What the fuck is this blog about again?

8 11 2010

I supposed I should change this blog to “What Happens to Strippers If They Grow Up…” or some shit. The name no longer fits since I am no longer a stripper. I can’t help but look in the mirror and see myself getting older. It happens fast strippers! Make all the money you can. When you get by most of your life through manipulation and looks, you start to wonder what’s going to happen when you don’t look like that anymore. It’s going to suck. Your ass is going to get flabby. Your tits start to sag. You get cellulite. No one wants to pay you to take your clothes off anymore.

Anyways, I wanted to post. I was noting yesterday how nothing exciting has happened. Well, I have some material! So the building we live in has three floors and four apartments on each floor. There is one washer and one dryer. I went to wash clothes and put a load in the dryer. I saw there were clothes in there already but the dryer was not running. I took the clothes and moved them into the empty laundry basket downstairs. No problem right? Well about an hour later I go back downstairs to check on my clothes and they are in my basket, and they are still wet. Not damn, wet. So I knew whose clothes I had moved. I went and knocked on their door and told them my clothes weren’t done so they shouldn’t have moved them. He told me his weren’t either. I told him if they aren’t done, he should probably keep an eye on them because there are other people who live in the building. The issue was dropped even though I was really pissed off. To make a long story short, later last night this guy ended up calling the cops on me. Eight cops came and took a report. He is such a little bitch ass cop caller. He wasted their time by calling them and the whole situation was ridiculous. I mean, who does that? He’s the type of little pussy that will antagonize you and then try to get you arrested.

This is the point where I admit that I have a problem. I am crazy. I am currently going to the counselor. I had an appointment today actually. When someone fucks with me, I hear that little voice going, “Aw, hell naw!” What did I want to do? I wanted to throw his clothes on the fucking floor, pour bleach on them, and set them on fire while doing a little devil dance around the burning pile. But I am getting better. I ignored it. I still feel like he thinks I am a pussy and I want to run my car through his living room. I think those thoughts are normal. I don’t feel I would be solving this problem by creating more for myself. See, I’m getting better.

Although I am not a stripper anymore, I have a hard time getting away from the club mentality. Everyone is out to get you. You don’t have any friends. If someone fucks with you, you fuck them up. I have realized I can not go through life operating on these principles so I have chosen to seek professional help. Hey — you have to start somewhere. My counselor says I am doing well because I came through the door knowing what I needed to work on instead of being in denial and blaming everyone else. What the hell do you expect from someone who is raised by a Vietnam vet who tells you to fuck people up if they fuck with you? You get them by themselves so there are no witnesses and teach them a lesson. I was told from the time I was 5 that I didn’t have any fucking friends.  These principles have been ingrained in me and now I would consider to be “not socially well-adjusted”. My temper has gotten so bad that I actually get scared of confrontation because I am afraid of losing control of my emotions. I avoid it. I fear I will end up in jail, paying probation, or worse — with a conviction on my record. That is what I don’t need.

In conclusion, I am not sure what this blog is about anymore. I am still dealing with social behavior issues and a drinking problem that’s improved a lot. So I guess we will continue to ride this train and see where it takes us. We will finally see what happens to strippers when they grow up.


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