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Category Archives: oh god don’t peel off my face

So I walk in one day for shift change and T-Mama is bug-eyed and LOSING HER SHIT. “GIRL. There is a SERIOUS CREEP MOTHERFUCKER in the back and he is freaking me out so bad. SO. BAD.”

Awesome. This is gonna be a FANTASTIC night.

So in hushed tones, in case this creepass is lurking and can hear us, T-Mama starts telling me what’s the what. He’s an older guy, pushing sixty, wearing like four shirts, a floppy sun hat, black gloves (in May, mind you)…….and several pairs of scissors on strings around his neck.


She then goes on to tell me that he’s got the crazyeyes. You know, when people get all shifty-like, and their eyes are rolling around to look at everything at once, occasionally not looking in the same direction, possibly a twitch going on- the crazyeyes. He’s also been randomly shouting at her, “TAPES! I’ve got TAPES! Tapes of the GIRLS! THE GIIIIIRLS!”

So there’s a legit crazy in the store bearing sharp objects. BITCHIN’, YO.

Over the next fifteen minutes, we’ve got one or two other customers wandering around the store, and Scissor Man shuffles out of the cock cave. Holy FUCK, ya’ll. Even if T-Mama hadn’t forewarned me, this motherfucker would have set off the creep-dar LONG before he stepped in the door. I mean, he was throwing off vibes that had me immediately praying “Oh god don’t peel off my face and wear it as a mask oh god oh god”…that kind of creepy.

So Scissor Man’s milling about the store, looking at movies and whatnot, and a woman in her early thirties walks up to the counter with a double-ended dildo and some lube. We’re still in the middle of shift change, because T-Mama’s totals are coming up WAY off, so the register’s still down; we apologize for the delay and tell her we’ll be ready in a minute if she wants to continue browsing. She hangs around the front counter, looking at the various pills and stuff to kill time, when Scissor Man lurks his way next to her.

Scissor Man: “Whatcha got there?”

Dildo Chick: “Um….a dildo.”

Scissor Man: “Let me buy that for you. HEY! PUT HER THING ON MY TAB, I’M PAYING.”

PSG: “Sorry, sir, we’re still working on shift change, so the register is down. It’ll just be a few-”


PSG: “…Sir, I’m sorry, but the register’s down, it’s going to be about ten mi-”



And because,  you know, God’s on vacation that day or just needs something to laugh at while he’s on the shitter, Scissor Man continues in this vein for the next ten minutes, alternating between trying to give me his money and leering at Dildo Chick. Dildo Chick’s getting more and more creeped out, T-Mama’s tweaking because she thinks she’s fifty bucks short, and I’m ready to slap the shit out of him. Great start to the night, great start.

Eventually, T-Mama figures out where she added wrong and does a dance that the drawer’s even, and we’re back on track. I ring up Scissor Man for his movie and Dildo Chick’s dildo, and he walks out the door.

Dildo Chick: “…he’s gonna be waiting out there for me, isn’t he?”

PSG: “Yeah, probably, just hang out around here for five minutes and T-Mama can check if he’s still there when she leaves.”

Dildo Chick: “Thanks. He’s probably hoping to use this with me, but me and my husband and my girlfriend are celebrating my birthday tonight…the only reason I let him pay for it was so I could have fifteen more bucks to spend on booze tonight.”

Well, happy birthday indeed! You go, Dildo Chick!

The three of us shoot the shit for a few minutes while T-Mama gathers her stuff, and in the meantime, a male customer who had quietly observed the ordeal from a safe distance exits, then enters again two seconds later…”

Guy: “I pretended to forget my sunglasses in here to give ya’ll a heads up, he’s still out there actin’ a shady motherfucker.”


They stall for another couple minutes, then T-Mama gets impatient, since she’s gotta get to her kids. She grabs a boxcutter and stomps out the front stoop, mumbling something about “stabbin’ that fucker right in his crazyass fuckin’ eyeballs” as she yanks the door open. She closes the boxcutter and tosses it back at me while simultaneously running out the door, yelling “Yeah, that shifty bastard ran right back in his car when saw me! Girl, get your dildo and jump in your car while you got the chance!”

Dildo Girl quickly scampered out the door, and the two left, so I went about the rest of my business. Twenty minutes later, a college-age couple walks in, looking in the direction that T-Mama glared at earlier, and walked in looking baffled.

PSG: “Shady ass old dude wandering over there still?”


They’re in the store for about ten minutes, and when they leave I ask  them to signal me if he’s still there or not. Thankfully, they shook their heads and gave me a thumbs-up, or else I’d have called the fuzz on that motherfucker.

I lucked out and nothing else creepy happened that night, but ever since, I keep that boxcutter sharp and handy. Never know when you’re gonna have to stab some crazyass fuckin’ eyeballs.


It’s inevitable that if you’re working at a porn store, dudes are going to try and pick you up. I’m no Megan Fox by any means, but I wasn’t beaten to death with the ugly stick either, so it’s happened before. Plus, these dudes have no standards, so lucky ole’ me gets to be the object of their horny affections. On this special night, not just one, but TWO dudes stepped up to the challenge of Hitting on the Girl Who Sells You Your Porn.

Here’s the thing- I don’t mind harmless flirting. I’m the kind of gal who will smile and giggle at a tree stump if it’s got something clever to say and wiggles its eyebrows at me suggestively, and if I’ve had a couple drinks, prepare yourself, because I’m extra huggable and you’re bound to get smooched (on the cheek, you pervs.) That being said, even at the porn store, if you’re nonthreatening, clearly not looking for anything  beyond simple conversation, and appear to have bathed within the last month, I’ll play along. Hey, I’m there for 7 and a half hours and I’ve likely already read all the magazines we’ve got.

These two dudes, however, were none of those things.

The first guy walks in near the beginning of my shift. Since it’s slow, I’m reading one of those “101 Sex Tips for Couples” books we’ve got. Like I said, I get bored easily and it’s the only reading material we’ve got.  Homeslice walks in, fairly attractive, but not nearly attractive enough to back up the swagger he’s trying to pull off.  Leans on the counter, does the head-tilt, eyebrow-waggle thing, and says, “Giiiiiiirrrrl…how YOU doin’?”

Now, my dad is a HUGE “Friends” fan, so it’s all that was ever on TV in our house and I’ve probably seen every single episode. As a result, when Homeslice thought he was pulling off THIS:

"Damn girl. You so fine. I'ma tip my fedora and seduce you with my seductive seducing voice."

…all I could see was THIS:


So clearly he’s already got a lot going for him. I try to hold back a snort and say, “Not much. Slow night,” and go back to my Sex Tips book. One of my regulars then comes in and asks for tokens, so I mark my page with a piece of receipt tape and go ring him up.  I come back, my makeshift bookmark is on the counter, and Joey Homeslice is thumbing through the book.

Okay, first, I don’t care WHO you are, you lose my page and I will kick you in the junk so hard it pops out your ass.  Second, um, excuse me? Did your mother teach you that it was cool to just take other people’s property without asking? Awesome. Finally, come ON, you guys…it’s a sex tips book, of COURSE he’s going to take it the wrong way:

Joey Homeslice: “Damn, girl, are these all the fine things you gonna do to me?”

PSG (Wow, you’re already assuming I’m even REMOTELY interested enough to sleep with you. You’s a bold kid, Homeslice, a bold kid.) : “No. It’s a store book. Just reading because I’m bored.”

Joey Homeslice, after tossing my book on the counter, then picks up a free catalogue we give to customers: “What’s this?”

PSG (YOU JUST LOST MY PAGE, YOU DOUCHE, I HATE YOU SO HARD): “It’s a catalogue. It’s free, you can take one if you want.”

Joey Homeslice, after flipping a page and seeing an ad for a gay-oriented toy company: “SHIT, GIRL, I AIN’T INTO THAT. You think I’m GAY? ‘COS I AIN’T GAY.”

PSG (Awesome,  you’re a homophobe too. You just keep getting increasingly more attractive…to my foot. Who would like to make an acquaintance with your ass.): “Dude. It’s just a magazine. There’s straight stuff in there too, chill.”

Homeslice: “Sorry girl, I ain’t into toys for just me. But I gotta say, I’d buy you any one of these toys up in here if you-“

PSG (Aw, HELLLLLLL NAH): “Nope. Not happening.”

And that’s where the conversation ended, because we got busy and I studiously ignored him until he slunk out.  Homies, take note: if you act a fool, pornshopgirl will shut down your swagger fosho.

So, a couple hours go by with no incidents, and I finally finished my book. (Which, by the way, was a stupid one; it was all hippie shit about ‘getting in touch with your partner’s soul and knowing each other’s inner being‘. Nothing remotely useful like a diagram of “Hit this button for maximum overdrive”. Lame.) I’m at the front counter, organizing the DVDs, when Sk8r Vamp walks in. Oh, dear god. This guy’s probably in his late 20s or early 30s, dressed like a thirteen-year-old punk- spiked hair, baggyass pants full of chains, Discman (no shit, a Discman) blaring loud enough to hurt my ears, CHECK.  He’s come into the store before and was perfectly polite, so I gave him a nod and went back to organizing. He walks around browsing for a bit, then comes up and settles near the counter.  He pulls out his headphones and starts his attempt:

Sk8r Vamp: “Have you heard of Bullet for My Valentine? That’s who I was listening to, they’re pretty good.”

PSG: “Yeah, they’re alright.”

Sk8r Vamp: “You know that movie Queen of the Damned, the vampire one? I love that soundtrack. When I listen to it I get a little vampire-like, if you know what I mean. In bed.”

Oh, Christ, we’ve got ourselves a Twilight moron. Another visual comparison? Why yes, I do have one at the ready. Here’s what this overgrown punkass sees himself as:

"Gaze deep into my sparkly sixpack, for it holds the secret of life."

Aaaaaaand here’s what I saw:

"My fangs! My fangs fell out because they're made of plastic! WOE UNTO THE WORLD"

Super.  I have no words for this, so I just nod weakly and return to the movies, hoping he’ll just go away. They never go away.

Sk8r Vamp: “So, have you heard of XYZ (a bar in town)? Have  you been there?”

PSG: “Yup.”

Sk8r Vamp: “Well, I’m real close friends with the owner-” (Sure you are, slick.) “-and he gave me this super exclusive-” (Not likely.) “-once in a lifetime-” (Doubtful.) “-card, it lets me and a guest get in with no cover charge-” (There’s never a cover charge there, dumbass. Nice try.) “-just because. Once in a lifetime chance, you know. Super exclusive.”

PSG, at this point mindlessly shifting around DVD cases just to avoid a legit conversation: “Nice.”

Sk8r Vamp: “So I’m guessing you probably (makes air-quotes) “have a boyfriend”, right?”

PSG, though she has no male companion: “Yup. Sorry.”

Sk8r Vamp: “What you sounding all depressed like that for? Is he not good to you?”

PSG (It’s because I’m talking to you, moron.): “No, he’s awesome. I’m just distracted, you see, ‘cos I’m trying to get some work done, here.”

Sk8r Vamp: “Cos you know, when I see a beautiful woman… know?”

PSG (If you try to show me your boner I’m going to kick you in it): “Uh, sure.”

Thankfully after a few minutes of awkward silence, he announced he had some “business to take care of” and left.

I’ll be sleeping with a stake under my pillow. Also a tazer.