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Category Archives: thank you for your patronage

I know it’s been FOREVER since I posted, but honestly, not much worth writing about has happened. Either that, or weird shit has started to seem commonplace to me.

A sad day has arrived: I’ve finished working at the porn shop. I left because I moved back home with my parents for a bit after graduating college, and then in two months, I’ll be starting a new adventure! You can read all about it and keep up with my shenanigans at this website: http://mandiethemiguk.tumblr.com

Thanks for all the comments and pageviews and laughs while I’ve had this blog up! I really do hope you enjoyed it.

I’ll leave you with one last word of wisdom that I hope you remember, courtesy of Hustler’s creator, Larry Flynt:

Relax…it’s just sex.

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SUP, BITCHES? Sorry I’ve been gone for so long. Shit’s been slow at the store, and the crazies have been keeping it down to a dull roar. Lame.

Halloween, however, was pretty fun. It wasn’t horribly busy, but we did get a few people come in to buy dildos for their costumes. I got two Brett Favres, and one couple going as John and Lorena Bobbitt. Remember them? She chopped his dick off while he slept, and then he did porn after. Classy!

I also got a lot of drunk dudes asking if we had any five-dollar porn deals.  No, we do not. If you’re not willing to pay at least twenty bucks for porn, go back to your mom’s basement and use her credit card once your dial-up internet finally connects.

Halfway through the night, a ‘good ol’ boy’ couple walked in. Husband and wife who look like they live in a trailer and yell about “hatin’ the guvmint’ while waving around a shotgun because you drove by and ‘was eyeballin’ my land’. Those types. They walked around looking at stuff for a while, then came up to make their purchases. The husband noticed the gay movie we have sitting on the counter and sparked the following conversation with me while the wife browsed:

 

Joe Dirt: to his wife, “Heh, I’m surprised Johnny didn’t pick this up yesterday!” to me, “My son, he’s queer as a three-dollar bill. He was in here yesterday, he told us.”

PSG: Awesome, now he’s going to rant about how his son’s an evil sinner. “Oh?”

Joe Dirt: “Yeah, he come home swinging’ that black bag around, all “Pop, look what I got!” One of them bigass dildos, with a suction cup on it. I say to him, “What’s that for, hands-free shower fun?”

PSG: Overshare. Awkward. “Haha, yeah, that’s mostly what those are intended for.”

Joe Dirt: “Yeah, took us awhile to get used to, him being gay. But you know, to each his own, and all that. We love him just the same.”

PSG: Awww! “Wow, he’s lucky to have such open-minded parents!”

Joe Dirt: “Yup, we got over it.” Spots the Viagra knock-offs next to the movie. “Hey! Are these dick pills?”

 

I was quite pleasantly surprised. That’s what I get for judging a book by it’s cover. It’s nice to have your faith in humanity restored every once in a while…

 

…until you go to check that the cock cave is empty for the night, and find a Subway sandwich wrapper with dirty napkins and condom wrappers on it.  “Eat fresh”, my ass.

…a friend, family member, significant other, or acquaintance you can’t help embarrass the shit out of, simply for the sheer joy of it.

Me, I’m the one that misses things flat in front of my face. I’ll grab a freezie pop, hunt for scissors for ten minutes, give up, and mangle it open with my teeth. My one of my best friends/former roommate Adri would wait until I caveman’d that shit open before picking the scissors up from the coffee table in front of me and wordlessly raise an eyebrow.

Then there’s things like puddles. My freshman year of college, I was running late for class on a torrential-downpour of a rainy day. I was darting across my usual route, not quite paying attention, when a large pool of water appeared at the sidewalk. I stopped for a second, shrugged, and charged through it, thinking it was only two inches deep. My legs ended up soaked to my knees. I came home, told Adri about the story and she shook her head at me. When we went out walking later, she stopped short.

Adri: “Don’t you dare tell me THAT was the puddle.”

PSG: “Ummmmm. That wasn’t the puddle, not at all…”

Adri: “ARE YOU SERIOUS? THAT’S A SMALL OCEAN! HOW DID YOU NOT SEE THAT?!”

To this day, she and the rest of my friends make fun of me. When it so much as sprinkles out, they dramatically throw an arm in front of me and shout “LOOK OUT, PSG! IT’S A PUDDLE!”  They’re all dicks and I hate them.

ANYWAY.

So I’m working tonight, and it’s slow as hell.  A couple walks in, scruffy dude in his mid thirties, unamused woman in her mid-late forties. They walk around the store, I offer them help, and they decline.

Scruffy: “Nah, I’m just gonna see how long it takes to embarrass her so bad she makes me sleep on the couch.”

I laugh and continue about my work, listening as Scruffy makes comments to Unamused.

On the Clone-a-Willy Kit: “Hey, want a copy of my boner? It vibrates! I don’t vibrate. But imagine if I did! *shakes his hips* You could have my vibrating dick!”

On porn: “Baby, can we get a movie?”

Unamused: “No. I could make that crap at home before I’d buy it.”

Scruffy, excitedly, “WE CAN MAKE A DIRTY MOVIE?! We can put the camera on the dresser, and it’ll be all sexy and shit!”

Unamused: “NO. I meant it would be cheaper, not that we’re doing it. I’m not recording myself having sex for you. What if you lose it and it gets on the internet?”

Scruffy, pouting, “Awww, come on! I bet SHE’S made a dirty movie! *points in my direction and turns to look at me* Come on, YOU’VE made a dirty movie before, haven’t you?”

PSG: “Nope. But you don’t necessarily have to put your face in it, just angle the camera towards your body instead.”

Scruffy: “BRILLIANT! LETS DO THAT!”

Unamused, now slightly amused at his pouting: “NO. Shut up, dork.”

They  make their way towards the counter and continue browsing. Unamused finds a little mini-book of shots with dirty names, sniggers a little, and starts reading the names out loud, with commentary from Scruffy:

Unamused: “White Mess, ew!”

Scruffy: “SHUT UP IT WAS JUST THE ONE TIME”

Unamused: “Slippery Nipples, haha.”

Scruffy: “I love nipples in my mouth. Oops. I meant Slippery Nipples. MY BAD.”

Unamused: “Screamer?”

Scruffy: “Hey, I’ve got one of those!” *looks pointedly at Unamused*

It takes approximately one second for Scruffy to look over at me and waggle his eyebrows before the two of us start snorting with held-back laughter.

It takes approximately three seconds for Unamused to register what he said, turn beet red, and run out the door, quickly followed by Scruffy whooping with laughter and yelling “HA! I WIN!”

Everybody’s got one.

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.

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.

A cute middle-aged couple walked in. The husband was perfectly at ease, while the wife was clearly embarrassed. They spent around half an hour in the store. Shy Wife was completely mortified when I came up and asked if they needed help, but Loud Hubby was full of questions and these hilarious gems:

Loud Hubby: “Do you  have any wireless vibrators that we can use together? I want to embarrass her in public even more than usual!”

PSG: “Well, we have these wireless vibrating panties over here, they have-”

Loud Hubby: “WOAH, those are awesome! Baby, look! They have this thing that goes up your hoo-ha, and a remote for me! We’ll be all at a fancy party, and you’ll be like, ‘Oh sir, nice to– *buzz buzz* OH GOD!”

Shy Wife: looks completely shocked, shakes her head weakly, and scurries away

Loud Hubby: “How about lube? You got any good flavored ones?”

PSG: “Yup, this Swiss Navy brand here, it’s made by a food manufacturer and not a toy maker, so it tastes like what it’s supposed to and doesn’t have a plasticky taste.”

Loud Hubby: samples the tester Passionberry lube, “Wow! Honey, we should get this, it’ll taste like my dick is a grape tree!”

Shy Wife: Goes bright red, smacks her hand on her forehead like she can’t believe this is happening, scurries away once more.

PSG: While ringing up their purchases, “Will you be  needing any condoms tonight?”

Loud Hubby: Cheerfully, “Oh, you’re so sweet, but no thanks! Got me the snip-snip so I can blow my load in her all I want!”

PSG and Shy Wife: Stare at each other wide-eyed in shock for a minute, then both crack up laughing.

A few minutes later when we composed ourselves, they left hand in hand, Loud Hubby swinging the bag cheerfully and Shy Wife still laughing. I should’ve asked if he has a younger brother, because that was easily the funniest thing that happened all week.

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.

….what.

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-”

Scissor Man: “HER THING! RING IT WITH MY STUFF, HER THING!”

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

Scissor Man: “WHAT? WHY CAN’T YOU RING UP OUR STUFF, I’M BUYING HER THI-”

PSG: “REGISTER’S BROKE, CHILL. TEN MINUTES.”

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.”

….fuck.

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?”

Girl: “OH MY GOD YEAH WHAT THE HELL”

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.

I get a LOT of people asking me how I could possibly enjoy working at a porn store.  They ask to hear about the weirdest customers and then ask, “Good god, how can you stand it there?”

Easy: it’s the customers you DON’T ask about that are the awesome ones.

At least once a shift, I’ll get an open-minded couple walking in whose eyes honestly light up at all the fun new stuff they’re looking to bring into their sex lives, or a pair of friends who, comfortable enough with each other to go into detail about their sex lives, will excitedly discuss the pros and cons of rabbit vibrators. These are the customers who, when I ask “Hi there, can I help you find anything?” will shout “YES!” and spend the next hour or so testing various toys, debating flavored lubes, and having an all-around great time. This is one of my two favorite types of customer.

My other favorite type: the customer that walks in nervously, peeking around the shelves, looking completely clueless. When I ask if they need help, they immediately start to blush and stammer out some semblance of “I’m not really sure what I’m looking for…this is my first time in a porn shop/I’ve never bought a sex toy before/I’m getting married soon and I’m a virgin/the lack of sex is ruining our marriage…what would you recommend?” I delight in helping out these customers, for various reasons.

First off, while I’m sure PLENTY of people would disagree with me for various reasons, most of which I can respect, I can’t stand abstinence-only sex education.  The only things it teaches are that premarital sex is wrong and that those who engage in it are dirty dirty sinners.  Let’s get one thing straight: safe, sane, and consensual sex is NEVER wrong.  It’s one of the most primal instincts humans have, why try and lock that down? Sex is natural and healthy. I can understand those who wait until marriage for religious or personal reasons, and I completely respect that, as long as they can respect and understand that everyone is not the same. What works best for you probably won’t work for someone else.

Stemming off that, I can think of a TON of things that could be taught in sex ed that are completely ignored within abstinence-only education:

What should I expect for my first time? How can I protect myself? What do I do if the condom breaks, or my protection otherwise fails during the act? My period’s late and I’m a virgin, what’s going on? My penis curves a little to the left, what’s wrong? Where can my partner and I get tested for STIs? I want to stay a virgin but still experience pleasure, is that even possible? I’ve never had an orgasm with my partner, what’s wrong with me? And the biggest question of all- I like _____, am I weird?

The answer: NO! Not weird at all, and honestly? There’s probably a whole lot of people who are into that, too. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been asked if we carry movies featuring this or that fetish, answered “Yeah, we have lots actually!” and gotten the relieved response, “Oh thank god, I thought there was something wrong with me.”

A lot people think my job is all about selling tokens to pervs who are just looking to get their jollies off, but it’s honestly not. Probably half of my customers are perfectly normal and just looking for something a little extra, and that’s perfectly fine.

That’s why I love those customers. I love being able to help someone find exactly what they need and see them walk out with a smile on their face and a swing in their step.

There are tons of people, both at the porn store and in my personal life, who have asked me questions about sex, gotten an answer and said “Oh my god, thank you SO. MUCH.  This has been bugging me for a long time and I didn’t know who to ask about it.”

As a result, I’ve made a Formspring account:  http://www.formspring.me/pornshopgirl

You can ask questions anonymously about anything at all, be it stuff you’re interested in regarding the porn shop or a sex ed question.  No judging, no jeering, just a straightforward answer. Ask away!

And just to let you all know, no, this blog isn’t going to change into a constant tirade about sex issues.  Just know that every once in a while, there’ll be something to read that doesn’t focus on creeps and weirdos. Let me know what you think, and what you want to read about!

That being said, check back in a couple days to hear about the biggest creeper who’s ever set foot in the store.

So, WordPress has this fancy little page that shows you how many pageviews and all that you have, along with what links people clicked on to get to your blog, and what search terms they’ve used on Google that led them here.

Most people get here through whatever links I post on all my social networking pages (PS, you should do the same. C’moooon, if you love me you’ll do it!)

Two people, however, got here by way of the following search terms:

“cockrings for sale”

Two sad little cocks will have to go un-ring’d for a while. Sorry, fellas.

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.