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Monthly Archives: September 2010

The Bouncer is easily described in two words: fuckin’ badass. He’s seriously so badass that when I Google’d “huge white security dude”, I got pictures of shark and a dinosaur. Clearly, this means The Bouncer was born when a shark and a dinosaur mated, and he was their glorious and terrifying offspring.

The Bouncer's mom.

The Bouncer's dad.

In reality, he kinda looks like that rapper Fat Joe, except about 150 pounds heavier, white, and doesn’t have a douchey mustache or grill.

Fat Joe does not buy porn at my store. Though that'd be pretty badass.

I’ve mentioned him before- he’s the one who, since he generally comes in towards the end of the night- we ask to stick around after close if someone’s a-creepin’. He sits out menacingly in his truck until they leave, and then gives us a merry wave as he drives off.

The Bouncer is called such because he is one deadly dude. He’s a black belt in several different forms of martial arts, and created and taught a new form. I don’t remember what it’s called, but he and a buddy got it legitimized and had their own dojo.  He was a real bouncer for a strip club nearby, and he didn’t politely ask dudes to leave- he’s the type to pick you up by the scruff of your neck and toss you out on your ass with a swift kick to the ribs for good measure. He is the Chuck Norris of the porn store, except for he doesn’t sell exercise machines with Christie Brinkley on late night tv. And he’s not a crazy Bible thumper.

On angry drunks busting up the strip club: “Back when the strip club opened, dudes would constantly be getting pissed off about shit and go punch up the drywall in the bathrooms. Me and the owner, we got sick of it. We decided to strip the walls down to the concrete and just put wallpaper over it. Many drunks with broken hands later, no more wall-punching!”

On handling dickbags who try to test him: “Every once in a while, we got a dude who was being a doucher, but not quite douchery enough for me to kick him out. That’s when I’d go get the most dominatrixy stripper we had, cos there’s always at least one. I’d point him out to her and ask her to take care of him, and she’d giggle maniacally and prance onstage when her song came on. She’d drag the dude up on stage, use his belt for a leash and lead him around on his hands and knees, then WHIP him with his own belt, and yank his underwear clean out of his pants with her bare hands. Seriously- she would hand him HIS OWN BOXERS. I saw a dude cry once. You don’t wanna fuck around with the scary stripper!”

On working in a mall’s pet store/why he hates kids: “We sold these CRAZY-EXPENSIVE cats, like 700 bucks a pop. They look like Garfield cats, I don’t know what the fuck they’re called. Squishy faces and you want to feed them lasagna. Anyway, we had a policy against kids under 18 coming in without parents, because kids are little shits and I hate them all. It was real early on a Saturday, and this 10 year old walks in. I figure, it’s still slow, so I’ll let it ride as long as he’s quiet, since I can keep an eye on him. He breaks three fucking rules in 30 seconds! He walks in, makes a beeline to the Garfield cage. Opens it up- strike one. PICKS UP A CAT- strike two. PROCEEDS TO SHAKE THE CAT AND DROP IT THREE FEET INTO THE CAGE. Hell. fucking. no. I come up behind him and just flat-out ROAR at him, “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? GO GET YOUR MOTHER AND BRING HER BACK HERE. RIGHT FUCKING NOW.” He nearly shits his pants running out the door. Half hour later, he and his ma walk in. He’s being a perfect fuckin’ angel now, and his ma just looks at me and says hello, which makes me realize- the little bastard didn’t tell her! He just told her he wanted her to come to the store! So I decide to mess with his head. I ask real nice if they need any help, and he gives me this white-faced, wide-eyed look of terror from behind his mom’s back, and she’s all cheery and just looking. He keeps glancing back at me, willing me silently to not tell on him, when I can’t keep myself back. I wait until his mom’s back is turned, then I make the universal “you’re dead meat” motion: glare at him, bare my teeth, and make a throat-slitting motion. He started screaming and crying that he wanted to leave. *The Bouncer cracks up laughing* I got fired three hours later for it, but it was TOTALLY WORTH IT! Little fuckin’ bastard.”

See? Badass.

There’ll be more from The Bouncer in the future- I’ve got more of his stories tucked away for a rainy day.

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If you’ve never heard of Shit My Dad Says, you are missing out. Head to twitter.com/shitmydadsays and educate yourself, then come back here.

They’re making a TV show out of it, which could very easily suck, but I’m excited to see it because William Shatner is playing the dad, and that’s why it’s going to be fantastic.

ANYWHO.

There will now be a new segment here on Lube with That: Shit My Regulars Say! These will be gems from my non-creepy, mostly-sane regulars that I genuinely like having around.

Today’s episode features Lube Cabbie!

Lube Cabbie is a skinny dude in his late 60s that looks like he used to be a biker, bandana on his head, denim jacket over a classic rock t-shirt, scraggly graying beard.  He kinda looks like Willie Nelson if Willie listened to Ozzy and smoked even more pot than he does now.

No, Willie Nelson does not buy lube at my store.

He drives for a local cab company, and he comes in bi-weekly to buy a bottle of lube. How he and his wife go through a FULL bottle every other week, I’m kind of afraid to ask. LC is also damn lucky- he’s won the scratch off lotto twice in the past six months, for about a thousand dollars total.  If our porn shop is a little family, then LC would be grandpa’s wildcard younger brother who huffed too much glue in the 70s and buys you a case of Old Milwaukee for your 17th birthday.

On one-way streets: “My name’s [Lube Cabbie], but my customers call me WrongWay. All these fuckin’ one-way streets around here piss me off! So if it’s later at night, I come up on one of them damn one-ways, and I don’t see no cops, I turn around and say “Hey! How you feel about getting to your destination faster?” Then I book our asses down the wrong way so I can cut through! I ain’t been caught yet! Fuckers.”

On buying his wife a ticket for a cruise with her sister as an anniversary gift: “The wife, she’s all “Oh, honey, I have to get you a gift for our anniversary!”, but I tell her, “You already got me one!” She doesn’t understand, but then I explained it all to her real nice. “You know how you’re gonna leave for that cruise? That’s my present!” *LC cackles merrily and slaps the counter* “Yeeeeeeeep, that pissed her off.”

On his wife calling him every day on aforementioned cruise: “How the hell was I supposed to know she’d cry? If you call me every damn day when you’re supposed to be on vacation, when you ask “Do you miss me?” of COURSE I’m gonna say no! How the hell am I supposed to miss you if you don’t GO AWAY?”

For as much as he rags on his wife, though, he’s really a sweetheart. Regarding his most  recent lotto win:

PSG: “Shit, dude, I should have you buy me lotto tickets!”

LC: “Right? I’m takin’ the wife to her first concert, we’re gonna go see ZZ Top. She loves them, and she’s never been to a big show like that. We’re gonna go out to a nice dinner before, too.”

PSG: “Aww, that’s nice. *hands him his lube* You’re all set, man. Have a good anniversary and don’t forget, if you win the lotto again,  you gotta come hook up your favorite porn shop worker!”

LC: “Thanks, and hell yeah I will! Next time you’re out boozin’ with the other kids around here, call [my cab company] and ask for me, I’ll pick you up if you bring me a brew for the ride!”

A college-aged lesbian couple, a May-December gay couple, and a transvestite were all in the store.

At first, I didn’t realize the girls were a couple.  I thought they were two girls from the nearby university that just went back in session, here to steal shit as a sorority prank or shriek at their own daring when they pick up a dildo.  I kept an eye on them for a few minutes, making sure they weren’t causing trouble. They were talking quietly, walking around nervously looking at stuff, when one of them gave the other a quick kiss on the cheek. They smiled at each other and held hands and browsed for a bit longer before leaving, with a quick wave goodbye to me as they walked out.

The gay couple consisted of a man in his late thirties and another in his early twenties. Generally that large of an age gap is a sign of either prostitution or desperation, more signs to keep an eye on. The two were completely at ease with each other and the store, talking and laughing and browsing. When they brought their purchases to the counter we had a pleasant conversation about the weather and traffic from the college, and they cheerfully wished me a good night as they left.

The transvestite was not a hot mess diva like Mr Ma’am, but an older male looking very put together in a modest blouse, khaki skirt, and a silver-gray wig. Like the young lesbian couple, she and I didn’t actually talk at all. She gave me a terrified look when she walked in, as if I’d kick her out immediately, and she relaxed when all I did was say “Hello”. She walked around idly looking at movies for a while, flipping through a few magazines, all very cautiously, like she would be attacked at any moment. When she left, she smiled and said goodnight.

A lesbian couple, a gay couple, a transvestite, and me, one straight female comfortable in her birth gender and sexuality. We all spent a half hour in the same space, breathing the same air, and…nothing happened.

Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happened during that hour of my shift.

And yet, when others see a lone gay movie on display at the front counter, they frown at it like they’ve been wronged. Like they, personally, have been negatively affected by that movie.  They tell me I shouldn’t have it on display at the counter where everyone can see it, because “it’s wrong,” “it’s not right,” “it’s disgusting.” The bolder ones actually pick up the movie and turn it around in the display so they don’t have to see the front, hiding it from everyone’s view.

People who are different are not going to hide because you’re uncomfortable with it.

People who are different are not wrong, or “not right”, or disgusting.

People who are different are just as normal and ordinary as everyone else.

The rest of the world needs to realize that and get used to it.

***EDIT- One of my readers, the ever-lovely Charley across the pond at SpeakSlow just did a post about Manchester’s Pride Parade, and wrote a bit about LGBT issues at the end.  She’s super adorbs and wise beyond her years. Plus I imagine she has a real bitchin’ accent.  As a heterosexual, I can’t possibly even comprehend what this amazing gal must go through some days,  nor could I write about it. Go read what she feels and get a better idea of the world around you. Plus, Sir Ian McKellan in a rainbow feather boa- BEST THING EVER. Here’s the link:  http://speakslow.org/post/1059966469/manchester-pride-2010