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Category Archives: pornophone call

Like I’ve said before, it’s no secret that my mom hates me working at the porn shop. Every time I talk about working there, even a mention in passing, she heaves a heavy sigh and says meaningfully, “You know, I REALLY don’t like you working there.” She and my dad refuse to call it the porn shop…it’s either “that store” or “the adult store”. It doesn’t bug me in the least, parents are parents. I probably wouldn’t want my kid working here, either.

That being said, my other job is considerably less porny. I work at a radio station; it was my major in college and I’m planning on pursuing it as a career. My “day job”, if you will.  Along with DJing and scheduling music and whatnot, I’m also asked to voice commercials sometimes. The production director handed me a script a few days ago, and after reading, I couldn’t WAIT to tell my mom just to get a rise out of her. I sent the following text message that morning:

PSG: Since my pornshop job isn’t giving you enough gray hairs, I figured I should warn you that I’m now the voice of a stripper in a commercial on the radio.


I called her when I got off work a few hours later just to catch up and stuff (yes I call my momma regularly, don’t even hate) and we got around to my text message:

PSG: Oh yeah, so my stripper commercial!

Mom: Yeah, what’s that all about now?

PSG: Well the production director has me voice commercials sometimes, and he got one in for the strip joint 20 minutes from here and asked me to be in it.

Mom: What did you  have to do?

PSG: Oh, you know, seduce local men. *sexy voice* Hey fellas, come out to [strip club] for a good time! Wednesdays are FANTASY NIGHTS!  *back to regular voice* I’m sorry  my life choices horrify you.

Mom: *cracks up laughing*

While my job might make her uncomfortable, at least she can get a laugh out of it sometimes.


The telephone is a magnificent invention, but when you work in a porn shop, most days it just makes you wanna kick Alexander Graham Bell in the nuts.

PSG: “Good evening, thank you for calling [pornshop], how can I help you?”

Drunkenly slurring gruff voice: “Yeah, how much is ya’ll’s cover?”

PSG: “I’m sorry?”

Gruff dude: “Your cover charge, how much is the cover charge?”

PSG: “Sir, I’m sorry, we’re an adult DVD and novelty store, not a strip club.”


The internet, so there’s no chance of breeding.

PSG: “Good evening, thank you for calling [pornshop].”

Irritated woman: “Yes, I bought this vibrator from you, and it stopped working. I’d like to return it.”

PSG: It’s been in your vagoo. FUCK NO. “I’m sorry ma’am, we don’t take returns, it’s store policy.”

Even more irritated Woman: “What?! But it stopped working! While I was using it! You HAVE to take it back!”

PSG: I can’t, because it’s fucking nasty and I don’t want your cooter cooties. “I’m sorry ma’am, but it’s a biohazard, we can’t allow used items in the store.”

Impossibly irritated Woman: “But I’ve washed it and everything!”

Maybe, but Dial won’t wash off the Herp.

PSG: “Hello, thank you for calling [pornshop].”

Nervous Woman: “Um, hello. How much do the, ah, young men charge for, um, lap dances?”

PSG: “I’m sorry, ma’am, we’re not a porn store, we’re an adult DVD and nov-”

Now furious Woman: “FUCK! –*click*”

Hi there, overreaction!


PSG: “Hello, thanks for calling [pornshop].”

Chipper dude: “Hello there, miss! I don’t mean to be rude, but would it be alright if I asked you a personal question?”

PSG: “I…guess so?”

Chipper dude: “Are you single?”

PSG:  “…What?”

Alarmingly chipper Dude: “Yeah, are you single?”

PSG: “Um…I don’t feel comfortable discussing such personal matters with customers…”

Still creepily chipper: “Okay, thanks! You have a good night, dear! –*click*”

…what the fuck.

PSG: “Hi, this is [pornshop].”

Gangsta Thug: “Yo, how much is yo VIP room? Ya know, where the private dances and shit hap-”


All of these phone calls (with the exception of my response to the very last one, ‘cos I got bills to pay) have actually taken place. Seriously. You can’t make this shit up, people.

So it’s a slow-ass night when the phone rings.

PSG: “Good evening, thank you for calling [pornshop].”

Dude: “Yes, I bought a doggy-style blowup doll from you guys and I don’t know how to use it right to get off.”

PSG: …what. “Uh…pretty sure you just blow it up and…have at it?”

Dude: “Yes, I know that, but when I’m playing I can’t position it properly to get off. How do I do this?”

PSG: “…what?”

Dude: “Well, it’s a doggy-style doll, and when I put it on the bed I can’t get at it right to get off. Can you tell me what positions will work better?”

PSG: Um. It’s a doggy-style doll, so…..doggy style? “Well, since I’m a woman, I’ve never used a doll like that-” or, you know, at all. “-but maybe move it off the bed to the couch or something? Other than that I really can’t help you, I’m sorry.”

Dude: “Yeah, I TRIED that already. I need you to tell me what positions are gonna get me off!”

PSG: And I need YOU to realize that I DON’T HAVE A COCK AND THEREFORE CAN’T HELP YOU. “Sir, I’m sorry, but I really don’t know how I can help you.”

Dude: Lets out a HUGE sigh, “Fine. Is there anyone ELSE there who can help me?”

PSG: Oh HELL NAH, you’re not taking that tone with me. Not my fault you’re too stupid to fuck a BLOW-UP DOLL. “Nobody else is available right now, but the manager will be in tomorrow when we open. You can try asking her, but as she’s also a woman, I’m not really sure how much more she can assist you, unfortunately. Maybe try the internet to see if other people had the same problem?”

Dude: “Ugh, nevermind. Bye.”

Good luck, horny dumbass. At least he can’t procreate with it.