Welcome to Hell

Welcome to hell. Please take a number. Her Evilness will be with you when she damn well feels like it.

Monday, February 28, 2011

and then, THAT happened.

y'all, i really, REALLY wish i had some pictures of this event.
it's just that some people really object to you taking naked pictures of them while they're humiliating a bachelor.

no this isn't strip club antics.  but it IS bachelor party antics.  see, sometimes i do outcall bachelor parties/parties in general.  and these are usually a whole hell of a lot more fun than going into the club, and more lucrative.
so, February 26th, 2011, i went to a bachelor party.  we left at 5 pm, which was mistake numero uno.  it was not my fault.  we were waiting for one girl, Latey McLategirl.  (we were supposed to leave at 3.)
so, after having finally gotten on our way and waited out the ridiculous new orleans mardi gras traffic, we drove, and drove, and drove - to alexandria.

for those who don't live in louisiana, let me help you.

View Larger Map

you'll want to click that "view larger map" up there, to actually see the damn map.  i suck at internet embedding.
anyhow, it's far.

turns out, when we met the party guys in alexandria, it also really wasn't in alexandria, rather in a teeny town (village?) near a lake, also referred to as BFE (BumFuckingEgypt) or BumFuckNowhere, to the enlightened.

now, i don't mean to criticize (much).  yes, the party was held in a trailer, but it was a nice, new trailer.  on the lake!  actually reminded me of my childhood, because i had relatives with a trailer on the lake, and it was FULL OF AWESOME. 

however, the other girls were slightly horrified, evidently because they are sissy cityfied types, and have evidently never been to a damn camp in their lives.  ahem.

we drink (me, bourbon on the rocks, them, many, many shots of patron and possibly other unknown liquors).  we chat with the boys, we get comfortable.  (i say boys here, because 90% of them were younger than me.) 
then we get into our stripper lady clothes and heels.  (random fact:  stripper heels and carpet are a BAD, BAD combination.  involving wipeouts and ankle turning.)

while the other girls were standing around looking a little fucking stupid uncertain, i started sitting on the bachelor and talking to him.  he was a very nice guy, he talked about how awesome his fiancee was, and how much he liked to please women sexually.
i told him he would be a very, very nice husband.  and i'm sure he will be.

however, we weren't there to prop up any egos or chat about weddings - we were there to get nekkid, party, and have lots of cash thrown at us.  which definitely happened.  it was pretty awesome, actually.  we beat mr. bachelor with his belt, stripped his pants off, and laid him on the floor, and danced on top of him, extensively.  of course, we also danced for the other partygoers.

the main difference between strip club parties and private parties, is that at private parties the girls tend to get all the way naked, instead of just down to a g-string.  of course, the guys get proportionally more excited.
still, these guys were very well behaved.  which is a great perk for parties.  they were all very nice, barring one really obnoxious guy who was a neighbor, and not technically invited.  he was eventually forced invited, to leave. 

another difference between clubs and private is that if they pay more, we can put on a toy show.  read:  vibrators and lesbian behavior.  i wish you guys could have seen the instant flocking to the couch, when the other girls started playing.  i about cracked up, but figured it wouldn't be (ahem) professional stripper behavior.  (aside:  exactly what IS "professional stripper behavior?  because i have NO idea.)

i danced for anyone who WASN'T magnetically drawn to the couch, and had quite a bit of fun on my own, involving a Cute Boy who will come into the picture more later.  : ]

eventually, after some of the guys bought private dances, the party wound to an end.

see, here is where i would be getting a ride home, supposedly.

the plan was to drop me in lafayette as they drove back to NOLA, in order to meet The Matt, who would be picking me up, in order to immediately drive to Texas, in order to go hang out with his family.  the plan was to meet sometime between 1:30 and 3 am. 
which was reasonable enough.

the problem?  the woman who drove, was about 8 shots of patron to the wind, and would not let me drive her car.  at all.  and her friend was passed out, in another room:  not exactly a candidate for driving, either.

so, in effect, i was stuck.  in BFE.  outside of alexandria, about an hour or more out of matt's way.

i asked around to see if anyone was sober enough to drive me to lafayette:  Cute Guy was, and offered to take me.  i probably did some embarrassing fist-pumping at this point.  so we had another guy (the bachelor, actually - see, told you he was sweet) drive us to Cute Guy's truck.

whereupon the bachelor drove off, and we discovered that Cute Guy did not have his keys to the truck.
and the bachelor was not answering his phone.  and no one else was, either.

which is why we ended up walking for MILES (for AT LEAST an hour), trying to meet The Matt, as he was driving up to BFE.  the problem was:  nothing in BFE was pulling up on the GPS.  NOTHING.

and our directions consisted of:  "um, we're on a gravel road, middle of nowhere, NO I DON'T KNOW THE GODDAMN ADDRESS IT'S A FUCKING CAMP ALRIGHT!!!" and "Fine, we're walking to the Fucking Fire Station."

at least the weather was nice.  until it started sprinkling.  still, it was reasonably warm, not too hot, and not too cold.  we had a nice conversation.  he was an Awesome Cute Guy.  he obviously did not belong in the middle of BFE, and i encouraged him to get the Fuck Out Of That Town.

anyway, after about an eternity hour or so of walking, we did reach the fire station.  and eventually, we did find matt, after he drove past it and i was screaming, "Slow down, STOP!! we'll come to you, i can see you!!"

of course i could see him.  he was the only car on the road.

this is how i came to be driving our of alexandria at about 4:30 am, February 27th, 2011, with HOURS to go before we got to houston.  5 hours, in fact.

so.  THAT happened.

fortunately, i am now about $600 richer.
it was ALMOST worth it.
okay, maybe it was totally worth it.

but i am going to have to HARDCORE bribe The Matt with something.  something to be decided up on by him.

ohgods, i am scared.
: ]

Monday, February 21, 2011

just had to share this...

one of my favorite authors Neil Gaiman mentioned this song in his blog.  naturally i had to look it up.

and it is just as fantastic as i thought it would be.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

so, i'm not dead...

but i have been hella busy as of late.
i promise not to abandon this blog.   : ]

i don't, however, make any promises to be really entertaining in the next week, as i'll be desperately trying to make rent money.  but then!  i will be back.  oh, yes i will.

Monday, February 7, 2011


well yeah, pretty much.

but what do you mean WAS....

IS, damnit, IS!!!

Friday, February 4, 2011

everything's crazy over here, as usual

i've been over at a new club.
which sucks almost as much as the old club.  but!
but.  they have "motivational" posters.

yeah.  guys, this doesn't work as far as improving my mood goes.
but thanks for the chance to mock you.
my response?


and, for the record??  lap dances are the equivalent of doing 3 - 5 minutes of squats.  in heels.
so it's not "dancing," it's fucking working out.  while avoiding grabby octopushands customers, sometimes.

it's fucking cold and raining down here, which = absolutely no one on bourbon street, which = me making no money.  so suffice to say i do NOT want to go in to work tonight.
i will stave off my bad attitude by copious amounts of marijuana yoga or some shit.

 meanwhile, the pets are going insane by being cooped up.

or maybe we're driving them insane.  it's really hard to tell.

and i put my nose ring back in.  which required these

and about thirty minutes to get from here

to here:  slightly more closed.  although it'll never, ever be straight.
the curse of continuous rings.

did you know there really IS a sing-sing down here?

now you know.  actually i didn't know until i started working on bourbon.  the street from hell, i am telling you.

AND i got a present... with handcuffs.

which surprisingly did not end up with me in jail.

the trackmarks are only for show.  (lab work, they needed blood, and evidently i bruise easily.)
to look tough.
no, but some of the dancers are giving me weird looks now.  good thing the club is dark.
"wanna lap dance to support my heroin habit?"  "uh... no."

 i think the plants are tired of the cold weather too.
and i have new plants.  a rose bush and a bunch of other stuff that looks like dirt b/c we just planted the seeds but is in fact rosemary and lavender and celosia and poppies.  (which i sincerely hope will produce opium...)  : ]

i leave you with this before i have to make a mad dash to work:

i am cornholio.  in a cashmere sweater.
and we all know what that means...


Wednesday, February 2, 2011


matt just suggested i "poke smot" (& worship Satan).

i think y'all can figure out what that means.
anyway, he suggested this to me because i was telling a story, and "talking too fast."

okay, so i'm not going to judge matt's inability to understand basic english (dude...), but i will say that reference is OOOLLLLLLDDD.  really, really old.  (the "poke smot & worship satan" line has been around since senior year of high school at least).
i'm sure one of my exes came up with it.  can't remember which.
people knew me as "satan" BACK IN THE DAY...
: ]

anyway.  my basic question here being:  who is the degenerate, here?
the person who suggests the drug use, or me, who goes
"heh. OKAY!"  and does it??

fire away.