Your Neighborhood Professional Deviant

Happy Caturday y'all. Whilst My Twitter has met a reasonable person's limit of cat pics, that's not why I'm here.   Today I'm here to tell you about the brain breaking experience that I was blessed with earlier today.     Browsing the Gates Of Heaven, AKA the cold soda selection at the gas station, My ears picked up on some teenage girls rambling on and on and on... About how amazing Miley Cyrus looked recently. They were molesting one of the girls' phone with their glassy little eyeballs. I suppose My watching them during a Cannot Even moment was obvious, because they stampeded over to My spot in front of carbonated nirvana, and proceeded to force Me to look at above mentioned Miley images. Mayhaps I look youthful enough to care, or mayhaps they assume that anyone equipped with a vagina cares, but they wanted My opinion on Miley's attire choices.   Correction... They wanted Me to echo their opinions on said attire. Alas, this was not meant to be! Th...

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 ...

Or is that Psycho Deviant? I'm never sure... When I arrived at Tootsy's Monday evening for My shift as your resident Awesome Door Wench , I got this overwhelming feeling that it was going to be a Strange Night. Not Monetarily Bad, or Violently Dramatic... Just... Strange. The pre-wenching was rather normal. I sat at the far end of the bar, feeding dollars into the touch screen machine that has claimed My soul. A nice, refreshing Malibu & Pineapple was sipped after My first 2 Diet Cokes of the night. I chattered with Kaylee and Aenea (My River whom I adore as her Inara), and My wifey, Sonyia. I had to break a few hearts by telling newbie customers that no, I wasn't dancing. Heh. The usual. But that feeling nagged at the back of My mind... 8pm rolled around and it was Door Wenching Time!!! *DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN* I stripped off My Playboy tee to reveal My... well, My Playboy bikini top (why ruin a good theme?). I adorned Myself in a rhinestone choker, rhinestone teardrop earr...

Eh, sometimes. On Sundays, because I rarely work, I am all about cheering on My Jets. I totally have My green & white on. I was raised on NFL (amongst other sports) so yeah, right on! Mondays however... not so much. Mondays are My designated Door Wenching nights. Football and strip clubs, in My experience, are strange bedfellows. Either the club is a ghost town and tips suck, or the customers have their eyes glued to the flat screens and not the titties and again... tips suck. Once Upon A Time, at a club I worked at 3 years ago, I had a rather WTF REALLY? experience thanks to NFL + strip club. At this particular club in question, they had a secondary stage that was quite small compared to the main stage. It was a short runway, with a huge flat screen TV at the back of it. Customers could sit at either side of the stage. Nothing really weird about the set up, IMHO... but one time, during a football game which happened to be playing on said television, I was on this mini stage. Ther...

Oh internets, how you make Me make this face so often. All the berjillions of instances of WTFery. At this point I'm surprised more people, Myself included, aren't walking around with this look permanent on our faces. Oh, and Coke Zero is the breakfast of champions.

No. No you can't. It really slays me how often and how quickly "Can I watch?" comes out of mouths in response to the idea of a woman being with another woman. Don't get Me wrong, I dig some hot Girl On Girl action in porn and art and in books. I am an equal opportunity pervert. But seriously guys? If you hit on a chick and she says that she's already committed to a woman and/or she is only into chicks, why would you just blurt out "CAN I WATCH? HYUCK!" ? A lot of you wouldn't do that if the chick's response to your amorous advances was "I am already fully committed to a wonderful dude" . Granted, some of you would. But what your voyeuristic preferences are is not in question here. What really puts a bee in My butt is how easily some of ya'll demand to watch something that, in the case of My personal relationships, is not an open arena sort of thing. I don't sell tickets when it comes to sleeping with the person I am committed ...

A while ago, on MFDS, a rather... verbose submissive male approached Me. He really never shut up, but I chalked that up as enthusiastic... But he talked and talked and talked... and that's all he did. Ugh. It was a verbal wank-fest. Needless to say I haven't talked to him in months, after telling him off for being a huge time waster. But he sure does love to IM Me... Sheesh. You currently appear offline to Mr Dave. Mr Dave: hello, Goddess Mr Dave: How are you today Mr Dave: So, you are being sexy at work? Mr Dave: Hello Mr Dave: Hello, Goddess Mr Dave: Hello Mr Dave: How are you Mr Dave: I havent seen you in a while Mr Dave: How are you Mr Dave: Hey, how are you doing? Mr Dave: I can't stop thinking of being your bitch Mr Dave: Hope your doing ok Mr Dave: How do I please you? Do you have a way I can send you a money pak? Mr Dave: Hello Mr Dave: How are you Mr Dave: I hope your doing good Mr Dave: I will be gone for a bit, but I do hope you a wonderful evening Mr Dave: Do yo...

Alas, by Full Moon I mean that lovely object in the night sky... So a guy came in today, and put a dollar in my tip bucket and said "here, this will help you get that tattoo removed!" ... My response was "Well at least it will cost me less than the procedure you're gonna need to save up for to get a bigger dick." Really... WTF was the point of insulting the woman who is going to LET YOU INTO THE TITTY BAR? Maybe his fetish is cockblocking himself before he even gets into the room with the women he has no chance with. Who knows! But that was just part of the Full Moon Madness that struck us at Tootsy's Cabaret this fine night. 99.99999999999% of the dancers tonight were INSANE. Drunks, lunatics, obsessives, floozies, and morons. I had one girl ask me, FOR FIVE MINUTES STRAIGHT, if she had REALLY paid her house fee. She had. 20 minutes earlier. It would have all been more tolerable if the tips hadn't sucked like Hoover's hooker neice outside of a bowli...

You know you've had a Good Drunk when, the following day, you're trying to figure out a) how a thong got into your purse, and b) who it belongs to.

"Big Boobs = Fat. Okay? Skinny women cannot have big boobs unless they're implants or whatever. Point being; Large breasted women aren't usually popular, as they are usually overweight, take myself for example." Oh dear, sweet, crispy, Christ.