 Gentlemen's Club. It'll be fun, i will be dancing and naked and gyrating and hopefully drunk. Come and join me! Anyone in townyet for SX? Come by! Spend some time with me! Spend some moeny on me! Make it rain up in da club...
I tried to convince Austinites today to wear western shirts and boots for the next week just to further perpetuate the stereotype that Texans are cowboys. Nobody was having it, but really the truth is that hipster kids look like that anyway.
Anyone staying downtown during SX? Last week i thought it would be a pleasant surprise to show up at my boyfriend's work towards the end of his shift with a giant hurricane vase full of twizzlers and covered in cat stickers. He's a chef at a fine dining restaurant at a prominent Austin hotel. It ended being not as cute of an idea as i thought it would be.
I shall share it with you in a one act.
Hotel Bar, Sunday night. Enter EVANGELINE, bedecked in American Apparel purple shorts, u-plunge top and cowboy boots holding giant hurricane vase containing two pounds of twizzlers and gummy bears. A room full of bougie BUSINESSMEN stop all conversation and leer creepily at her. She takes the lone empty seat at the bar.
BARKEEP: (eyes her suspiciously) What can i get for you?
EVANGELINE: (to herself) Don't say vodka/redbull...think of something classy...(aloud) Gin and tonic, please.
BUSINESSMAN #1: (familiarly touching her back) How are you doing tonight?
EVANGELINE: (confused and icked out) Umm...fine.
BARKEEP: Here you go. Gin and tonic.
BUSINESSMAN #2: (thick Russian accent) You should never drink alone. Cheers!
EVANGELINE: Oh, Cheers.
BUSINESS MAN#2: What brings you out tonight?
EVANGELINE: (surveys room, feels extremely awkward before suddenly realizing they all think she is a high-end call girl trolling for clients) I'M HEAR TO SEE MY BOYFRIEND! He works here. This is for him (indicates vase) He's a chef.
BUSINESSMAN#2: Oh, that's nice. (indicates salad) Did he make htis?
EVANGELINE: Probably.
BM2: Tell him next time less feta cheese. I'm Alex.
EVAGNELINE: Oh, nice to meet you.
(conversatoins insues about petty smalltalk)
ALEX: SO when your boyfriend gets here do you think you'll fight?
EVANGELINE: WHy would we fight? I don't think so...
ALEX: Well, if you do fight, my room number is 1526. Call the front desk and ask for me, If he yell at you, I will take you out we havenice time and nobody needs to know.
EVANGELINE: Ooookay.
(more conversatoin that eventually comes around to nationality)
ALEX: You're from Israel? Where?
EVANGELINE: Chaifa.
ALEX: That is one place i have never been in Israel. So you are Jewish? So am i, I am from Russia.
EVANGELINE: Oh, i have ancestors from Russia.
ALEX: Of course you do, all Jews are from Russia.
EVAGNELINE: I don't think...oh Russell!
RUSSELL enters, pleased to see his girlfriend, more pleased to see twizzlers, appearingly nonplussed to the lecherous glances.
ALEX: Ah! You are Israeli also?
EVANGALINE: Ha! No, he's Irish. He's white, basically. He's a gentile.
ALEX: That's okay, all i have been with are shiksas.
Russel, mouthful of twizzlers, and Evangeline, eager to leave behind her half-full gin and tonic, say their goodbyes to Alex and exit.
For reals.
I love my job. I sell shoes. The shoes are fine and all but it's the people i work with that really do it for me, i think i've mentioned this before.
You know when people just GET you? We're a well oiled machine; we get each other. Mix that in with almost complete lack of customers and you get a very Clerks-esque situation.
It's a new store in the mall so there's a lot of dead space, still researching what makes people want the shoes or not. One of my coworkers decided it would be useful to start keeping a list of all the people that try on a shoe but DON'T buy- that way we have to learn their names so we establish a relationship with the customer and we can figure out kind of things to look for.
I told him that it was a great idea but i can already foresee the problem with this. Generally after talking with a customer and pulling different shoes from the stockroom and placing them on a strange foot it can be a letdown when they don't buy anything and you are tempted to fill out the form as follows:
Name: Persnickety Old Hag
Reason Didn't Buy: Couldn't find shoes to fit on gigantic old hag feet
But i haven't. I have exhibited the utmost self control and refrained.
Until today.
You must understand! It was so slow and the other manager was putting up new shoes in the back. I was all alone and sooo fucking bored! So this is what resulted:
Name: Frenchie DeMaupassant
Reason Didn't Buy: Not French enough
Name: Allistor Poughkeepsie
Reason Didn't Buy: More Cowbell
Name: Ernesto Guevera
Reason Didn't Buy: Not Union Made
Name: Fermat
Reason Didn't Buy: Formulated excellent theory on why our shoes are stupid, but left before he could prove it
Name: Joe Dem
Reason Didn't Buy: Liked the new styles, but looking for something less feminine but not in black
Name: Wynona Rider
Reason Didn't Buy: Tried and liekd several different styles but left abruptly without purchasing?
Name: Morty Seinfeld
Reason Didn't Buy: Left in furious rage claiming women's jacket a 'ripoff' of 'The Executive'
Name: Justin T.
REason Didn't Buy: Really just tried on shoe to have opportunity to invite me to his hotel later
Name: Nancy S.
Reason Didn't Buy: Boots not suitable for walking over unsavory gentlemen
Name: Joe Cocker
Reason Didn't Buy: Had to have a little help from his friends deciding...returned after his friends then got him high and told him he would look fine if he just left his hat on
Name: Britney S.
Reason Didn't Buy: Not enough fired chicken and vagina
My exboyfriend Brian rode a motorcycle. The news just reported a fatal motorcycle crash, no one i know.
It's never the ones you hope.
You know when people just GET you? We're a well oiled machine; we get each other. Mix that in with almost complete lack of customers and you get a very Clerks-esque situation.
It's a new store in the mall so there's a lot of dead space, still researching what makes people want the shoes or not. One of my coworkers decided it would be useful to start keeping a list of all the people that try on a shoe but DON'T buy- that way we have to learn their names so we establish a relationship with the customer and we can figure out kind of things to look for.
I told him that it was a great idea but i can already foresee the problem with this. Generally after talking with a customer and pulling different shoes from the stockroom and placing them on a strange foot it can be a letdown when they don't buy anything and you are tempted to fill out the form as follows:
Name: Persnickety Old Hag
Reason Didn't Buy: Couldn't find shoes to fit on gigantic old hag feet
But i haven't. I have exhibited the utmost self control and refrained.
Until today.
You must understand! It was so slow and the other manager was putting up new shoes in the back. I was all alone and sooo fucking bored! So this is what resulted:
Name: Frenchie DeMaupassant
Reason Didn't Buy: Not French enough
Name: Allistor Poughkeepsie
Reason Didn't Buy: More Cowbell
Name: Ernesto Guevera
Reason Didn't Buy: Not Union Made
Name: Fermat
Reason Didn't Buy: Formulated excellent theory on why our shoes are stupid, but left before he could prove it
Name: Joe Dem
Reason Didn't Buy: Liked the new styles, but looking for something less feminine but not in black
Name: Wynona Rider
Reason Didn't Buy: Tried and liekd several different styles but left abruptly without purchasing?
Name: Morty Seinfeld
Reason Didn't Buy: Left in furious rage claiming women's jacket a 'ripoff' of 'The Executive'
Name: Justin T.
REason Didn't Buy: Really just tried on shoe to have opportunity to invite me to his hotel later
Name: Nancy S.
Reason Didn't Buy: Boots not suitable for walking over unsavory gentlemen
Name: Joe Cocker
Reason Didn't Buy: Had to have a little help from his friends deciding...returned after his friends then got him high and told him he would look fine if he just left his hat on
Name: Britney S.
Reason Didn't Buy: Not enough fired chicken and vagina
My exboyfriend Brian rode a motorcycle. The news just reported a fatal motorcycle crash, no one i know.
It's never the ones you hope.
Do me a square and if you haven't checked out the set i have in hopefuls, do it now. It's quickly being eclipsed by random nakedness...that's all i'll say.
So last night was like this:
Russell. Russell. Russell? Russell russelll. I could smell him when i breathed. I could feel him when i blinked. I could close my eyes and imagine the kill, could practically TASTE the dicking he would give me. I couldn't wait for him to get off work. I was utterly feral and there was nothing i could do but lay on the couch with no pants and waitwaitwait for him to get off work because he's a chef in a fine dining restaurant and it was Valentine's Day. At midnight he sent me a text saying he'd be there in twenty minutes. I sent him one saying i'd be the one asleep on the couch.
At 2 a.m. muthafucka strolls in apologizing that work kept him so incredibly late. I was the one asleep on the couch. I said it was fine, i understood. Then i snuggled him and told him he smelled like booze. He admitted to having a few drinks at work to take the edge off.
Hmmm. Shady? I am owed one deep dicking. Maybe more...
I'd like to take amoment to talk about something important, someting close to my heart. I know people yammer on and on about it but i, too, have my two cents. That's right folks, i want to talk about Britney Spears.
I think there is really nothing better in the world that could have happened than Britney Spears going completely batshit insane. And not because i think she's a bad artist. I love her music. Because it was simply fantastic. Don't get me wrong- i like her and i hope she goes all noncrazy soon and all that. But really- fantastic.
I think the reason that people are so completely fascinated by it is because it's actually a little terrifying. What's happenin here is Britney Spears is looking at us with those wide faux-British eyes and sayin 'This could happen to you.' Because apparently it can.
America has watched Britney Spears grow up in succes and affluence. She was a virginal baby-voiced crooner and the darling of the media. She had a wonderful boyfriend. She had a husband and children and the American dream and fame and when she was interviewed, well don't you know with that southern twang she sounded just like one of us!
If you think about it, Britney Spears is just like you. Only crazy.
A few months back i had a moment lik hers. I was driving to class when all of a sudden a justin timberlake song came on the radio and i thought about the new Justin Timberlake album and how i didn't own it. I thought about suddenly going to a record store and stealing it. Well, while i was doing that- why not rob the whole damn place? Not because i especially needed money or JT c.d.s but just because...well...it was a thing in the universe that could be done.
I didn't do it. But i thought about it, like REALLY thought about it. And we all have moments like this where we teeter on the edge of driving to Arabic class and committing a frivolous felony. And we pick up the magazine and look at Britney Spears and go 'Shit! She really did it. When is that going to happen to me?' And THAT is why it's so goddam interesting.
When i told a friend of my experience he suggested that maybe it's Justin Timbelake that makes girls go unflatteringly wacko. This just simply isn't true. I wish i had his life, or what i call 'the Justice of the Timberlake'.
Imagine a breakup. A public one. You were cheated on. And you think to yourself 'man, i hope something terrible happens to them someday, just so they can get their just desert'. And nothing happens. For a good while even, they seem to be doing better than you.
And then whammo! They get divorced, shave their head and wag their genitals around for the whole world to see-so much in fact that the world says 'Enough! We wanted it before but now it's too much!' What would you give for your worst ex do just go compleately fucking insane? Meanwhile, you're topping charts and putting your dick in a box and charming the whole world. I would give a lot.
Now go see me get naked for Justin Timberlake.
So last night was like this:
Russell. Russell. Russell? Russell russelll. I could smell him when i breathed. I could feel him when i blinked. I could close my eyes and imagine the kill, could practically TASTE the dicking he would give me. I couldn't wait for him to get off work. I was utterly feral and there was nothing i could do but lay on the couch with no pants and waitwaitwait for him to get off work because he's a chef in a fine dining restaurant and it was Valentine's Day. At midnight he sent me a text saying he'd be there in twenty minutes. I sent him one saying i'd be the one asleep on the couch.
At 2 a.m. muthafucka strolls in apologizing that work kept him so incredibly late. I was the one asleep on the couch. I said it was fine, i understood. Then i snuggled him and told him he smelled like booze. He admitted to having a few drinks at work to take the edge off.
Hmmm. Shady? I am owed one deep dicking. Maybe more...
I'd like to take amoment to talk about something important, someting close to my heart. I know people yammer on and on about it but i, too, have my two cents. That's right folks, i want to talk about Britney Spears.
I think there is really nothing better in the world that could have happened than Britney Spears going completely batshit insane. And not because i think she's a bad artist. I love her music. Because it was simply fantastic. Don't get me wrong- i like her and i hope she goes all noncrazy soon and all that. But really- fantastic.
I think the reason that people are so completely fascinated by it is because it's actually a little terrifying. What's happenin here is Britney Spears is looking at us with those wide faux-British eyes and sayin 'This could happen to you.' Because apparently it can.
America has watched Britney Spears grow up in succes and affluence. She was a virginal baby-voiced crooner and the darling of the media. She had a wonderful boyfriend. She had a husband and children and the American dream and fame and when she was interviewed, well don't you know with that southern twang she sounded just like one of us!
If you think about it, Britney Spears is just like you. Only crazy.
A few months back i had a moment lik hers. I was driving to class when all of a sudden a justin timberlake song came on the radio and i thought about the new Justin Timberlake album and how i didn't own it. I thought about suddenly going to a record store and stealing it. Well, while i was doing that- why not rob the whole damn place? Not because i especially needed money or JT c.d.s but just because...well...it was a thing in the universe that could be done.
I didn't do it. But i thought about it, like REALLY thought about it. And we all have moments like this where we teeter on the edge of driving to Arabic class and committing a frivolous felony. And we pick up the magazine and look at Britney Spears and go 'Shit! She really did it. When is that going to happen to me?' And THAT is why it's so goddam interesting.
When i told a friend of my experience he suggested that maybe it's Justin Timbelake that makes girls go unflatteringly wacko. This just simply isn't true. I wish i had his life, or what i call 'the Justice of the Timberlake'.
Imagine a breakup. A public one. You were cheated on. And you think to yourself 'man, i hope something terrible happens to them someday, just so they can get their just desert'. And nothing happens. For a good while even, they seem to be doing better than you.
And then whammo! They get divorced, shave their head and wag their genitals around for the whole world to see-so much in fact that the world says 'Enough! We wanted it before but now it's too much!' What would you give for your worst ex do just go compleately fucking insane? Meanwhile, you're topping charts and putting your dick in a box and charming the whole world. I would give a lot.
Now go see me get naked for Justin Timberlake.
