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Monthly Archives: August 2010

Creepy looking dude: “Hi, I need a lube that won’t burn if it gets in my eyes.”


If your face is so far in somebody’s junk that you are literally rubbing your eyeballs in lube, YOU’VE GONE TOO FAR.


Three words for you. The most terrifying combination of words I’ve had to use in this blog so far:

Crossdressing trucker’s escort.


The Bouncer, my friend Momo, and Momo’s brother were all in the store. The Bouncer was returning some movies and browsing for more, and he always ends up staying for like a half hour longer, minimum, to just hang out. He is one of the few customers I don’t mind doing this, as he’s one of the sane and one of my favorites, much like Latin Queen. Momo and MomoBro, I’ve known for probably just short of a decade, and they were in town for some reason or another and stopped by to visit. Momo’s met The Bouncer several times before, as she lived with me for about a month and used to visit often.

So it’s about 10:30, and they’re all hanging around the front desk as I’m going about my work. I see someone approaching the front door and, seeing my eyes widen in terror, the others all glance over and look equally terrified.  In walks a skinny man in his fifties. In a tank top and waaaaay too short miniskirt. With a really bad wig and poorly applied makeup. Oh dear god.

Now, let me make it clear- whatever your gender/sex preference is, as long as it’s safe, sane, and consensual, that’s a-okay by me. If you’re a Hell’s Angel and wearing lacy women’s underpants is what tickles your pickle, go for it.  but in this case? This is what we’re looking at here:

oh dear god

Looks like Victoria's having a little trouble keeping her secrets.

I don’t care what your sexual preferences are. If you’re transgender, genderqueer, or a third gender, high five! Seriously, one of my favorite things in the world is people who are comfortable enough to publicly define and be proud of their sexuality.  But if you look like you did your makeup in the dark and your wig looks like you shaved a small dog and taped it to your head, I reserve the right to laugh my ass off at you. Especially if you act like Mr Ma’am here.

So Mr Ma’am flounces in, shortly followed by Trucker Dude. Trucker Dude heads up to the counter while Mr Ma’am sashays immediately into the arcade. Big no-no here. Store policy is that you need to buy tokens before you head back. I immediately lean over the counter and say loudly, “Excuse me! You need to come out and buy tokens before going back.” I hear silence. Oh hell no, bitch, I KNOW you heard me.

I walk over to the doorway and say it again louder. Still nothing. I brace myself, hold my breath and step in to the back room. “EXCUSE ME. THE LAST PERSON WHO WALKED IN HERE, YOU NEED TO COME OUT AND BUY TOKENS.” Mr Ma’am peers out from a booth, all “Who, me?” , heaves a big sigh and follows me out. Then the following exchange happens:

PSG: “Thanks. As the sign says on the front desk, you have to buy the minimum tokens before you go in the back.”

Mr Ma’am: accompanied with a hair flip and a flourish, “OBVIOUSLY you’re new here-” Oh hell no. Don’t you even try to pull that shit. “-because this trucker here is going to buy my tokens for me.”

I look over at Trucker Dude with eyebrows raised, as it didn’t appear they were together when they walked in. He nods and hands me six dollars.

PSG: “That’s fine, but regardless, you need to have purchased tokens in your hand before you go back. Store policy.”

Mr Ma’am rolls her eyes and sashays back again, Trucker Dude in tow and tokens in hand. The Bouncer, Momo, and MomoBro are all sitting there stunned. The Bouncer, since he’s seen a lot of stuff like this before, recovers first with probably the best summary: “Welp, just another night at the circus, I guess.”

Fifteen minutes later, Mr Ma’am and Trucker Dude walk out and start wandering the store. While Trucker Dude peruses the magazines, Mr Ma’am grabs a bottle of warming lube and heads up to the counter.

Mr Ma’am: cheerfully now that she’s clearly gotten her rocks off, “So what’s your pretty lil’ redhead name?”

PSG: Fantastic. “It’s pornshopgirl. What’s yours?”

Mr Ma’am: “Well hello! I just love that song!” My real name is one of those that’s featured in a popular song from back in the day. She started singing. Badly. “I’m Jack, but when I’m dressed like this I go by Jill. Here, I’ll let you see what I look like!” Begins to take off wig.

PSG: That’s really not necessa- okay, that’s terrifying. This isn’t awkward, not at all. “Ah, thanks?”

Mr Ma’am: resettles wig, perches head on hand like we’re BFFs at a slumber party. “So when did you start working here? I’ve never seen you. I normally come in during the day when Neoboss is here, though.”

PSG: “I’ve been here a couple months.”

Mr Ma’am: “That’s nice! Say, do you know anybody named Lauren that comes here?”

PSG: “Nope, sorry.”

Mr Ma’am: “Darn! I’ve got an ad in a back of the men’s magazines here-” Gag. Did not need to know that. “-and somebody named Lauren keeps calling and saying she saw my ad here. Oh well. When my truckers are in town, I like to bring them by here since it’s so nice.” Turns to Trucker Dude. “Isn’t it nice, sweetie?”

Trucker Dude: Nods and goes back to his magazine. Apparently Trucker Dude doesn’t like to talk.

Mr Ma’am: “Well, we better get going! Nice meeting you honey, see you soon!”

And she flounces out the door again, Trucker Dude following.

Welp. Just another day at the circus, I guess.

Late Friday night, an old dude walks in. Big guy, suspenders, pushing 60. He walks over to the DVDs and pokes around for a half hour or so when I heard a loud BANG. Next thing I know, he’s standing front of me with his hand covered in blood.

Edward Bloodyhands: “Sorry, I bumped into your DVD rack over there. Do you have a bandaid?”

PSG: HOLY FUCK HOW DOES HE HAVE MORE THAN A STUMP WITH ALL THAT BLOOD “Yup, here ya go. Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?”

Eddie BH: cheerfully, “Nope! I’m on blood thinners, it looks a lot worse than it is.”

PSG: Awesome, so you’re just gonna shrivel up and die here. Great. “Okay. Let me unlock the bathroom for you so you can clean up.”

Eddie BH: taking out a handkerchief, “Oh, no thanks, I’m fine. This’ll do.”

PSG: Don’t you walk around my store with bloody hands, old man. “Are you sure? That’s an awful lot of blood…”

Eddie BH: walking away. with bloody hands. motherfucker. “No. I’m fine.”

He walks off, and as I watch from the counter, he shoves the bloody handkerchief in his pocket. His hand, though bandaged, is still covered in blood. He proceeds to PICK UP A MOVIE. WITH HIS BLOODY HAND.

Eddie BH: “Can I preview this, please?” Sets the now blood-spotted DVD case on the counter.

PSG: Oh god so much blood oh god “Okay, you NEED to go wash your hands off, I CAN. NOT. have you walking around my store touching stuff with blood on your hands.”

Eddie BH: Looks at me bemusedly, “But it’s dry. It’s fine!”

PSG: You cut yourself A MINUTE AGO. It can’t already be dry. Plus dry blood still has the AIDS in it. “I don’t care. Wash your hands, or leave.”

Eddie BH: Sighs heavily, “Fiiine.”

I walk him to the bathroom and unlock it for him, then head back to the counter and start scrubbin’ that shit like Aladdin rubbing the lamp. Only this lamp is covered in some old dude’s blood, and rather than excitedly waiting for my wishes, I’m trying not to vom.

I’ve usually got a pretty strong stomach. If someone I know is bleeding, I can help them get the sink or hospital and be fine. I watched the scene in Zombie Strippers! where a dude gets his dick chomped off and I laughed merrily (oh, how I laughed. Fuckin’ love that movie.) It’s the fact that I don’t KNOW this dude and he’s tromping around the store putting his possible diseases on my shit. There are at least three patrons I know of who are at least HIV-positive. Since they all hook up with clean people regularly, I have NO idea how many of our customers might have it. We go through hand sanitizer like a motherfuck at that store.

So I’m frantically scrubbing harder than Monk on this counter when Edward Bloodyhands walks out, with hands still wet, dripping water everywhere.  He sees me scrubbing this mother down and honest to god GLARES at me. Oh HELLLLL nah. Don’t you be givin’ me the eye because YOU bled all over the damn place. I am NOT going to let some 28 Days Later shit happen up in here.

PSG: “Thanks. That’ll be six bucks even.”

Eddie BH: Hands me the money, then shoves his hand near my face. Snidely, “All clean, see?”

Whatever, dude. Go pull your pud with your bloody herp hands.  We’ll douse your booth with bleach and set it on fire after you leave.