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.

Fuck yer gold rings. I'll take a brass pole over the gold rings any day! Back by popular demand, a parody I came up with some years back. I won't write out the WHOLE DAMN SONG, so you just get the list. Feel free to show it around, but please give me some props for the lyrics ;) The 12 Days of Stripmas is © Moi dammit. Don't make Me kick you. 12 strippers stripping (duh) 11 drunkards drinking 10 folded dollars 9 losers groping 8 bitches bitching 7 cheap asses staring 6 inch stilettos FIVE MORE SHOTS 4 purple bruises 3 stolen thongs 2 lines of coke and half my money goes to the bar!

The internet has emboldened some serious asshats. Now, they have the Anonymity Backbone to email/post/IM/PM random women and ask the age old question... "Wanna fuck?" And the resounding "no!" that is generated by millions of women across the globe? I believe that energy is harnessed and used to keep the interwebs going. No, really. So this post us dedicated to all ya'll dudes that think it's clever to ask us chicks such a STUPID question. You wanna fuck? Ok lemme tell ya when that's gonna happen! We're gonna fuck: When My vagina detaches itself from My body, becoming sentient, and decides it has a thing for creepy random dudes. When I give up on the rational fear of STDs. Rational fear never matches My favorite shoes anyway. When My only other options for intercourse partners are the weird homeless dude that looks like Einstein , Dr Cox , and an ostrich (he really exists!) had a collision of reproductive DNA, and a wild pig. (welcome to Florida, fol...

Twitter can lead to odd things, such as this post, which is dedicated to combining the wild world of Pokemon with stripping. Yes. You read that right. LAWL. So.... here's what weirdness insomnia + booze + Twitter + 100 hours of Pokemon Leaf Green can do: If customers were Pokemanz, here's what we'd deal with: Camerupt (the customer we all fear. Get him hot and bothered and he... erupts. Ew.) Combusken (the hot head that is quick to ignite and brawl) Exploud (the big mouth. Always has to talk shit and talk shit loudly) Gastly (total creeper) Grimer (dude needs a shower! AKA not everyone should come to the titty bar directly from work) Kakuna (ew, Harden.) Koffing (you know this guy, with his fatal throat cancer AND the 8lb cigar) Lickitung (the ever popular licker.) Marowak (so boneheaded and thick. Stubborn as hell) Tangela (getting away from his tangle of grabby arms is impossible) What if strippers were Pokemanz? I haven't ma...

Could it be? The finale for the 365 Project? YES! We made it! Everyone should read really good stuff. These are like textbooks, IMHO. Welcome to Tootsy's! Hur hur, the stripper isle at Walmart? Best nappin place ever? A bit of Azn style! Holy fuck where'd the hairs go? Yep, chopped it all off, for the first time in TWENTY years. Giving My poor hairs a fresh start. Om nom nom cherries. RIP Jani Lane . Check dem lil hairs! Keepin the red around a while I think. And there you have it! A year of images, free of charge, not so free of fun.

Trying so hard to get back into a shape I approve of. I approve of this shape lol... You know why I hate doing push ups/crunches? I've had back issues since I was a teenager and just... ow. Can we say OW much? Cause I sure can say OW... and not even the GOOD kind of ow! As a sadomasochist, I have the whole Good Ow/Bad Ow thing down. Down like the high school slut beneath the bleachers. And as said sadomasochist, My variables for Ow are rather plentiful. As a sadist, I am good at giving you an Ow that you like. I am also good at giving you an Ow that you wont like. Either way is good for Me, unless their is jail time involved... hur hur. As a masochist, I have Ows that I enjoy receiving, and Ows that I can SO live without. Back pain from sit ups is definitely a Bad Ow.

More 365 pics for yall! The wind loves to fuck with My hair I tell ya! Do love My Metroid shirt! You should love it too... Rockin some terra cotta and pink shadows Dunno what the fuck My hair was thinking that day, it was rebelling! LOL Man she was perfection... Ya'll should say hi to the ladies!

I often wonder about the future of the stripper shoe. Yep. I dedicate actual brain power to this. What can I say? I love stripper shoes. I love how they look (with some exceptions of course), I love how sexy I feel when wearing them. I love the extra height, the extra curve definition they give Me. They're an important part of My job. An essential part of the "uniform". So where have we gone over the years? The classic pump with the slender, stick heel and the non existent platform was the thing. You didn't need stores specifically for strippers. You could get your heels just about anywhere that sold women's shoes. At some point, the heel gained some height again, and this time the platform was born to keep up with said heel. Clear heels? And platforms? Women were NOT going to wear this to work, if work meant an office, a bank, a store... No no no... these were SPECIFICALLY stripper heels. So now we had to evolve, to change our behavior in order to get the preciou...

everyone should smell the roses once a day... lol An adorable PJ shirt... Lucky Downy! Tis a bit cold in here... Meow! Too short, but I need the booze!

I love the Bambis. No, not the dancers use it as a name (which seems silly, since Bambi means Small Child). I mean the newbies. I call them Bambis because they remind Me of that gangly animated fawn, out on the iced-over pond. Heh. I love to watch them up on stage, whipping out every move they've seen from other dancers, music videos, and late night Cinemax movies. But it's kinda like that game that kids play at camp, Telephone. It starts out clear when the trained pro does it, but by the time it filters through the Bambi brain, and gets to the Bambi hips, legs, etc... it's warped and wrong. So adorable. And sometimes, they get BETTER with practice and time. SOMETIMES. Some are just b eyond hope or help. And then you get to watch them learn the skills of the Stripper. Much like the animated fawn, they have to learn the right words. D... D... DANCE? It's so sweet to watch them grow and learn.... to blossom into real strippers. And it's fun to reflect on My Bambi days...

I'm a fraggle!

Let's take a moment to talk about trash. I don't mean table scraps and junk mail in a Hefty bag... I mean trashy people. It's really hard to hide trash. They don't really make trash camo. But some folks sure do try! You can slap on a gown and pearls but you're still gonna get bombed on Pabst and talk shit about the other beauty queens back stage. They can take you to Le Bernardin and you're still gonna stuff the silverware into your John Deere purse. Clive Christian perfume and a Marc Jacobs dress wont cover up that nickel-plated church key in yer mouth.

Whoa... this email says I can have a bigger dick in a week!

There's a whole lotta pink goin on...

The shampoo and conditioner I use to get the yellow out of My hairs for that lavender/white thing? Yep. Lookit that purrrrrrrrrrrrrple! :D

This blog post is directed to one Rod Stuart, who happens to be a very groovy dude and a friend of Mine. He rocks My socks. No matter how bad My nights are at work, he is always able to cheer Me up. He is the highlight of My time at Tootsy's, and when he isn't there I am very :( (heeheheee there ya go, Rod... yer own blog post!)

Stripping is like Hotel California. There is always the possibility for checking out, but it sticks with you in certain ways. Not that I'm quitting, but even when I'm doing the most mundane things, there it is. Yesterday I spent some much needed time with a friend and her family. It was her, her husband, their 3 kids, his sister, and the sister's kid. Lots of awesomeness. At one point my friend asked Me to play DDR with them. Without even thinking about it, My reply was "Nuh uh, no dancing. It's my day off." Doh! :D

When this shirt is on, I call them the Nom Tits. They will nom yer face off.