Bleeding Head Good

May. 14th, 2004

11:18 am - I Showered with a Cock-a-roach!

This morning I took a shower with a cock-a-roach. I got in the shower this morning and the little fucker was running around in the shower stall, perhaps unable to climb the slick tile surface to freedom. I didn't notice it was there until the water was already running. I did what any sane person would do and aimed the water jets from the shower head at it in the hopes of quickly sending it to a watery grave. Turns out cock-a-roaches are more water-resistant than most insects and arachnids I typically encounter in the shower. I collected a little soapy water in my hands and dropped it on my enemy to help hasten his demise (soap destroys water tension, helping water to seep into the pores of an insect's exoskeleton through which it breathes, effectively drowning it.) After a while it finally gave up the ghost, stopped struggling, and went on its merry way to cock-a-roach heaven. Now there's a cock-a-roach corpse in my shower. I should probably do something about that, huh?

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Apr. 19th, 2004

11:57 am - My coffee grinder tried to kill me

It's true - my coffee grinder tried to kill me the other day. It was late, I was heading off to bed, but first I had to set up the coffee maker for the morning. I have a coffee grinder like this one. I had already pushed the button to grind a pre-set amount of coffee. Pressing the button turns on the grinder for a certain amount of time, after which it automatically shuts off. As I was removing the container I accidentally hit the button again. This is when I discovered that burr-type coffee grinders are capable of throwing coffee grounds tremendous distances if there's nothing in front of their output hole. I got the container back in front of the output hole in time to catch most of the grounds, but the damage was done. Coffee grounds went everywhere - the floor, the countertops, the stove... It was a mess. I was too tired to clean it up so I decided to leave it and deal with it the next day.

Now, here's where my memory gets fuzzy. I was tired, see, and I don't remember what I was doing or why - I think I might have been trying to clean excess grounds out of the coffee maker's output hole. But whatever it was, I hit the button again. Once again, coffee began spewing forth from the hellmouth of the coffee grinder. This time I quickly covered the output hole with my thumb, but that caused the coffee to back up, putting strain on the motor, and I was afraid I was going to burn it out, so I let it go. Once again, coffee managed to get everywhere before I could get the container back in place. At this point I surrendered, went out to the garage, got the hose for the central vac system and just cleaned the mess up. That day, the coffee maker had won.

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Apr. 18th, 2004

11:21 pm - More strip club fun

As promised, I'll now tell the story of last night's strip club experience. I went to Lollipops here in Pasco County, FL. It's probably the nicest of the clubs in the immediate area. I'd been there once before and liked it. Last night included a couple of firsts for me - the first time I ever went to a strip club alone and the first time I ever got a lap dance. But we'll get to that. I saw some mighty strange and interesting things last night and I want to tell you, the reader, all about them.

First, there was the woman sitting next to me. We were on Perverts' Row (the row of seats surrounding the stage). She was with a guy who appeared to be her boyfriend. Standard practice is to tip the dancers $1 when they come around to you. This girl was tipping anywhere from $5 to $30. I have no idea what was up with that. And she never smiled once. Most women at strip clubs (and this particular club seems to attract a disproportionate share of women compared to others I've been in) enjoy the attention of the dancers, or at least if they don't, they stay away from the stage. I can't for the life of me figure out what was going on. I wondered if it wasn't some covert way of making a payment for something illegal, like drugs or sex. It was just weird.

Across the stage from me, on Pervert Row West, were three couples. Two of them were clearly either swingers or polyamorous, because they were all over each other and they kept swapping people around. The men often concentrated their attentions on one woman at a time, and occasionally the women would kiss passionately. They were at it all night and it sure was something to see. The woman getting most of the attention was probably in her late 40's but fairly attractive. She was getting it from two men, one woman and occasionally from the dancers. She was having a great time.

At one point a dancer asked me what I was looking at, 'cause I wasn't looking at her. I told her those couples over there were distracting. She misunderstood me and said, "Oh, that girl over there? Great tits. I was grabbing them earlier. I'll grab 'em again, don't you worry, I'll give you a good show." She was referring to a girl across the way that may or may not have been with the other two couples. She appeared to be with the guy next to her - they were the "third couple" I mentioned above. Eventually the dancer gets over to the other side and gets around to the girl she'd been talking about. She leans over and starts gettin' all hot and heavy with her, and at one point this girl's shirt and bra come up and there they are, in all their glory! I never expected to see a customer's boobs in a strip club. But hey, they were really nice...

I got my first ever lap dance last night. One of the dancers - Star was her "name" - came over and sat down next to me. I knew what she wanted, but she apparently felt she had to warm me up first. I don't find a lot of the ultra-skinny, blonde-haired stripper types to be that attractive, but this girl was very cute - dark brown hair, adorable face, bubbly and friendly. She launched into this story about how she didn't really work at the club any more, but she had a couple days off from her real job because she'd been stung by a bee and had an allergic reaction, and something about worker's comp said she couldn't work there for 48 hours. So she came back to the club to make a few extra dollars for a couple days. She finally gets around to asking me if I want a private dance and I figure, hey, why not? A story like that is worth the price of a dance, and besides, I'll get to see her naked (I had missed her turn on the stage). She takes me back to the room where they give the private dances and I tell her I've never had one before. She's surprised, but explains the rules. It's $20 per song, full contact - I can touch anything that's not covered (and all she wears is a tiny G-string). Then she asks, "You don't work for the Sheriff's Department, do you?" Hahahah... No, sweetie, I don't! I can tell I'm in for it now. So she gets down to business - takes off her tight little dress and starts goin' at it. At this point I discover she has two of the nicest breasts I've ever seen (and completely natural, too). I'm liking it, but I'm not getting super aroused or anything. She's obviously just going through the motions and any physical response I'm experiencing (which was not as much as you might expect) is more because of her scent and her warm body against mine than because of all the thrusting and gyrating she's doing. Everything's going along just fine - I'm running my fingertips over her body and generally enjoying my first-ever lap dance, when she decides to get down between my legs. OK, I think, she's going to do the simulated-blowjob thing, I'm sure many men love it. But it's more than that - she actually bites my unit through my pants! I laugh a bit and say, "Careful, you're gonna hurt me!" She tells me to stop being such a baby. Heh... The song ends, she asks me if I want another dance. I'd better not - at $20 a song it adds up quickly. I pay her and return to my seat on Perverts' Row.

The final bit of entertainment for the night came when a guy who was there for his bachelor party got dragged up on stage. They stuck him in a chair by the big brass pole and sent three dancers to entertain him. Star, the one who gave me my lap dance, was one of them. Sure enough, she bit his unit, too. I saw him flinch! Heh... Poor guy. They got his shirt off and his pants undone and gave him a little lovin' for a bit. At one point they got him standing up, pulled his pants down (left his underwear up, though) and tried to get him to dance for one of the girls. I don't know how they expected him to do it with his pants around his ankles, though. He just sorta stood there. Star playfully poked at his tool a couple times through his underwear and one of the girls pulled down the back of his underwear. He wasn't too happy, as his bare ass was now facing the crowd. Heh... "HEY!!" he shouted. I think he loved the whole experience, though, and he was a good sport about it. Soon enough, he'll be married and sex will be a thing of the past.

All this fun and adventure was packed into 2-3 hours, tops. I think I'll be going back soon.

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10:49 pm - Got Wang?

I'm starting to realize that strip clubs can be hotbeds of humorous situations. I don't spend a lot of time at strip clubs - until last night I had never gone to one alone, and I've only ever been to 4 clubs, a total of maybe 20 times. But this isn't about last night - I'll get to that later. This is a story about wang, and pretty naked girls who desperately need a clue.

I used to go to a club called Club Castaway in Massachusetts with my friend Mike. He's a regular there and several of the girls know him. We went there together on a semi-regular basis. This one dancer, Corey, she's beautiful (not all the girls at Club Castaway are, trust me) but she seems to have a problem with me, usually relating to my T-shirts.

The first time I ever went to Castaway and met Corey, I was wearing a T-shirt that said, "No, I will not fix your computer." I'm a computer geek, see, and... Oh, never mind. Anyway, I'm sitting there on Pervert's Row (right up by the stage) and she comes over to collect my dollar and give me a little dance. She sees my shirt and asks me why I'm wearing it. I say, "Because I'm a computer geek." She gives me a disgusted look and asks, "Why would anyone admit that?" I reply, "It's something I'm proud of!" Again with the look. Then she seems to remember that she makes her money from guys like me and kicks back into friendly-stripper mode, running her hands over her body and asking, "I know nothing about computers. [Really? I'm surprised!] Will you fix my computer?" "No," I reply. Mike got a kick out of that.

Another time Mike and I were in Castaway Corey started in on my cigarettes. I was smoking cloves at the time. "Something smells like incense!" She looks at me and says, "You can't smoke those in here." "Why not?" "Well, cigars aren't allowed in here and those are like cigars." Well, no, they're nothing like cigars at all. I ignored her and continued to smoke.

My favorite Corey moment was another T-shirt-related one, though. This time I was wearing my "Got Wang?" T-shirt from Penny Arcade. It's got an arrow pointing down, in case you don't quite get the concept. But this wasn't enough for Corey! Oh, lord no! I'm once again on Pervert's Row and she shows up for my dollar. She reads the shirt and asks, dead seriously, "Wang? What's a wang?" At first I think she's kidding and laugh. I realize she's not. "It's a penis," I say. "What is that, Chinese or something?" I can't believe I'm having this conversation. I think I replied something like, "No, it's just ordinary slang," but my memory gets foggy at that point. It was just too surreal - a stripper who had no clue what a wang is.

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10:38 pm - Whores (attention and otherwise)

After accusing all LiveJournal users of being a bunch of attention whores on Slashdot at one point, here I am, eating my words and writing another entry in my very own LiveJournal. I must not have a life.

I figure if I'm going to write stuff here it should be marginally interesting - at least something I'd enjoy if I were the reader. I won't bore you with the day-to-day events of my life, my emotional highs and lows, etc. like so many other LiveJournalers do. As significant as those things may be to me, most people would be bored to tears reading about them. Lord knows I am. "Oh, I brushed my teeth today and the toothpaste tasted just like those after-dinner mints my grandma always has on her coffee table." Yeah, great, thanks. No, I'll stick to the basics - sex and humor - preferrably together.