Monthly Archives: September 2012

Bathrooms and Voting Booths

President Obama went on Letterman to get the vote of any ignorant hillbilly with a television, P!nk’s album dropped and nobody cared, Lindsay Lohan ran over ANOTHER pedestrian- and laughed,  and Apple starts taking orders for the new, gayer iPhone… It has been an incredibly busy week. Apart from all that excitement, Showtime’s Weeds has aired its final episode and CBS’s Big Brother (a reality show that showcases sluts and douche-bags– No, not Jersey Shore) aired the finale for their fourteenth season on Wednesday.

The upcoming US election will be (as always) the most important election in recent history. The American people could be saddled with a soft-handed, corporate slime-ball who has been filthy rich from birth and who believes in magical underwear. He also belongs to the ‘religion’ that teaches that American Indians’ skin is colored by a curse from an almighty God who currently is a flesh-and-blood deity living on a planet called Kolab– a planet where all men have many wives and women have an eternity of servitude and rapings, presumably. Of course this is only a worst-case scenario. Should President Obama win the election I’m sure that change we can all believe in will happen at the stroke of midnight after his inauguration; when Jay-Z beats will drown out the cries of anguished conservatives and the streets will flow with sizzurp and gin and juice and we can all get funky again.

To address the title “Bathrooms and Voting Booths”, I’m sure there’s a great joke there- I just can’t get to it. Something to do with taking a shit, I’m sure.

I get out a fair bit when I’m not writing this insightful and incredibly well-written blog and I sometimes work at a nightclub cleaning and doing general bus-boy type-stuff (I normally wouldn’t be into this kind of work but I know the owner and he has a hard time finding reliable people who won’t snort anything during their shift or fuck anyone who would let them do it in the supplies closet.). So I have some amusing accounts of my people-watching, listening and recordings. That being said, I present to you tonight my list of intelligent and witty remarks I’ve heard from the fairer sex while cleaning the (much cleaner and quieter) men’s room or gather supplies from the closet the bartender fucks cougars in.

SHiT I’VE HEARD FROM THE NIGHTCLUB LADIES’ ROOM:

  • “If I don’t take that hit of acid soon I’m gonna be practically sober.” (This quote to be read in a loud, slurring voice while holding the door of the ladies’ room open with one hand and clutching an unlit cigarette in the other.)
  • “Fifteen minutes?”  “Yeah, and then he was just done.”  “Did you say anything to him about it?”  “No, it’s weird because I still want him to think I was a virgin so I just acted like it was normal.”
  • (A rotund young woman exits) “If I ever get fat like that I want you to fucking kill me.”  “Me too, do you think she wants us to kill her? ‘Cuz she’s so fat- she must just want everyone to kill her.”
  • “I wanna see how I’d look in this top with a different bra- Can you hold my tits together, Ashley?”
  • “I’ve never had this much fun, I can’t remember the last time all of us were together!”  “It was when Stephanie took all those pills that time.” “I miss her.”
  • “Do you still have that bottle of water?”  “I drank it.”  “Oh, that’s okay” (She leaves) “That ugly bitch drank all my fucking water.”
  • “I wish I would look that good after three kids” “Bitch, what the fuck did you say about my kids?! You better not be talking shit about me havin’ babies, you fucking whore.”
  • “Gross.”  “What is it, Amber?”  “Aww, I got shit all on my sister’s purse and it won’t come out.”  “Just throw it away, it only has her stuff in it.” (Funny, yes, but it turned out to be actual human shit on the purse- and from what female staff could guess she’d used our sink ‘s faucet, the paper towel dispenser and the edge of  the bathroom counter to get it off- it was smeared everywhere.)

And my favorite…

  • “Fuck you, you fucking cunt, if you don’t hurry the fuck up Imma shit on your face.”

Keepin’ it classy for the ladies.

For those of you who are disappointed because you’d subscribed for the love of my racist and culturally insensitive humor and not my women-bashing and cursing- fear not- I’ll soon mock people of every color, eye-shape and hilarious accent.

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Trailer Park College

Shortly after enrollment, payment and beginning classes, a harsh truth revealed itself to me: I am going to the trailer park of colleges. Amusing to you, the reader, no doubt, but incredibly frustrating for me, the student, who must traverse such a school in the hopes of gaining some meaningful employment down the line. I’m taking the Legal Administrative Specialist program (the name of the programs should have been enough of a red flag, but, you know, hindsight… 20/20). I feel as though this school has sucked every ounce of fun out of me. When I get home I’m so frustrated by their lack of professionalism, efficiency and general knowledge that I can’t bring myself to talk to my family or friends about it– since when I’m done my course I will have to act like they provided me with a solid education so as to get hired at some luxurious, blood-sucking, soulless law firm.

My 5 Favorite Things About My Trailer Park College:

  1. It’s in a mall. No, not that mall, the crappy one. No, the one with the Dollar Store in it.
  2. Janitor washes blood from sidewalk daily.
  3. Quick access to weed and alcohol.
  4. No work!
  5. No learning!

I know that my new posts have been … non-existent… and not very good– my apologies. I will be writing more often and I’ll try to drum up some interesting topics to lampoon.  The phrase “legitimate rape” comes to mind.

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ROYMINOR v.2.0

Obviously I have been away from my blog for far too long; travel, summer with the kids, Pride week events, burying bodies, orgies, beginning school and gay chicken have taken up too much of my time lately. Hopefully these experiences can somehow be channeled into the art of “blogedy” (It’s like blog and com… never mind.) Here we go.

6 Things We All Know About The Girl Who Snorts Coke At Any Party:

  1. No panties.
  2. Purse contains less than $50 in cash and more than $50 in lip-gloss.
  3. Needs a place to stay.
  4. Needs a ride to that place.
  5. Will kiss a girl, and like it– for coke.
  6. Will suck your dick– again, for coke.

Recently, at a house-party after the bar I was approached by two shifty but attractive guys who asked if I was prepared to party. Normally I would decline such an offer, choosing to say I had eaten too many cheez-its or that my footwear or hairdo was inappropriate for partying– but at the moment they asked I’d been enjoying intoxicating beverages for quite some time and my reply sounded more like “Fuck yeah! Let’s go!” than “I should be getting home.” So we walked- nearly across the whole city- to an after hours bar where the staff (of maybe 5 people) and an additional five or six people listened to incredibly loud music, smoked cigarettes and snorted whatever it was they were snorting. The venue seemed like a strip club that had lazy, fully-dressed, coke-snorters in lieu of strippers. The only men that were there were “straight” but kept giving each other looks and then disappearing to the alley behind the bar or the men’s room in pairs. Needless to say I stayed for many hours and remember very little of the experience. Some hours later I awoke at home in my bed, wondering if it had all just been an uninteresting dream, or a boring nightmare brought on by too many reruns of “Weeds” and Queer as Folk… but no.

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