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Category Archives: put away your boner before i kick you in it

You probably think that the reason I get a bunch of creepers is because I work mostly nights. You silly, silly goose. You are sorely mistaken.

I work 4 shifts a week, and three of them are night. Lately, I’ve been exclusively at night while I was taking a few summer courses. Now that they’re finished, I picked up my one midday shift again, from 1p-5p. I can confidently say that the creepers are just as prevalent in the daytime as they are at night.

Take yesterday, for instance. Just after Neoboss left for the day, around 2, a older dude walks in. Heavyset, suspenders, big mustache, the whole nine yards, probably between 55-60. He had a plastic bag with some groceries in it (a usual occurrence, since we’re right next door to a grocery store) and left it up near the counter while he browsed through magazines. He would flip through a couple pages, glance at me, then read a few more pages, then another glance, and continued on in this manner for a good fifteen minutes. This isn’t uncommon; lots of dudes check to see if I’m watching them or something, since they all think I’m judging them for perusing this month’s issue of Beaver Hunt. Most of the time, I’m not, and I leave them be while they read to do my own thing.

Older Dude finishes browsing, comes up to collect his grocery bag, and the following happens:

Older Dude: glancing between my boobs and face. “You wouldn’t happen to be in any of these here magazines, now, would ya?”

PSG: Hey guy, the face is up here. “Nope.”

Older Dude, now leering: “Well, that’s a durn shame.”

As he walked out, I realized all that glancing was probably him filing me away in his Spank Bank. BRB, VOMITING.

Take now one customer I call Twitchy MacGoogle. He’s real pale with that flat, no-color hair, and super twitchy. Twitch walks in for the first time one afternoon, twitching merrily away and looking through the porn. He comes up and asks about sex video games. This also is not uncommon; there used to be a pretty popular sex video game, similar in operation to The Sims. Only sexy, apparently. We don’t carry it, but we do have a handful of people who ask about it.

Twitchy MacGoogle: “Do you have, um, sex games? You know, for Playstation?”

PSG: “Nope, sorry, just videos. You could try looking on the internet, though.”

Twitchy MacGoogle: “What about, um, for the computer? Any computer games?”

PSG: Dude, I just said, only videos. Way to use  your ears. “No sir, I’m sorry, we don’t carry video games of any kind. You’d probably have to look online for that sort of thing.”

Twitchy MacGoogle: “Oh. *long pause while he twitches away and processes this* Well, um, what website can I order those from?”

PSG: “I’m not really sure. Try Googling it, that would be your best bet.”

Twitchy MacGoogle: “Try what? What website?”

PSG: I talk kinda fast and sometimes stumble over my words, so I repeat myself clearly. “You know, Google. Try searching on there for sex games.”

Twitchy MacGoogle: Slowly and twitchily, like the word is foreign to him. “Goo…..gle? What’s that?”

PSG: ….What. “Google.com? The search engine?”

Twitchy MacGoogle: Blinks and twitches. No response.

PSG: You have GOT to be kidding me. “It’s a search website.  You go to google.com and type in what you’re looking for, and it’ll find pages that are about that subject.”

Twitchy MacGoogle: “Wow, that’s awesome! Can you write that down for me so I remember it?”

He then proceeded to study that slip of paper as intently as a surgeon performing a brain transplant. Then he walked around in circles, talking to himself for ten minutes. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but every once in a while he’d look at the paper again, trying to memorize along with his ramblings.

First world porn problems. They exist.

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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:

"I WANT GIRLS ON BREAD!"

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…..you 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.