Pornclerk.com

Extra Extra!

2012-01-01T16:33:00.000-08:00

My Dearest Devils, we're moving the blog over to my regular site, kristinelevine.com. Stand by for more details but some really exciting changes are coming very soon.

All my love,
Your pornclerk

He Fuckin Knows.

2011-12-27T13:22:00.000-08:00

We clerks are not perfect. When you're in the babysitting business, you've gotta kick out scumbags and sometimes, we get the wrong scumbag.

Sometimes police get the wrong guy.

Not everyone can have a photographic memory like Detective Goren on Law and Order... That fuckin guy.

There is a club here in Portland called Dante's. It's exactly what you think it is. It's dark. It's broody. There's a fire pit. It's filled with sinful things. But it's also what I consider to be my home club. The owner has always been exceptionally kind to me and I love him very much. When he can, he lets me sit my fat ass up in the balcony during shows so I don't have to sweat it out in the trenches with the commoners.

It's also where he puts celebrities when they come to town.

On one such occasion I was up in the balcony, sitting in the front. There was no one else up there. When the show started, up came a very tall man, full lips and curls. I knew this motherfucker in an instant.

I turned to my friend and said, "Oh my fucking god. THEY ARE EVERYWHERE." I looked back at the man sitting behind me. Mean mugged him as hard as I could. I have to deal with these pricks in my real life, I'm not doin it while I'm having fun too. HELL NO.

My friend said, "What? Who?"

"Customers. From the fucking store. How the fuck did they let this piece of shit up here." I made sure that stupid fuck behind me, heard me. He curled up his dopey eyebrows as if to be confused. What a fucking retard.

"I've had to 86 this asshole so many times..." I told my friend.

"No shit?" My friend said, "What'd he do?"

I turned and burned a look of disgust at him, so dark and unholy and said, "Oh. HE FUCKIN KNOWS."

I went downstairs to get a drink, the owner of the club stopped me and said, "Hey Kristine, did you see Vince up there? You guys getting along?"

??? Vince? Who?

"Vincent D'Onofrio. He's up in the balcony."

Not for long, he wasn't. When I got back, he'd left.

I hope to meet him someday. And apologize for my terrible behavior. "I'm sorry sir, I thought you had masturbated in the King Cock isle."

"I'm the Official Sentry of the Island of Misfit Toys..."

2011-12-12T17:16:00.001-08:00

Michael Mcbride was a scumbag from the day he was born. He was ugly and ridiculously stupid. His mother was a whore and a drunk, his sisters were no better. Now in their 60's, I imagine Bev and Barb feel bad about leaving me alone with their pervert brother, but it's too late now isn't it.

The twins were supposed to be babysitting me. But they always went upstairs to smoke weed and listen to records while Michael "watched" me. I was 4 years old. I remember he took out his penis in front of his friend, an even uglier motherfucker with crazy teeth pointing in all directions like a confused compass. Ugly's name was Red, due to his long, bright red hair. Red said, "Dude, that's gross..." I remember Michaal saying, "Don't worry dude, she does it all the time..."

All the time. Thank god I remember only once.

Fast forward 30 years, I was working at the porno store on a snowy Christmas eve. I have often thought the only reason I've understood the store, the way it functions and it's dysfunction, is BECAUSE I was molested. Normal people can't cut it there. You have to be broken to know how it works, so that you can work with broken parts of people... All I have ever tried to do is see where their holes were, same as mine usually, and try to fill them up best I could with love and care and sometimes, discipline.

But on that cold Christmas eve, an old man came in to the store. Now, coincidentally, my mother used to work at that same store, back when it was a restaurant called The Crab Bowl. When I was a little girl, I used to sit in the corner of that restaurant with a drunk man, my mom's friend, who I named "Woofie." His real name was Don. We'd color, he'd howl, eat poached eggs and toast with me while my mother was working. I drank hot chocolate, he'd drink whatever was put in front of him.

Don recognized me because I look so much like my mother. "You Suzy's daughter?" I am, indeed. We were both astonished. He remembered me as a child, I remembered him, looking the same.

Woofie came in that Christmas eve to give me some "terrible" news, he said. "So sad," he said. "Marianne's son was killed tonight in a car accident."

I paused. "WHAT? Which son?" She'd had another son, a bastard from a married man who was never told who his father was. Every one knew, including me, but him.

Woofie said, "Well David died a long time ago, also in an accident. But tonight, Mike Mcbride died. Isn't that awful? Marianne lost both her sons."

I laughed. Damn right she did. I'm in this porno store because of what that stupid fuck did to me, for what it's worth, good and bad, I can't even get out of it or away from it. She lost both her sons. She didn't deserve either of them to begin with.

And as Woofie went on to tell me about the details of Michael's "tragic" death, I listened passively while watching the snow softly fall through the windows of the porno store. Sitting at my counter. Right where I believe, I was meant to be.

For good or bad.

You don't know me from TV.

2011-09-17T10:20:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, a very beautiful young man came into the store looking for a vibrator for his girlfriend.

She's shy, he says.

Then she's not adult enough to have sex, I think.

The boy seemed a little nervous too but, hey, I've done this way more often than he has, so I put him at ease, asked him some key questions and sent him home with a basic model that would get any job done. The very next night, he came back. This time, much more nervous. And he was carrying the bag I had sent home with him the night before.

"Hey Jason, What's up?" "Well..." He stammered. He pulled the vibrator out of the bag, "It's weird, it's... it's too big."

"WHAT?" I said, "Jason unless your girlfriend is a seven year old, this thing is not too big. If she's an adult and cant get it in, she needs to see a doctor. If she's a child, YOU need to see a doctor. Either way, I'm not taking it back."

"Oh ok ok no I know it's just that, can I talk to you over here?" He looked sideways like he was about to tell me a racist joke. "Ok. The truth is, and I should've told you this yesterday, but the truth is." Deep breath. "It's not for my girlfriend, it's for me."

"OH JESUS! Well now it all makes sense, why didn't you just tell me that shit in the first place? Now look what you could have avoided, this is TOTALLY not the right one for your butt. Silly boys. Ok baby, come with me. Let's find you the right one. I'm still not taking that shit back though..."

And happily, we walked through the store, put batteries in things. We had a lovely time, and finally I sent him home with a great turd shaped thing meant for baby boy's fresh, pink bottoms.

Fast forward a year. I'm at a night club and the boy bumps into me. He's with a whole pack of his dude-brofriends. Jason grabs me, stops me. "Oh my god I KNOW you!" He says, "I've seen you on tv right?"

I smile, shake my head. "No, you don't know me from tv."

"Yeah I do! I know ok don't tell me I'm gonna figure this out, what show were you on, Comedy Central special or something?"

I've crossed my arms, shaking my head.

"You've been on tv, right? Ok I'm gonna get this."

"Yeah, I've been on tv, but that's not where you know me from. You don't want me to tell you, in front of your friends where you know me from so I suggest you drop it."

His eyes got wide and more confused. "What the fuck, really? Where the fuck could I know you from that you can't say in front of my friends? I mean seriously, it's gonna drive me crazy. Guys, it's gotta be tv. Where else could it be? Come on, you're fucking with me. What show was it?"

I give up.

I took his hand in mine, looked him in the eyes, and spoke gently thus, "Jason White, I work at a porno store. And you lied to me when you bought a vibrator, telling me it was for your girlfriend but it was actually for you, and it was too big for you butt. And I remember you because in all my years of pornclerking, you are the only person who's ever been brave enough to come back and tell me the truth. I love you for that." I gave him a kiss on the cheek and walked away.

His dude-bros were silent. When your pornclerk tells you to drop it, drop it.

Don't YOU love your Bitch Ditch?

2011-08-19T07:33:00.000-07:00

Well I do. efferteez.com, click on the KL logo and go get you somethin pretty. My head hurts and is still fuzzy from the possible brain damage I may have had during my drunk skinny dip/fall in a fountain. Love, your pornclerk

Miss M and the Perfect Blow Job.

2011-08-18T17:21:00.000-07:00

Continuing our saga of the Tranny hooker we call Miss M...

She claimed she could deep throat a soda can with out even using her hands. I called bullshit on her. Seriously? In fact the Girl had a big, luscious mouth, so I didn't doubt her ability to get a cock IN it, but to deep throat it with out even forcing it down with her hands? No one pulling on her wig/hair? PFFT!

I challenged her to a suck-off.

She accepted my terms. I picked any rubber cock off the wall, she'd get it down her gullet.

I chose wisely, not an expensive one, one who's packaged was previously damaged by a man who'd tried to bite through it (more on that later) but it was of significant size and girth. I thought for sure she'd have to do a cartwheel over it to get it down with out using her hands.

We opened it, Miss M put it in her mouth, tilted her head back and the damn thing slid down like she was a professional sword swallower. My co-clerk and I were in awe of her! She spread her arms as if to say "Tada" and "Told you so."

She took a very graceful bow and ejected the wet rubber wiener. "See Girl, I tole you so. What you gotta do is open your throat, you just gotta relax. Once it gets passed the tonsils you can get anything down. Oh and you gotta breathe through your nose, that's important."

Miss M had cock sucking down to a science. "It should never take more than 7 minutes. Longer than that, you're doing it wrong." She should know, it was her business to know and in her business, time is money.

I half assed wiped off the cock with a paper towel and tried it myself. I gagged almost immediately. Tears welled up in my eyes. Not from the humiliation of being out done by a gorgeous man in designer mules, but from the torture of shoving that giant stupid fake shaft down my pie hole.

My co-clerk took the thing from me, I don't even think she bothered wiping it off, and she did get it down, though with much less grace and flair as our Miss M. Women do everything with less grace and flair than Trannies.

Up till then, I'd assumed I was a fantastic cocksucker. As a fat woman, and a pornlcerk at that, I have very little to offer a man. Sure, I'm smart and funny but what good does that do me? Men don't give a shit about smart and funny, in fact sometimes they flat out fucking resent us for it. The only thing I had going for me, I was certain of it, was that I gave great head. Fat girls give great head, everyone knows that. Look at us, we clearly love shoving shit in our mouths, we eat everything how can we not give great head??? HOW COULD I POSSIBLY SUCK AT SUCKING!?

I was distraught. I needed lessons. I put my pride aside and begged Miss M to teach me her ways. She said, "No problem, I'll find someone. I'll give you a live demonstration." She turned on her heels and trotted back down the dark hall to the arcade.

She came back a few minutes later, "Ok I got a guy, his dick is a tree trunk. He said you can come in and watch." I took a second to process what she was saying to me. I was being invited to watch a tranny suck-off a straight guy. In a booth. In the arcade. And I was gonna learn how to suck cock myself. By watching. A tranny. Suck a man's "tree trunk." In the arcade. I probably stopped blinking cause she said, "OK? Girl you comin?"

"Uh yeah... Why not." I mean, when am I gonna have this kind of invitation again? (As it would turn out, about a thousand times more but that's not the point.)

We walked down into the darkness together, at the end of the hall one booth door was open and the porn was already running. Our star was getting ready for the show.

He was naked from the waist down, and sure as shit, big as a tree trunk. A tree with many, many rings. Think, Rainforest Teak with vines as his veins. BIG. He put out his hand to shake mine and I respectfully declined his offer of courtesy. No, I'm Jane Goodall and you are now a monkey. We're not friends.

I locked the door behind us, and Miss M went right to work. She very lightly went to her knees, looked at me, put her hands behind her back just to show off, took a deep breath and dove in.

After a minute or two of watching her technique I think I got it. Slow, breath through the nose, a little tension past the tonsils, head tilted ever so slightly... I knew her time was short to the big moment so I excused myself from the room. I marched right up to that rubber dick and shoved it down my throat! Of course not with as much grace and flair as Miss M but by the Gay Gods I got that shit down! I was so proud of myself. My co-clerk hugged me. I did it! I CAN DO IT! Miss M is a wonder.

My co-clerk and I stared at the merchandise we'd used to learn on. I finally addressed the issue at hand, "What are we gonna do with it now? It's been in three mouths and none of us want it. Are you gonna buy it?"

"I'm not gonna buy it."

"Well we can't put it back on the shelf that would be disgusting..."

"Well yeah but... if you think about it are any of these toys sterile? I mean, how do we know the factory workers are just shoving them in their holes before they ship them?"

"True... and shouldn't people wash their toys when they get home anyway? Isn't it really on them to take care of that and not to assume every thing is squeaky clean, especially if it's going in their holes?"

My co-clerk had the thing repacked up and sitting next to her stack of merchandise to put away before I could even finish that sentence. Neither one of us felt good about it, but both of us knew what we had to do.

I don't think any of us have ever thought of tweekers as problem solvers, but as luck would have it, a very skinny, clearly gakked out of her gourd so high on meth should could see the stars below her, was probably sent to us that night as an angel. She came in with a guy, every bit as adorably strung out as she was, but less -- clumsy and dancey about it.

"How much for a one a those rooms? I need a room is it ten dollars fine here take this just put in any movie I don't care..." My co-clerk looked at me. She was a goddamned genius. She casually pushed the lesson-dildo towards the tweeker lady. "Oh my god I'll fucking take that too, how much? Oh that's all fine fucking give me that and a room let's go."

Problem solved and no ethical boundaries were hopped over or crawled under. I'd like a tee-shirt that says, "Thank the gods for tweekers." Because sometimes, they're little fairy godtweekers and meth is just pixie dust.

Fast forward five years. I'm working at a different store, same company. A man walks in. Asks me how I'm doing, tells me it's been a long time... "I'm sorry do we know each other?"

"Yeah kinda. I'm the guy who, well you know, a few years ago you watched your tranny friend..." his voice trailed.

"OH YES!!! GREG! So great to see you again. I'm so sorry, I didn't recognize you with your pants on."

Guest Blogger: Pornclerk Andrew...SHITZILLA!

2011-08-14T23:50:00.000-07:00

Pornclerk Andrew is more than a clerk, he is an extremely gifted writer and a fellow soldier with us, literally in the SHIT. Though probably each of us clerks have our own personal Shitter story, this one is The Freddy Krueger of Shitters. Andrew kindly gives us, Shitzilla. Turn on all the lights. Lock your bathroom door from the inside so nothing can escape and read on if you dare.

~pornclerk.com editorial staff

My coworker’s friend Phillip came into the store just to shoot the shit, He was a

bouncer at a dive bar down the street from my store and always would tell me stories of his days bouncing at my favorite girly bars around Portland. As we were talking a little Mexican guy brought a DVD up to the counter asking for a preview. I said that I’d put him in booth 2. After a few minutes of collecting four rolls of paper towels sheet by sheet the Mexican guy came out of the booth and up to the counter.

“Amigo, ders somebody seeping in der,” he said.

I rolled my eyes and though here we go again. After reassigning the Mexican guy to another booth, I grabbed the Mag-light and headed back to the arcade. Sleeping porn store customers happens on an occasional basis. Middle age combined with the influence of alcohol can psychically exhaust a person after they have just covered themselves in their own semen.

Though a sleeping customer is not an everyday occurrence in an adult video arcade, it happens enough that most porn clerks have worked out a procedure into handling the situation. (Since this incident the management at my store has added a rape whistle to our keychain to wake people up.) I popped open the door to booth 2 and banged on the side of the wall with the butt of the Mag-light. In the glow of the DVD menu screen I saw a tall lanky man slumped out on the padded bench, he was completely naked. I was surprised to see that this man was not really in the bottom of the pecking order of porn store customers. He wasn’t a trailer dweller who didn’t pay for his booth time with bottle refunds. He seemed well groomed, un-famished and probably had only seen crystal meth on TV. In fact what seemed like moments before he came though the entrance to my store sporting and Izod polo shirt and pressed kakis, he even smiled at me and said hello.

“Wake up!” I yelled. He groaned like a middle school kid who’s mom was telling

them breakfast was really. “Get dressed. I want you out of here in five minutes.” I left the booth and went back to the counter. I watched the clock. A part of me was anticipating the disappointment I’d feel when he’d becoming out of the booth within two minutes.

“What’s happening?” Phillip asked.

“Oh nothing, some asshole just fell asleep in the booth. This happens from time to time.”

The five minutes passed and they guy still hadn’t left the booth. I sighed. I did

not want to have to deal with an “incident” as we call situations like this in the porn clerking business. I went into the booth banged harder with the Mag-light. “If you’re not out of here in two minutes you’ll be banned permanently!” I yelled, with more conviction than before. The guy just groaned louder. I walked back to the counter but with more frustration than my previous booth visit.

Philip saw that the incident was getting to me.“Dude let me handle this. I have

to deal with this shit all the time.” This was true; Phillip made a living as a bouncer strip clubs Devil’s Point and the Acropolis Steakhouse. It was a safe bet that he’d encountered his fair share of drunk dickheads in his day. I handed him the Mag-light and watched from the counter as he walked back into the arcade. Almost immediately he came back out sporting a thousand yard stare of horror on his face.

“Dude, you can deal with that fucker, I’m not going to.”

“Why?”

“He just shit himself.”

My eyes bugged out of my head “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“No, I’m not.”

My heart sank as I began to realize what I had gotten myself into.

I left what I perceived to be a high stress and demanding job at Miller Paint to work in the pornography business. Despite a four dollar an hour pay cut, I figured that working in an adult retail establishment would meet most of my slackerish demands. They don’t care about my piercings, I don’t have to wear a uniform and my boss is well aware of how much marijuana I smoked. With all the downtime I had a chance to catch up on my reading and do homework. But with all the perks of the porn clerking profession I began to realize that I was face to face with the fine print. Nudity and fecal matter were two things I would have never had to deal with had I kept a career in home improvement.

“Well.” I said “We got to get him out.”

I stormed into the booth and pounded on the wall of the booth. I saw him still

lying on the bench passed out. If Chuck Berry and GG Allin saw the amount of fecal matter he was covered in, they would have ejaculated.

“LISTEN SHIT STAIN YOU NEED TO GET OUT THE FUCK OUT OF MY

STORE RIGHT….”

“HEY!” He sprang to his feet out of his drunken stupor. Little chucks of shit fell

off of him. “WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU IN MY BOOTH?!” The shit monster lunged toward me I got out of the booth just in time to see the side of his face hit the wall. Customers who witnessed the situation said that I did a thirty-foot standing long jump in half a second. I shined the Mag-light into the booth and I saw the shit monster poke his head from behind the corner with a murderous rage in his eye. He yelled at me but I was too traumatized to remember what he said.

Psychologist say that when a person experiences a traumatic event, the brain is

overwhelmed with processing the situation that the short term memory is overloaded, leaving parts of the event blackout from a person’s mind. This was something I never understood until this incident. Before I knew it I was behind the counter and Shitzilla was trying to put on his clothes as he yelled at me walking out the door. The Phillip and the rest of the customers were frozen in shock. I grabbed the baseball bat hidden behind the counter. While genuinely freaked out I could remember very little over the events of the final outcome of this incident. What I think happened was that another customer in the store might have called 911 on their cell phone. Within what seemed like only a few seconds after the attack the police were in our parking lot. Shitzilla had gotten into his black Dodge Stratus and put the keys in the ignition, which by legal definition is a DUI. I wanted to explain to the police what happened. I could have filed attempted assault with bodily waste on this asshole, but I just wanted this situation to go away.

I spent the final hour of my shift with my face in my palm wishing that I got paid more the $8.40 an hour. But all I did was lock the booth and put a hand made "do not enter" sign on the door, wishing I knew Spanish well enough to apologize the janitor who would have to clean it up the next morning. 11 O’clock rolled around and pulled out of the parking lot as the tow truck was taking away Shitzilla’s car. The next day on the way to school I passed by a bus stop in front of the county jail. Shitzilla was standing there; apparently the guards had hosed him down since I last saw him.

On occasion Shitzilla tries to comeback into my store. He doesn’t understand why I don’t let him back in. I doubt he has any memory of the whole event, he doesn’t know how lucky he is.

Because I really wish I could forget it.

Dear Pornclerk,

2011-08-07T11:22:00.000-07:00

No, this will not be a creepier version of Penthouse Forum. Due to requests and reader emails we are going to begin a Pornclerk Advice column. Ask your questions, we will do our best to not mock you for being stupid.

love,
Pornclerk.com editorial staff

pornclerkblog@gmail.com

PORNCLERKS: We Belong Together.

2011-08-05T20:40:00.000-07:00

Well, even though I sometimes feel like I would have been better off had I chose to go into professional skate boarding, I did decide to become a pornclerk. Or, rather, I sometimes tell people, "the job chose me."

Clerks, if you want to wear your occupation proudly, please do so. We do at my store. No one knows what it's like but us. Other than the long lost, thousand yard stare, and the ability to watch shit porn while eating Dinty Moore Beef Stew, how else can the civilians tell us apart from themselves?

I like myself to be marked.

You're welcome... Official Pornclerk Shirt

A comment so nice, we're posting it twice.

2011-07-31T19:55:00.000-07:00

A while back we wrote a list of five "rules" let's call them, that generally serve as a pornclerk's guide to preserve our own humanity. Below is a comment posted by one of our former co-clerks. We loved it so much we have to repost for all to see. Sincerely, Pornclerk.com Staff Senior Editor

A link to the Pornclerk's Creed

What Ryan said. That team spirit shit only went so far.

We once had a new hipster shithead of a clerk who accused me of eating his week-old pizza in the store fridge. Like all the cunty cowards I worked with, he didn't say it to my face, but scrawled this accusation in the Log Book, then hastily--and poorly--scribbled over it, I assume after Kristine told him I hadn't done it.

So the next time I see this mass of pompadour grease and tribal tattoos, he says to me, "Hey man, I'm sorry I thought you were the one who ate my food. It's just cuz, well, you know." And then gestures towards my misshapen, flabby torso by way of justifying his thought processes.

Then he left without A) waiting for my response, B) clocking out, or C) even dropping his till money in the safe.

As I watched him saunter out, wallet chain swinging in the sun, I said, "I think he's stealing," reached in his till, and grabbed a handful of $20 bills.

He was fired a couple days later.

AND. Just so you know.

2011-07-17T18:31:00.001-07:00

I have also eaten an entire bottle of grape flavored lube in lieu of candy. I was on a diet.

Oh and another time...

2011-07-17T18:30:00.000-07:00

I brought home some glow in the dark bubble bath called Sexy Suds. Forgetting that 6 year olds go away to the magic place in the mornings and come home knowing shit, my daughter freaked out when she read the label, after her bath. "DID YOU GET THITH FROM THE THEXTHY STHORE? MOM!!! You know how I feel about thingths from the Thexthy Sthore..." Yes, I was berated by my 6 year old daughter for oh about an hour. It was like having a 75 year old spinster nag me about how it's chilly.

Get off my ass Lady, I brought you bubble bath.

Once...

2011-07-17T18:21:00.000-07:00

I blew up non-lubricated condoms from the store and let the kids play with them as balloons.

We were broke, and they had a good time What. Later they filled some up with water and pelted each other with them. For the record, those things can hold a TON of water.

Even a poor strategy works against those with no strategy at all.

2011-07-15T15:37:00.000-07:00

more Miss M stories to come, they are some real doosies.

But speaking of prostitutes... I once had a very grumpy co-clerk. Sure, I'd given him the handy at the counter to relieve him some, but within a week he was irritated again. He hadn't been laid in... oh every day I worked with him it was a new number of days, weeks and months. He was irritable. Like a colicky baby, I felt he needed soothing.

One of the cruisers came up to the counter to rat out a hooker. Again, they don't like the hookers, trans or any kind whatsoever because the ladies are in effect, their competition.

But you know what I hate more than bitches? Snitches.

"There's a lady back there, and I believe she's selling herself."

"Oh fantastic thank you, I'll take care of that right away."

I turned to my co-clerk, "Well, we have a working girl in the back you wanna get her or me?"

My co-clerk didn't even look up from his book, "Tell her to blow me."

Knowing he'd had a dry spell, looking for a little relief myself from his being Mr. Grumpy-pants. I thought, ok. It's a great fucking idea.

I got up and walked down to the arcade. I found her, a little mousy, dirty blonde thing. She must've been new to meth, as she still had most of her teeth. She'll do.

"Excuse me honey but I heard you've been committing some, perhaps we should say, 'illicit' activities back here?"

She wiped her hands on her dirty jeans, ran them through her hair and started her story, "Oh no no I'm just waiting for..."

"Shshshsh," I hushed her softly, "No babe, I'm not here to bust you, I'm trying to make a deal with you. I need a favor from you. And if you're willing to DO this favor for me, then we might be able to turn a blind eye to these 'illicit' activities and let you finish your... um... shift here or whatever. You do me a favor, we let you work here for the night. That's what I'm offering."

She was clearly confused, "I don't get it... what do you want?"

I just laid it out there. "The guy at the counter needs a blow job. He's driving me batshit cause he's being such an asshole. You give him one for free and we don't kick you out. It's that simple, are you in?"

"Um... yeah hold on I gotta ask my pimp. Kelly?" She called for him. A little man emerged from one of the booths. Pasty white, equally as rodent-like in appearance as her, I knew Kelly in an instant. He was one of our regulars, one of our night time zombies. He was friendly and cool, a good tipper. Who knew he was such a playa. Honestly, I was relieved it was him. Now I KNEW this was gonna go down. Er. SHE was gonna go down.

I made my offer to Kelly. He accepted with her approval. One condition, Kelly smiled, "I gotta watch. That's how we do it. I gotta be there to protect her. I know you all are trustworthy and whatnot but that's how we do it. She works, I watch."

I went back to my co-clerk to present him with their counter offer, told him it was our neighborhood friendly Kelly who was in charge of her. He accepted their terms.

"Ok then, get back there! Go on they're waiting."

Even with his disbelief he still got up and headed slowly towards the arcade. His brain must've fallen out of his head.

"HEY!" I yelled, "Wallet, dummy. In case she rolls you while your pants are down." Never bring your wallet to a blowjob, everyone knows that. He nodded, handed me his wallet and down the hall he disappeared.

He came back three minutes later, and that bought me about 3 months of smiles. Totally worth it.

This happened

2011-07-15T15:06:00.000-07:00

Once I gave my co-clerk a handjob at the counter and then wiped his semen on a bunch of one dollar bills I could hand back to a tweeker who kept giving ME money he kept in his shoe and down his pants. His hands smelled like butt. I'd just... snapped. I was done. I mean, for god's sake how much poop can one man get under his fingernails?! TOO MUCH!

I guess, in retrospect, I could have just asked my co-clerk to go jerk off in a cup for, but I didn't think of that.

Sigh.

Miss M and The Birthday Freebie

2011-07-14T15:07:00.000-07:00

Miss M was the cliche tranny hooker with a heart of gold. But the glint of rhinestone that reflected in her eyes off her earrings when a pack of fresh 18 year old boys came in almost made her look like the devil. Something about those, lithe young boys that turned her into a predator. The normally congenial, consistently kind person saw those little blooming men and devolved into a shark. She began circling the waters. Eyes on them. Lips pursed. Cheeks sucked in.

I checked their ID's. "How else will I know where you live?" I said to them. I know, it's creepy, but that's the point. I was just priming them for what was to come. One of the boys was having his 18th birthday.

As Miss M swooshed her hair around her face and sashayed her tail, gliding around them, I announced to her, "Miss M! THIS ONE TURNED 18 JUST TWO HOURS AGO!" Oh... what to do with him. Give him a tour? Show him The Fist or the Electric Shock Butt Plug? Make him watch Pee Hole Gang-Bang? No.

Let her have him. Miss M's eyes widened, she licked her lips and dove right in through the group of them. She put her soft arm through the Birthday Boy's and said, "Why don't I show you around..." Why don't she. Sensing danger, one of the smarter ones asked, "Um... does she work here?"

I smiled. "Tonight, she does."

Like a surgeon she cut two boys away from the herd. The Birthday Boy, and the one she actually wanted. She told them that she'd give them a two for one deal. She'd give the Birthday Boy a free blow job, but the other one had to pay $20. She wanted him so bad she lowered her fee. How nice of her. Like a vampire, she must be invited in.

She brought them into the jack shack room, she unbuttoned their pants, one hand on each so both were exposed at the same time. When she explained to me her technique I found her reasoning to be quite sound. So that no one feels like they're "going first." She wants everyone in the party to feel comfortable. Always such a grand hostess.

With expertise of a professional, I assume she handled them both with affection and vigor. The Non Birthday Boy was so aroused he felt bold enough to reach his hand down the front of Miss M's dress. Not finding a breast there, but instead a filet of silicone, he panicked. Miss M popped both cocks out of her mouth and pushed this boy outside the room. Birthday Boy, alone, and confused, was left still at full salute.

"DUDE, YOU'RE A FUCKING DUDE!" Miss M relayed the story back to me with tremors in his voice and tears forming in his eyes. Miss M shoved the boy up against the wall with her now clearly male arms bulging muscles and full-on brute force, lowered her voice and said, "Listen to me you little shit, this is your friends birthday and he wants a fucking blow job. You get your ass in there and let me finish both of you like a fucking man. And don't you EVER tell him, you got that?"

Tears now ran full and fast, "Yes, ok ok..."

Miss M continued, "If you fucking breathe a word of this to him, you'll ruin him for life. Getting a blow job from a man on his 18th birthday and you just let it happen? You disgust me. He was having a great time in there before you got weird. No one has to know and YOU LIKE IT. Now, get yourself together and let me finish my fucking job."

Boy wiped his eyes. Shaken, but Miss M said they both came around the same time despite the interruption. The Birthday Boy was heard asking, "What the fuck happened?"

"Nothing. Nevermind I just never done that before... I dunno."

Miss M came to the counter, stood by me while we waved goodbye to the boys. Not knowing yet what happened to them, I said, "Goodbye. COME AGAIN!"

Miss M reapplied her lipstick next to me, told me what had just happened. She said, "How can they claim to not know? No offense but, Girl, I look better than any of you real women. Why would a woman who looks as good as ME be in a porno store at 3am looking like this? I AM PAINTED, HONEY. Look at me! I'm fucking painted. Pfft, they knew." She called them all faggots, whipped her hair around and went back into the darkness that was her office.

The cruelest thing, but smartest thing she did was make the Birthday Boy's friend promise to never tell. I imagine someday, in their 40's those two will be sitting at a bar. And on his birthday, his friend will finally say, "Man, I got something I gotta tell you..." Just how long can you keep a secret like that?

The Divine Miss M

2011-07-10T13:00:00.000-07:00

I know her real name. Both of them. The one her parents gave her when she was born a bouncing little baby Latino boy, and I know the one he christened himself with to become the Queen of all Queens. But for her privacy, you don't get to know either of them.

"Do we really have to call HIM a HER?" asked my co-clerk one night. "Yes," I said. "Anyone who that much effort into looking like a woman, gets to be called one. Now, if they're like that dude in the black dress? Stomping in with those heels and doesn't even shave his beard? Fuck him. He's just a man in a dress."

But Miss M was a Lady. She was slight, delicate, energetic. She didn't do drugs, but sometimes we watched her do cartwheels in heels. She was the whole package, all the time. Her Manolo Blahnik mules, Coach bag, Mac make-up, dripping in fake jewels. Her style was her own, somewhere between Phyllis Diller and Audrey Hepburn. Her smile was a bright beam surrounded by two pillows of lips one could rest their head on. And many did.

She was always honest with us about why she was coming in. "Girl, I need to make my coin..." I understood her completely. Being a Drag Queen doesn't exactly pay the bills, no matter how exquisite she is. And yet, the bills must get paid.

The other cruisers in the arcade hated her. "How am I supposed to catch a straight guy when there's THIS," they complained, pointing to Miss M, "to contend with? No straight guy is gonna go in the booth with us while she's parading around in her fake boobs looking like a woman. She's not playing fair... " They had a point. I sat at my counter like a judge hearing their argument and objections. "Not only that, but she's charging them! We're giving it away for free, don't you have a moral and legal obligation to stop that?"

After a few moments of thought I handed down my ruling as such: "I understand that you guys feel like you're in competition with her. I understand that a straight guy who's a six pack away from going gay stumbles in, if she weren't here, you might have had a shot at him. HOWEVER, that does not mean Miss M should not be allowed to be here, just because she's screwing up your game. If you wanted to dress like a woman, if you could even pass off as this beautiful, then of course you also would be welcome. Should she be penalized because she's beautiful? Because she's disturbed your boys club? I don't think so. She doesn't wait at the windows, or cruise the parking lot like you guys do... As for her charging for sex, we only assume that because she's dressed the way she is. What about you guys? How do I know none of you are hustlers? Gay hookers are much harder to spot and no one will rat them out. You assume SHE is working just by the way she's painted. I have no jurisdiction behind those closed doors. Now, Miss M, please keep your activities discreet, and give the old boys some game. Maybe refer some of your clients to your colleagues. You don't have to have EVERYONE. No more cartwheels. Thank you. Miss M is free to practice here, as long as she is not disturbing myself or our other customers." I slammed down a stack of Hustlers as my gavel.

Now, I have to get ready for work at the Porno Store, so the rest will have to wait. More to come: Miss M and The Birthday Freebie, Miss M and The Tranny-Scripts, Miss M and The Perfect Blow Job, Miss M and the Half-Gay Frat Boy. Miss M and the Homo Hallows.

Guest Blogger: Pornclerk Gally gives us the Pinball Wizard

2011-06-11T14:51:00.000-07:00

We do spend a lot of time bitching about our job. All the lies, the sickness, the weirdness, the constant barrage of seemingly unending bullshit takes it's toll and wears us so thin. And then, we get bright sparkles of hope and light and joy. Often times in the spirits of our favorite customers. We do have favorites. Some of you are loved, so dearly. You probably don't even know. We pornclerks crave the light, but take comfort in the darkness. Here's one from our Pornclerk Sister Gally. ~Pornclerk.com editorial staff

So tonight is one of those I remember why 'I love this job' kinda nights. I had a visit from an all time favorite custy, Pinball Moe.

Moe is a man of intimitating size and build, I was told he used to be a cage fighter and concussions are partially to blame for why he talks like that guy from king of the hill, boom-something or another. But despite the fact I can barely understand him he is one of the sweetest and most entertaining customers I have ever had. He also kinda looks like Mr. Clean.

Now, Moe comes in to show off his amazing pinball skills. He likes to show off these skills while wearing very tight, tiny and brightly colored (hot pink tonight) short shorts. These shorts only help you focus on his amazing pinball technique which includes constant pelvic thrusting, back and forth and side to side and even some up and down! To make things even better, he also loves to slap his ass! He seems to always be giving his ass a little slap when he is doing good at pinball, just after talking with someone, or as he is walking around. Favorite though is the windmill ass slap that can be heard echoing through the store, he seems to reserve this one only for when he is really killing it at pinball.

Also I adore him because he always calls me a sweet pet name like babe, hun or sweetie :)

This happened.

2011-06-11T14:32:00.000-07:00

Me- Honey you have late fees.

Kid- on what movie?

Me, looking at Kid's friend- I'd rather not say.

Kid's friend- DUDE YOU GOT MISS PISS?!

Sigh. I tried.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered.

2011-06-03T08:41:00.000-07:00

I know it's not always a good idea to proposition customers with offers of sexual favors but when they're ignoring you just to touch panties or playing pocket pool while staring at the lubricants, a clerk's gotta do SOMETHING to snap them out of it.

I'd asked him several times if I could help him. "Sir? See anything you need? I can answer any questions... Sir? If you need anything... No? Just gonna act like I'm not here? Ok."

I started to walk away. And then I thought, "NOT DONE."

Because I couldn't think of anything else and we'd just gotten The Big Lebowski "parody" in, I said to the man ignoring me, "Hey, I'll suck your dick for a thousand dollars."

Guess who turned his head. "Oh I see NOW I have your attention. Too bad I'm kidding. Right? Am I? I'm kidding?"

At work we have comment cards. I filled one out on myself, just in case he complained so I could beat him to the punch.

Customer Service: VERY POOR

Have you been in our store before? A THOUSAND TIMES

Describe your experience: YOUR FAT BLONDE CLERK OFFERED FELLATIO FOR $1,000. WHEN I LEFT AND THEN RETURNED WITH THE MONEY REFUSED TO SERVICE ME.

Any other services you'd like us to provide: YES, HOW ABOUT A CLERK WHO DOESN'T LIE TO YOUR CUSTOMERS AND IS TRUE TO HER WORD!!!

We don't even need a stamp for these things.

Well, I'd say her high school guidance counselor didn't steer her right...

2011-05-14T14:46:00.000-07:00

A woman in Brazil has won the right in court to not only masturbate at work but use work computers to look at porn while she does it. If she were a porn star I think we'd all nod our heads in unison and go, "right?" But SHE is an accountant. She claims she "needs" to do it about 18 times a day. Well, she's good at counting her orgasms.

Poor little thing seems to suffer from anxiety and "hyper-sexuality." Know what works for those things? Banging your boss.

As a seasoned pornclerk, I've had my share of co-clerks over the years who flat out just couldn't handle it and had to "take care of things" once or twice during our shift together. I get it. But even I would object to working with this bitch.

And this is how nice I am to work with: I once got a hooker to give my male, sexually repressed and severely grumpy co-clerk a free blow job, just to cheer him up so yes, I DO know sometimes you gotta just do it... but this. NOPE. Even the pornclerk says nope.

PS thank you to Pornclerk Ngila for bringing this touching story to our attention. ~Pornclerk.com editorial staff

Osama bin Jerkin! amiright?

2011-05-13T11:33:00.000-07:00

http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
They're now reporting that porn was found in the bin Laden vacation home at the time of the raid.

That's about the only report on any of this that I find even slightly believable. His masturbation and porn loving WOULD explain why he couldn't bring himself to get his shit together long enough to plot out another "attack."

The Salon.com article is here and they took the words right out of my head.

ps thank you Patrick for bringing to our attention that the middle guy looks like Joe Rogan. ~Pornclerk.com editorial staff

And The Game Played On...

2011-05-07T11:47:00.001-07:00

There once was a customer named Omar, who I can only assume, has long since been deported for being a supreme cocksucker. Oh sure, all his paperwork was likely in order. I bet he dotted every I and crossed every T. Perhaps he even paid a woman to marry him just to make sure he could stay in this country. But, I am still certain he was deported for being a cocksucker.

Omar was a Middle Eastern man who hated women almost as much as he hated pork sliders and baseball. His last name was so perfect, though I remember it I can't publish it here, yet. Just know, his last name was so wonderful the way it rolled off the tongue, it sounded exactly like the name of an old 80's rock band now playing the casino circuit.

And every time Omar walked in the door, my co-clerk would say to me, with out fail and with great intensity: "THE HOUSE. IS ABOUT. TO COCK. "

Indeed it was. Omar hated me and hated me helping him. Because of this, we made sure that Chad went on 'break' as soon as Omar came in. Omar was Chad's gift to me. Omar hated me, but I loved him so so much.

His constant arguing over late fees made me smile for days. His outrage over movies not being in when he thought they would be brought me so much joy I came to work early on the days I thought he'd come in. And when he'd repeatedly bring movies back in trying to get freebies by claiming they didn't work, it was nothing but a delight for me to review his porn right in front of him and tell him no, it works fine. Being Omar's clerk was like eating cheesecake. So rich, and delicious and I still treasure every argument we had.

Once, with a smile on my face, I said to him, "Omar, I'm sorry, your movie, 'Fuck Hole Sluts' is not in yet, you'll have to wait till next week."

"WHAT! How dare you speak to me in that LANGUAGE! You are an INSOLENT woman and should not be aspeaking to a man in that alanguage!"

"Omar, do you see where you fucking are?"

"DO NOT SPEAK TO ME USING FOUL ALANGUAGE!"

"You can't be fucking serious."

"I am gonna areport you!"

"Report me? For using the word 'Fuck' in a sentence when it's on pretty much every title here? Are you kidding me?"

"YOU are a terrible WOMAN! No man will every be amerried to you!"

"I know Omar, I'm insolent. I know."

"I am a good good customer here and I demand for service! You are terrible and I'm a good customer!"

I laughed. Time to set him straight.

"No Omar, you are a terrible customer. In fact you're probably the worst customer we've ever had in the history of customers. You complain about every movie, you constantly try to get refunds and credits, you argue every late fee even when you KNOWINGLY bring in your movies late. You hardly spend a dime here. You are a terrible customer. So bad, no one else even wants to help you but me. In fact, I SHOULD 86 you because you're such a pain in the ass, but I don't. Know why? Because you're hilarious and I enjoy our little exchanges. You lose your shit over nothing and I crack up the rest of the night. You're a yarn ball and I'm a kitten and I absolutely LOVE our game. However, if you'd like to take this to the next level, and end our relationship, I would also be willing to do that, even though I'll miss you. So. You can either shut the fuck up and let's continue our fun, or you can leave..."

Omar nodded his head. And stayed for another two years. But he was always a cocksucker, and I was always insolent.

Happy Mother's Day to me (early edition)

2011-05-05T10:24:00.000-07:00

I don't know if you guys have figured it out yet, but I'm a mother of three. I've raised them all while working at the porno store for the majority of their lives. They grew up knowing mommy worked in a place for grown ups. And then, as they got older, the stories Mamu brought home to them and then they relayed to their friends, got way cooler.

When they where little I remember coming home from work and they'd run to meet me at the door and say, "Anything good happen at work today Mamu? Tell us about Tweeker Bob did he come in?" And I'd sit there with them around me, holding court, telling them the Legend of Tweeker Bob, The Asshole Named Omar, the fantastic story of "Stompy," the guy who actually threw a toddler, foot stomping fit because he couldn't rent a movie.

All of this was an excellent education in human behavior for my children. I told them what drugs do. I explained to them what twists minds can take. I told them how to treat the mentally ill and the homeless and how to spot the difference between a con and a real need for help. I even told them, "Sometimes, you indulge the con." Cause sometimes, that's as good as their day is gonna get.

However, there was a price I had to pay for working at the store while raising children. While I was telling them stories, educating them, sometimes my own mind was unraveling over the things I had to hide from them. The things 8 and 10 year olds don't need to know. And sometimes, the darkness just slipped out anyway.

When my son was young he asked me a very thoughtful and smart question. He said, "Mamu, when a snake eats a rat, it puts its venom in the rat. Why can't it poison itself?" Brilliant kid, my son.

I gave it some thought and began my answer: "Well honey, it's like when you're fucking a girl in the ass..."

I remember the look on his face. I assume he remembers the horror on mine as I was listening to the horrible shit coming out of my mouth to my child. I'm just so numb at that point, how do I censor myself... I was just so cavalier about it, like I was telling him why it rains. I shut up quickly and just said, "Ya know, I don't know" and I walked away from him.

My logic wasn't flawed though, here's what I was thinking-- I was thinking, "Well it's like when you're fucking a girl in the ass, and then she turns around and sucks you off, she doesn't really have to worry about giving herself hepatitis, because you can't give yourself something you've already got. Just like a snake eating a rat." I mean, you do have to give me some credit, I had clearly worked out a theory.

So by the time I found a dead man in the jack shack, they said again as always, "Mamu did anything exciting happen at work last night?" I said, "Nope, same as always."

I did tell them eventually. As soon as I knew which parts to edit out.

The kids have paid a price for my occupation. I couldn't have foreseen that when I first started working there, just to take care of them. How could I have known my job would cost them anything? They've had friends tell them they can't come over anymore because of where I work. They've been teased. Usually comes down to religion, or I happen to know the dad of the other family is a closet gay and he's worried I'll say.

My son's 10th birthday party was canceled because the store had an outbreak of scabies and the incubation period for these things was a week. There would be no way to know if we had the bugs in our house before the party. So instead of taking a risk of infecting 8 little boys with scabies, my son told them we couldn't have the party. It never occurred to me to tell my son to lie to his friends. So they made fun of him, because is mom who works at the dirty store, has bugs. NICE.

I think looking back now, we're happy with how we've grown and learned, they and myself together. The store has given, and still gives us, more than it takes away. They don't do drugs, because they know. They aren't promiscuous and don't watch a lot of porn, because they know. They don't let themselves go too far off the rails, because they know. I'm proud of how we've all turned out. In the end, we're better for it all and I'm more grateful and proud of my job than I am ashamed of it. I am now the oldest pornclerk.

And now the kids are almost all old enough to come in and visit me. But I won't ever let them work there.

Finally.

2011-05-05T09:39:00.000-07:00

We have FIXED a major issue with the blog. NOW everyone may post comments, even anonymously. SO you no longer have to join the blog to have your voice be heard. THANK YOU BABY BUTT PLUG JESUS.

~Pornclerk.com Editorial Staff