Your Neighborhood Professional Deviant

Welcome to the Go Ahead And Laugh At Me edition of Songs Currently Stuck In My Head. Usually it annoys the fuck out of Me* when people’s initial and/or only response is “that song sucks!”. Insulting Me with your opinion is kinda stab-worthy IMHO. But this time you may giggle, snicker, or lawl at Me, but try not to be rude about it, ok kids? Don’t make Me turn this blog around and go home. Thanks to a good friend’s kids, the following two songs have been Crazy Glued to My gray matter for weeks: Yeah yeah, I know this drops Me into the Lame Teenage Girl category, but I think it’s got a fun beat and the lyrics are adorable. If dudes were that sweet more often, I’d probably be (slightly) less gay**. Whaaaaaaat? The beat is catchy! I can’t scrape it out of My head! I’ve tried! I even used one of those Scrape Ice Off Yer Windshield scraper thingies. That shit just hurt real bad and screwed up My sense of smell for a week. And thanks to a store I frequent, this song has been squatting in My b...

This bit of textual verbosity isn’t really part of any of the usual themes you find here on My blog. Though, I’m sure that, while being your usual deviant selves, you might come across such situations. There are so many annoying sounds out there in the world, and an infinite number of reactions to them. Some people cringe. Some people plug their ears. Some even claw their eyes out. (For the latter, a nice Hug Myself jacket and Thorazine will usually take care of the sounds.) But there are some voices out there that are so horrifying and frightening that there is only one thing a person can do to deal with it properly. Your butthole clenches up, with the might of 350 ton octopi tying a grocery bag into a knot. And they sound as your sphincter prepares for incoming assault is not unlike the vacuum-lock sounds used in sci-fi movies for air-lock doors on spaceships. Some people’s voices are so very, very, bad, that My tightening butthole will sometimes be tightened up in a Grip Of Death t...

So I was heading to Tootsy's to work this past weekend, and there was a lot of condensation on the back windshield of My car. I rummaged through said car, looking for a paper towel or something that would help remove the water, but all I had was My bag of work clothes. So I yanked out a pair of Jenni boy shorts that I rarely wear but always take, and wiped the windshield down. Best chamois ever. Neon pink with neon yellow lace. I'm sure My neighbors were more confused than they usually are. I think I'm gonna market shammies in fun colors now. Teeheehee.

Before I get into this story of WTFery, I want to make it VERY clear that I do NOT in any way dislike people who have weight issues of any kind. I’ve had weight problems, I’ve dated chicks who the "norm" consider to have weight problems. NOW! Onto the fun… I was waiting in line at, of all places, Nature’s Table, for My chow. The very obese lady ahead of Me suddenly, and quite loudly exclaimed; “Ew this is fucking disgusting. It’s more disgusting than being gay!” My head snapped around and My brows shot for the ceiling at such speeds that there were actual sound effects heard by all. This behemoth cunt looks at Me and snears, “What? You got a fuckin problem? What are ya? Queer?” Adding in a lil dot dot dot for dramatic pause: … Soooooooooooooooooooooooo…….. I couldn’t get My brows any further up into My hairline, as just hiding up in My bangs wasn’t good enough for them. “Yes I am queer, actually. Please allow Me to clarify something here, for I do not wish to misconstrue. If ...

Between common sense, pride, and a bit of OCD, I always have some sort of perfume or body spray on. And that’s after I’m scrubbed clean Like A Boss. Hygiene is awesome. Whenever a customer at the bar compliments My scent, I always thank him and reply with “Cause no one likes a stinky stripper!” Duh. It can’t get more Truth than that. Well, ok maybe there is a guy out there with a Stinky Stripper Fetish. But, for the most part, customers appreciate a lack of stank on their adult entertainers. Guys... Dudes... Fellas... Homies... We strippers like a lack of stank on our customers, too. Quid Pro Quo up in this bitch. Ok? For those lacking any sense of Commonly Used Latin, it means This For That. As in, we bathe, so you should too. I don’t know the Latin for “wash your ass” but whatever it is, I want to burn it onto a 2 x 4 and beat some stanky dudes with it. Seriously. Nothing makes a lapdance harder to do than trying not to pass out from your foul odor. We have to be all cute, be all gr...

Some establishments have dress codes. Some are just the choice of the owners, some are common sense. Like you don’t wear a ball gown to work at Arby’s. Like you don’t wear a bikini to a 4 star restaurant. Like you don’t wear jeans to the gym. Speaking of the gym… hey guys? Can you wear your gym clothes to the gym, but not to the titty bar? I know sweats and jogging pants are comfy and shit like that, but seriously? I DON’T WANT TO FEEL YOUR PENIS ON MY THIGH. This blog post is for both types of Gym Clothes Customers. 1st we have the dude who honestly doesn’t know that it’s creepy, gross, and skeevy to get lapdances while wearing gym clothes. There’d be less friction if I stuck a whisk up My cooter. Seriously. Kitchen utensils violating My uterus would be 100 times better than feeling your erection through polyester. Write this shit down because there WILL be a pop quiz. PS: I can’t speak for every chick out there who doesn’t hate the dick, but I personally think that any dude that wea...