Rubbish: 1. Garbage. 2: "Crappy"
You will have to forgive me. See, I have a friend from England who uses this word a lot and I didn't know when I would get a chance to use it without looking like a complete douche, or a person that was desperately trying to sell some new found vernacular upon my family and friends. The other day when I asked my friend what the deal was with that puertorican waitress that I hooked him up with he said, "Hell mate, all she did was talk about your bloody ass the whole time, but I tapped that though". Me, pausing, trying to figure out if it was alright for me to ask about the quality of said booty, was interrupted by him when he said, "It was rubbish, let me tell you!" which made me giggle like a school girl for a few minutes.
So the other night I found myself in a strip club, getting a lap dance from a girl who had obviously just started her career based on her very nonrhythmic movements and that "I can't believe I'm wearing clear heels" look on her face. Usually I would have just moved on to the next girl, a more experienced girl that would leave me with an even bigger pair of blue balls, rivaling the cartoon character "Nutsack Smurf", but I just kept giving her more of my money.(OK, "Nutsack Smurf" wasn't a character, but didn't you wonder which smurf kept smurfette satisfied enough to not become the town whore. Or was she the town whore, but the animators of said show decided to edit it "selectively". Sorry for the rant) I don't know what I expected, it wasn't like she would be like the character in "Footloose" where she turns into someone that had two left feet into Debbie Allen or some shit. But after 4 dances, 2 Reggae-ton songs, a Lil John song, and a Mike Jones song, my irritation of hearing that nonsense along with my "soldier" that was only at semi-attention, I blurted out "You are rubbish at your job!!" She stopped dancing, glared at me with a look of disgust which turned into one of frustration, asking me "Is rubbish a good thing??" I smiled and said, "Yes, its very complimentary", sitting back down to pay good money to let a woman I didn't know rub her crotch on me. Besides thinking about how she represented strippers in a negative light because of her ignorance, the many hours I would spend trying to scrub her stench off of me, I also wondered about all the people that I come in contact with that are also "rubbish" at their jobs.
Movie Ticket Girl: Like many of you who read this boring blog already know, I go to the movies so much that I might as well work there. I can see a movie regardless of the genre except for horror, not because the scripts are lacking or because they are predictable, but because I am a big pussy. Anyway, I go to this one theater by my house to the point that I know most of the employees by name. When I walk in I keep expecting to hear the "Cheers" theme song come on("Everybody knows your name..") , even a few of them forgetting my real name and calling me "Norm" and shit. I don't have a problem with anyone there except the ticket girl named Shante. Shante must be like 20 years old, and she has a body that would be best suited for a Nelly music video, but she is the worst ticket girl to have ever existed throughout the history of man. Listen, I know what you're thinking, it is a minimum wage job that peoples lives aren't dependent on, but at least she could put out some sort of effort. My theory is, besides giving back correct change and the correct ticket, the only other task her job requires is to keep the fucking line moving. That's it. But Shante, besides her constantly giving you incorrect change on a regular basis, chews gum in a way that you want to break through the glass and choke the living shit out of her. Not only that, she acts like she has all day, talking to her co-workers, eating food, while there is a line of 30 people deep in front of her. Usually I would complain, tell the managers what kind of inept employee they have and to get rid of her immediately
But there are a couple of problems with me doing that. First of all she likes me, to the point that she unbuttons her shirt a couple of buttons exposing her sinful cleavage and says that me having dreadlocks is "sexy as shit". To an insecure, shallow prick in search of validation like myself, that is enough to keep me from snitching about her to her superiors. The sad thing is that I am a hypochondriac and too paranoid about catching some sort of new genital bird flu, and her age being a bit of a problem, that I will never get to have a "hate fuck" session with her where I tell her how lousy she is at her job. Also, I don't want to contribute to the black unemployment numbers in any way possible. So, she is indeed horrible at her job, but as long as no one else complains then I guess she will be looking sexy doing it.(or not doing it.)
Stan the Pimp: Did I ever tell you that I have a friend that fashions himself a "pimp", sort of. OK, he does have women in his "stable" that he makes have sex for money, but the disrespect thrown in his direction by his workers are very "un-pimp" like. I have known Stan for years and he has always been a entrepreneur of sorts, but this is one venture that he need to vacate immediately. For one thing, either his "girls" look too young(some guys like that) or they are as used up as the decrepit sponge on your sink that you use to wash your dishes with. He has offered some of them to me, even the other day saying "Come on HumanityCritic, I will give you to her half off!!" I don't know about you, but when it comes to inserting a part of your body into someone elses, the last thing you want is a fucking discount. Besides, I'm a germaphobe who would spend about a years worth of doctors visits making sure that I wasn't as diseased as the monkey in "Outbreak" if I was with any of them. The other day sealed the deal when I was playing pool with a friend of mine and saw Stan with one of his "girls", who was fine as shit. I was feeling frisky, started talking shit to the woman in question, but literally started running when that broad licked the side of my face. Her tongue was like sandpaper, like a cat's, to the point that I went back to my friend and said that her tongue was "as grainy as the zapruder film!"(Peace Iselfra) Besides the quality, or lack-thereof of his women, they show him disrespect that I thought pimps shouldn't put up with. They call him an "asshole", they give him a very low percentage of the money they earn, sometimes not paying him at all. He insists that he has things under control when I say, in a very pimp voice, "You betta keep your hoes in check like they're on the payroll!", but his girls are pimping him it seems. Granted, if I was a pimp I wouldn't beat on women primarily because of it being wrong and cowardice, but I would at least scare the shit out of them. But then again, I would never be a pimp so why am I even going there??
The Local Newsman: This one shouldn't really count because the gentleman in question is decent at his particular job, but I'm trying to find out if I should extort him. Let me explain. There is a local black newsman here who has been working at one of our local television stations for at least 5 years. He's kind of corny but he does a pretty decent job, but he always irritated the shit out of my because it looked like Stevie Wonder, while on a heroin binge, cut his motherfucking hair. I guess it wouldn't be so bad if it was a hairpiece, but the fact that this thing that resembled the hair on a baboons ass was sitting on top of his head was naturural was somewhat distressing. I used to turn the channel immediately because it was just so damn difficult to look at, it got to the point that I said that I would curse him the fuck out if I ever saw his non metrosexual ass. Fast forward a few years and I go to a party that my home-girl Joy is throwing, she is a hairstylist. I go to the party, mixed with ghetto fabulous hairstylists, gay hairstylists, it was a pretty mixed bag. Who do I see sitting on a couch, hugged up with two pretty young looking dudes but that motherfucking newsman with the horrible hair. Pretty drunk, knowing that I wanted to call him out on his bad taste in barbers, while pointing I could only muster the following drivel out of my mouth:" Yo, Yo!! Hahaha! YO, Yo!!" Looking back I didn't really understand the horrified look on his face until recently.
I have seen him at a few sports bars that I frequent and he has made it his business to casually converse with me, and try to buy me and whoever I am with drinks. I was wondering where the kindness was coming from, until one time he asked, "You aren't going to tell anyone that I'm gay right? You looked like you were going to tell the world that night at your friends party." Thinking back on how "Yo, Yo!! Hahaha! YO, Yo!!" would have looked to a locally famous closeted gay man I said: "I don't give a fuck if you are gay or not, I just want to know who cuts your motherfucking hair man!!" Then I ushered him to a near-by mirror and said, "No one has told you about this?? If people said that your hairstyle looks good, well, motherfucker they aren't your friends!!" He giggled nervously, as to imply that he would take my disrespect as long as I didn't "out" him. But now it sucks because he doesn't buy me or my crew drinks anymore when I see him out, I guess that is one of the downsides to not being a homophobe.
Rob the Bouncer: Personally, I could never be a bouncer because I simply have the wrong temperament for it. A bouncer, just like a martial arts discipline, should be used as a last resort. I could see myself popping someone in the mouth for being too loud, or arguing, or just standing too fucking close to me. I couldn't be one because I'm too aggressive, but Rob is "rubbish" at his job because he is too passive. It is my theory that if you see two people in a heated argument destined for fisticuffs, that you as the bouncer walk up and throw one of them out. That simple. Not Rob, he will let the two individuals argue the whole night, he might separate them only to have them arguing again later. One night when I wasn't at the bar a guy was causing trouble, and instead of beating the brakes off of that bastard, Rob called the cops. Cops?? Calling the boys in blue is only reserved for armed gunmen ready to go on a killing spree, not some drunk hillbilly upset that his Billy Ray Cyrus album has gone missing. Another time some drunk asshole was in Rob's face for about 15 minutes, talking shit to him while damn near threatening his life. I think I embarrassed Rob when I grabbed a chair and broke over the back of the man in question, screaming "Put that motherfucker down Rob!! What are you waiting for!!" Rob is a great guy, but he needs to think about getting into another line of work, like a Priest of a Yoga instructor.