What the Actual Fuck

7: The Covidity of if All

noreply@blogger.com (This Girls' Life In Pieces) — Fri, 05 Feb 2021 19:18:00 +0000

I’m back bitches and where do I even start?!

A shitload of nothingness has plagued me since the last time I spewed it all out for ya.

Dear diary, mood… apathetic.

Refresher 101, the world is the absolute fuckin same, the end.

Ladies and gents of the world (a.k.a all 6 of you that read this) it has happened! I believe I have finally become a responsible adult as evidenced by my ability to successfully and independently function within society without turning to fuckin’ Tik Tok for guidance! In your face teachers that thought they would never see the day. The world is my oyster and I’m going to shuck the fuck out of it, hallelujah!
Totally kidding. Like everyone else, I’ll blame my total lack of any motivation on this pandemic. Have I had almost a year to turn my life around? Yes. Could I have used this opportunity to learn a new language and upgrade myself both physically or mentally? Also yes. Did I do any of that? Abso-fucking-lutely not. Come at me.
Let’s be real, I’m destined to sit on the bottom bench of the class pictures for the rest of my damn life. Fuck you top row people! Fuuuuck you.

But seriously, I don’t know about any of you but I’ve absolutely loved watching the evolution of humanity during this pandemic.

Stay with me here, after all of this pandemic time, we’re all just sitting here repeating the phrase “it’s fine, I’m fine” or my favourite “We’re doing fine”.
On top of that, suddenly everyone has become either a self employed hustler with their “rustic” Etsy page, A hermit-ified human being with no concrete need for others in their lives or an “anti” / “pro” someone or other that all of a sudden is well versed in the art of one sided arguements with themselves in the shower. Cracks me up everytime.
You know exactly who I’m talking about too because if you’re not one of them you’re
a) lying to yourself or
b) you know or live with one of these humans

There’s no hate here, I want to dedicate this pandemic post to them.
A shout out to each of you little weirdos. Here’s to;
The TicTock superstars. I swear to whoever is listening, if one of you assholes is filming yourself while dancing in the grocery store isle, I’m pushing you over. 2 handed, right into the no name KD shit, I’m not even sorry #dontletitflop
To the Sourdough making Betty’s whipping up 3 loaves a day… I need to know, who's eating it all? The world is fuckin’ gluten free. Smarten up. If I need to hear another grown ass human go on about their “starter” and the “ear” of their sourdough I’m going to lose my mind.
To the Zoom junkies. Is it just me that’s confused on this new love for video chat?
No Chad, I don’t believe you’re watching movies with your long distance girlfriend over Zoom, nobody has the internet provider for that shit. Pullyour head out of your ass!
To the day drinkers. You do you boo boo. Suck back those White Claws and Palm Bay’s without shame. Hold your head as tall as you can while falling off your front porch at 10 am. I salute you.
And finally
To the T-shirt making, tumbler designing, wooden sign painting crafternooners. I’m sorry that you have been bored so far into oblivion that families can’t even throw out a fuckin toilet paper roll without you hoarding it into your craft room like smeagol and his hard on for rings. It’s not rustic, it’s junk... but we still cool.
I love you guys, each and every one of you. Keep on keepin on and all that jazz.

We are here! But what the actual fuck is happening?

6: The Right Fit

noreply@blogger.com (This Girls' Life In Pieces) — Tue, 21 Apr 2020 17:28:00 +0000

Isolation Day Unknown, Captain’s Log…

You know, as it sit here drinking glass of wine number 3, I can’t help but think to myself… self, this is your time to shine!
Basic bitches of the world hear me roar. We were built for this shit! When the proverbial dust clears, our nails won’t need to be filled, our lash game will still be strong, our hair colour will remain impeccable and dammit, our skin will still be of natural pasty colour. Who run the world?!? The esthetics community, don’t fuckin’ fool yourself kid.

Either way, we’ve all had a lot of time to explore the creativity (or lack there of) of our brains and please, for all that is good and holy… Don’t fucking cut your bangs. No, even if it seems easy, no even if your sister did it and it looks amazing. Please don’t. You’ll thank me when you avoid crying on the bathroom floor holding the dead and discarded pieces of what used to be the front 6 inches of your hair.

On a more life in pieces note, isolation has given me a bit of time to write out some of the most eyebrow lifting and forehead slapping moments within my life. I’ve already introduced you to a few of the fantastic faces within the game but I need to tell you about Orchid.
Now, when you think of a strip club, I believe we all have the same picture. Sultry smoky makeup, perfectly groomed mane, a bangin’ body and those unavoidable come fuck me eyes.
Keep in mind this is all before the ugly lights come on at 2 and the girls retreat faster than your Brazilian wax going from bush to bald.

Either way, Orchid didn’t necessarily fit this stereotypical build. She’s what you would call… second string in the ripper world. No disrespect, a working girl needs to work and I’m all for the needs and wants of an independent women.
So as I’ve mentioned, my early days at Pinups was a definite learning curve where I was introduced to all things naked and flailing. At this point in time, I thought I was pretty well versed in stripperage and went about my shifts blind to the stage. I had met Orchid earlier in the night and thought “dam girl, you definitely don’t fit here” but truthfully it didn’t even crack the top 10 things that I gave a shit about.

It’s now quarter to 2 and it’s time for the feature to giddy up on stage. Enter Orchid. Blah blah blah classic stripper music, blah blah blah removal of clothing and men “subtly” re-adjusting while we pretend we don’t notice. From the corner of my eye I catch a decent sized bin placed just off to the side of the stage. Now, I don’t know about you but when a rubber bin enters stage left at the rippers, you look. Clearly.
Let’s play what’s in the box shall we?
Perhaps a whip, some handcuffs, a blindfold or 2, most likely glitter or even an inflatable slip and slide (no lie, I’ve seen it). Unfortunately, you’re wrong on all counts.
My girl pulls out 2 full sized remote controlled trucks complete with a firm but functional purple dildo strapped to the front of it like a sex crazed transformer unicorn.
Yes kids, this is happening. Orchid wastes no time tossing the controllers into the sniffers row while on all fours and without hesitation it’s clearly game on. Just like that, the Mario Cart theme song comes on and I shit you not, there wasn’t one person in the place that wasn’t glued to the stage. Can you blame us?

Can you at least try to picture a fully nude woman crawling around on all fours while 2 dildo strapped RC cars race uncoordinatedly towards the rusty starfish? If that doesn’t stop you in your tracks, you need therapy.

There’s a good chance my face was once again contorted into the classic WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK is happening here look?

In case you’re wondering, there will never be any real winners in this twisted game of poke the bear and there’s no question that the old saying “I’m all in” took on a whole new meaning at the end of her show.
Dam girl, I take it back… you fit.

5: Well That's New

noreply@blogger.com (This Girls' Life In Pieces) — Tue, 31 Mar 2020 17:55:00 +0000

Quarantine Day 11, Captain’s Log…

I have slipped into the point of no return. My pajamas have somehow melded to my body like a Venom suit so I now just put additional clothing over top to spice up my time. I’m about 95% sure I haven’t eaten a vegetable in 5 days, I’ve reverted back to the 90’s and the fanny pack I’ve made for myself is constructed entirely out of highlighted post it notes.
I’ve accepted it.
Work called; apparently, I need to start functioning as a real life digital adult. Don’t they know I have about 1000 other things I’m going to completely ignore throughout this quarantine? Jeez!

Okay but seriously, as I was rocking out to some killer hits of the 90’s (BSB 4 life) I had a random message pop up and it flooded the memory bank. I want to tell all of you about my OG Pinups girl, Gem Stone.
Holy man, where to even begin? Gem Stone was the first peeler veteran that I met when I started at Pinups. She was all about the old school stripper style.
For my more unknowing followers; back in the day, dancers were much more hardcore then they are today. They rocked serious thong tan lines, wild box dyed hair and were not stingy with the stage makeup and black eyeliner. None of this DD rep’n , 10/10 bullshit we see today, who has time for that?
Either way, Gem is one in a million and she’s known up and down these parts for her… shall I say, unique dancing style? Aside from the classic candle wax routine, Gem was notorious for wrestling the poor saps sitting wide-eyed and poker straight in sniffer’s row.
Yes; I’m talking WWE, peoples elbow, pinned for a three count, wrestling. Now, if you can just take a walk with me through invisionland, try to picture a 5’6ish platinum blonde with thick black eyeliner, pretzeling a full-grown man while sporting a neon thong and body glitter. You only need to see it once for it to be forever burned into your amygdala.
For some reason, the guys loved it. It must have been something about being manhandled by a woman that just did them in, but this one particular instance was the match to end all matches.
This night was like every other. Group of guys come in, get drinks, settle in and enjoy the thunder that is Pinups; but this one dude rolls in and I will never forget him. BIGGEST nerd I have ever seen (no hate to my nerds, I love ya).
First thing you need to know about a strip joint... flying solo into the rippers on a Friday night is a sign, and generally not a great one. Homeboy comes in ala himself, sporting none other than a leather jacket, jeans, a backwards velcro hat and a sweet pair of shades. I would even go as far to say he tipped the scales at a whopping 110lbs soaking wet.
Oh, baby Fonzie had arrived!
The guy nestles into a cozy little spot and looks like he just walked into fucking Disneyland. Throughout the night, I can see him trying to flag down the cheaper freelancers for a little one on one lap dance, only to be denied as she had some other sucker to pull money from.
I almost felt bad for the guy. Sucks to suck, but I almost felt bad.
Gem comes on stage and BOOM, she sees the Fonz and knows he’s her target for the show. Why not make the guy's day? A couple songs in, she gives him the ol come-hither, pulling him on stage. Fonzie is in his glory, but this time Gem isn’t going to wrestle a 100 pound man-boy, ooohhh no, she’s going to dip into her bag of tricks #2. Seen it 100 times. Classic Gem Stone.
Slipping off his belt, she ties his hands behind his back to the pole. Now as you can imagine, anyone that can legit wrestle men in heels, can tie a knot, just saying.
Panning around the room resulted in a number of different looks. The guys around the place aren’t sure what’s happening, staff and the regulars are chucking knowing what's to come and Fonzie is living his very best life strapped to a stripper pole on a Friday night.
Before you could say sticky walls, Gem undid his pants and dropped everything to the floor in one fell swoop. There was a unanimous gasp throughout Pinups. Jaws dropped, one lonely scream came from the far side and I shit you not, the music stopped playing instantly.
Ladies and gents, Fonzie was hung like a fucking well-built stallion and he knew it.
What the actual fuck!
Gem Stone, stripper veteran of however many years, literally ran off stage and boy wonder stood there with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. It took a minute or 5 for someone to finally hop up to help untie Bo Dangles and he strut off that stage, balls out and head high if you get my drift.
Every single staff member couldn’t help but say, “did you fucking see that!” and shocking strip club staff is not an easy feat.
This guy was surrounded by girls for the rest of the night and there’s a good chance he wasn’t leaving alone. We salute you Fonz!
I can’t possibly make this shit up.

Tell ya friends, tell ya momma and stick with me. We’re just getting started.

4: Desperate Times

noreply@blogger.com (This Girls' Life In Pieces) — Tue, 24 Mar 2020 16:59:00 +0000

Quarantine Day 4, Captain’s log…
I don’t think I’m going to make it. Even the birds are bored. They don’t even chirp anymore, they just sit there judging me while I take down my 5^th scoop of Nutella.
Remember me as I was, overly dramatic and fucking hilarious.

OK, so here it is. I’m going to deviate from my Pinup’s stories because I just have to share the most recent what the actual moment. I think I’ll nick name this WAM. yeahhhh, I like it.
Either way, the mothership and I just got back from a trip to the Caribbean… Yes I fucking went, don’t judge me. So after a week of sunshine and constant media coverage of COVID, we gear up to head home which as you can imagine, starts at the airport…I feel like everyone reading this just cringed. Relax Karen and for the love of all that is good and holy, put the fucking Lysol down!
Now, if you’re somewhat normal, you most likely people watch and HOT DAM people are a funny breed if you ask me. So here we are, in an open airport that’s actually quite empty and as you can imagine, we’re accompanied by the mask wearing, rubber glove snapping, Purell toting citizens of the world.
Before I continue, I’m in no way saying this virus isn’t a real thing and I do feel as though you should take a few extra precautions… just stay with me here.
In line, keeping a decent distance between us and others (because virus or not, people are gross) I couldn’t help but look around at the different “types” of people and my eyes zeroed in on a group of youngin’s travelling home after a week of what I can assume consisted of partying and pussy…sorry mom, but it’s true. This group of go get’ers just so happened to be all male and each of them sported the classic mask and glove duo (collect the whole set). As I got a bit closer, I couldn’t help but see a discernible pattern that majority of these young fellows was sporting. Cascading down the side of their necks was none other than a plethora of freshly busted blood vessels otherwise known as a fuck ton of hickeys!!! Believe it people.
I obnoxiously laughed aloud for all to hear. It was an uncontrollable reaction that my frontal lobe made without consulting any other part of my brain. I’m almost certain that if you couldn’t hear my laugh, you saw the confused look on my face and both my arms thrown in the air exhausted by the constant tomfoolery (stolen from Mr. Sheldon Cooper).
What the actual fuck?
I’m so glad we all understand the severity of COVID- 19 and are taking the proper precautions to strap on the mask and gloves while social distancing. I guess I didn’t read the fine print of the virus…
*Omit all precautions in the event the opposite sex seems remotely interested in salivating up and down your neck or playing a little game we all call, just the tip.
In the game of Herpes, COVID or the Clap… you apparently have a 2/3 chance that everything will be resolved with ointments and penicillin. Silver lining!!!
Somebody, please esssssplain this to me.

Y’all need education in ya lives STAT!
I’m sorry, but is it just me that laughed uncontrollably while shaking my head? Kids these days… no imagination.
If you have a What the Actual Fuck: COVID edition, please send it. I’m dying to hear about it.

3: The Eye Opener

noreply@blogger.com (This Girls' Life In Pieces) — Tue, 10 Mar 2020 18:50:00 +0000

Funny the way memories hit you. Is it just me, or does anyone else ever get a rush of memories your brain was clearly suppressing? Just doing your thang when BAM. A blast from the past literally makes you say what the actual fuck!
After meeting the ladies of the bar I began my first of many shifts at Pinups and to be brutally honest, I had no idea what the fuck I was doing. When you go from a basic bitch ordering whiskey sours and rum and cokes to gathering, memorizing, making, serving and collecting money with literally every one of your senses (including the creep factor sense) firing at rocket pace…it can be a biiiiiiit much for a rookie.
Wrapping up my first night at Pinups, I thought I was doing well. Feeling out the customer’s vibe and trying desperately not to make eye contact with the girls giving lap dances, I navigated around my section playing the role of new kid in town. Later in my Pinup “career”, I truly enjoyed working there but night one was a tough go.
I know it may seem super ridiculous, but I had never been in a strip joint before. Have you ever tried having a conversation with or taking a drink order from a girl whose buck ass naked, dancing all up on a guy? Where the fuck do you look! No, not her eyes, she’s too fucked up to see straight (ok then), you can’t look behind her because then you see the guy she’s dancing for literally staring at her brown eye (super awkward) and you certainly can’t look around because it’s the same shit everywhere (rows on rows). I felt like that person that doesn’t know what to do with their hands during a conversation so you just hold them in front of you with a look of please forgive me, I don’t know what I’m doing with myself.
What the actual! I digress.
It wasn’t until I fucked up one of my orders that I got a taste of what the next 4 years would look like and a peek at the beast that was soon to be awoken inside my soul. I unknowingly gave a customer white rum and coke as opposed to amber rum and coke and he went off on me… I mean OFF. Picture this… I would be considered on the shorter side so already I’m at a serious disadvantage here. Buddy Joe takes a sip of the amber and is insta pissed. He literally stands up and the giant veinenstein on the side of his large bulbous head, basically sticks its blue finger out at me and reads me the riot act. In a packed bar with the music going and a naked woman on stage, he still turned heads losing his ever loving shit. As a result of his serious roid rage and potential need for a hug, I took the drink, went back to the bar and dipped into the back room. Wouldn’t you know it, I actually cried! Nobody had ever yelled at me like that and he was an enormous human being to boot. At one point in the yelling fiasco, there was a split second I thought he would actually pop me with a swift backhand over amber rum of all things. While trying to cool off and get my game face back on, Mel came around and got all the info she needed. That chick literally marched onto the floor with the look of crazy wrapped around allllllll around her face. She stepped right in front of roid monkey and just laid into him. I couldn’t help but watch with the most dumbass look on my face. Holy shit… You can do that?! Fuck yes, it’s on.
I couldn’t hear all of what she said but when she came back to the bar she casually went back to making the drink she started after giving me a wink and the nod to get my ass back to work. Dam girl, okaaaay. See post 2 regarding no girl left hanging.
Side note, that was the start of a beautiful friendship between Mel and I.
Beef cake offered to walk me to my car and apologized to me later on in the night… I didn’t even know what to say to him. What the hell do you say? Getting into my car I could only say the classic line regarding that night.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
That was it for me. I knew from that day onward, nobody would do that for me again, and it was finally time in my life that I could unleash the fury when I needed to and you better believe I did.
Interestingly enough, the customers weren’t even the most fucked up part of the job. Every one of those girls lived up to the “entertainer” title in one way or another.
Best part of the job? Those memories I was talking about. The ones that just pop out of nowhere forcing you to write a blog just so others can experience them too.

From mousetraps to puppets, bar brawls to remote control trucks with dildos strapped to them, I have seen it all, heard it all and had the most dynamite time along the way. Tell me you’re not intrigued…

2: Starting the Party

noreply@blogger.com (This Girls' Life In Pieces) — Tue, 03 Mar 2020 16:22:00 +0000

Gearing up for blog number 2 and I’m pumped to just let it all out… Where do I even start? I’ve uttered the worlds “what the actual fuck”, a fuckload of times (yes that’s an accurate unit of measurement), but now I just feel like; how will anyone really grasp the tomfuckery that I have had the privilege of experiencing? Well, I figured I would start with the easiest target…
My days working as a waitress at a strip club.

Picture North, then go North of that, North of that, North of that, then finally a little bit more North. That’s where I landed. Drops pin.

Skipping over the how’s and whys of me working at the bar (we’ll call it Pinups for the sake of the story), I have to say working there was where it ALL started and I loved every minute of the absolute fucking mayhem it contributed to my life. It’s messed up I know.

My first ever shift was the thing anxiety attacks are made of. I’m only 19 at the time, I had just moved away from home to go to University, I’m not much of a drinker and I’m really trying to just fit in and make some money.
Night number one starts off with meeting some of the most badass bartending bitches around. These girls could hold their own with the customers, booze and narcotics, all while seemingly acting sweet and making a buck or two along the way. Nobody gave a shit about the new kid. There was no training, no hand holding and they weren’t afraid to tell you to smarten the fuck up with the back of their hand if they had to… it was great.

Meet Mya. Veteran bartender whose life mission is to make as many people cry and bow down as possible (queen bitch). She didn’t need to remind you that she was in charge and wasn’t shy with the opiates. People knew her, she knew people and nobody fucked around… Awesome.

Meet Mel, don’t give a fuck attitude and is just coming off her pill party days. Mel had the amazing ability to bitch and complain about literally anything but when push came to shove, this was her element and she thrived in it. She knew literally everyone and had a party story attached to everyone she introduced me to… Wicked.

Meet Callie. Vet bartender #2 (second in command). Callie has no time for literally any bullshit and given the chance, would probably cut a bitch. Callie, like Mel, is slllllowly coming off her party days and is pretty pissed about it. From what I heard about her past, Callie could hold her own at a party and seemed to know all the right people…Dynamite.

Finally, meet Lisa. Party goer, supplier and resident time bomb (box of chocolates kind... you never know what you're gonna get). Lisa had no problem ripping a line or two throughout the night and I didn’t understand how she pulled so much money until a few weeks later. Lisa had the connections and everyone knew it. Even the fuzz.
I remember standing outside with Lisa at the end of a night and a fight broke out… not uncommon. But the chick in the middle had slept with someone’s boyfriend’s cousin twice removed and Lisa was ready to thrrrrrooooowwwww down. When the shit kicker of the group tells you to get ready; you take off your earrings, jump in next to her and utter “what the actual fuck” to yourself. You never know when you’ll need her so keep the heavy hitters happy, just in case… Beauty.

So this was us, the most fucked up team of ladies that you ever did meet. We all worked in the same bar but went about our business separately. Waitresses didn’t cross over into another’s section, bartenders didn’t come onto the floor and nobody (and I mean nobody) left another girl hanging. Bar Law!

I felt like that newcomer kid in the old school mob movies. Young and reserved, taken on by the big shots, getting introduced to an entirely new way of life, world about to be flipped.
When I think back to it, there’s a good chance I should have ended up in the hospital for running my big mouth in that place later on, but it never happened and aside from the endless stream of regular Rodgers walking, crawling and snorting their way through that place, the non-stop cycle of daddy-issue dancers took the proverbial cake hands down. Get it guuuurl!

These beauties are just the tip of the iceberg kids. I want to walk you through some of the more memorable times at Pinups so stick with me and I’ll teach you a thing or 2 about my bar days.

I know... what the actual fuck...

1: Here I Go

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 25 Feb 2020 17:53:00 +0000

Sometimes I'm not even sure how I ended up the way I did, but to be fair, I then go and do something ridiculous like not move across the world and adventure the shit out of things and I think to myself, ahhh there it is. Score one.

I've been sitting here for a few days now, contemplating what the fuck I'm supposed to be when I grow up and I've actually come up with a few options.
A) Executive Director for the Prostitutional Arts (Hooker Boss- That would be a great license plate)
B) C.E.O Municipal Asshole (Interim Role)
C) Teacher (no hate, I actually am a Teacher)
D) C.O.O Strategist for World Domination
Not to be a glass half full kind of person, but where you see ridiculousness, I see leadership opportunities. Just saying...

I often sit back and think to myself.. self, what the actual fuck is happening in your life... where are you going, what do you want, what day of the week is it, how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?!
To tell you the truth, between you and I, I have no fuckin' clue. Except the chucking wood thing, I don't think very far.

Yes, many of you may be thinking okay, so what the hell are you writing about? The answer is simple. Absolutely nothing and really hoping others see the value in this. Sometimes we just need to vent. Useless, unidirectional expelling of thoughts because dam, life comes at ya as fast as the first time you ever woke up to a sticky mess.

I'm in no way someone that has it all together in any way shape or form but I feel like I have a few great ideas here and there, if nothing else, hopefully I can at least reach a human or 2 that has thought the same things to themselves.

So after 35 seconds of your life down the tube, I dedicate my blog to all the times in my life past, present and future in which I say, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

Enjoy it.