Comments by Mainster (page 3)

A, B, D in a dead heat, with C choking on their dust. I wouldn't throw rocks at any of them, of course. Well, maybe at C.

Crip, in your case, it might not be an accident.

I feel I should add that last cookie season, a troop set up a sales table in a strip mall just two doors down from a marijuana dispensary. Tell me that's not fucking BRILLIANT.

Step One, buy Thin Mints. Step Two, bring them into the club ad open them at your table. Step Three, prepare to be swamped by ALL the bitches, because women can smell unopened Thin Mints that are buried under the Tater Tots in the fucking freezer. The smell of their own vanilla body spray will not cover the aroma of the Thin Mints.

20 years ago, those things were an indication that it was Saturday morning. Or any of the other mornings.

At that kid's age I know what an indiscriminate, rolling ball of hormones I was... but I was NEVER that indiscriminate.

Wow, this is White Knight Syndrome gone even more horribly awry than usual.

>Sometimes fisting happens, I've seen it happen.< And sometimes it doesn't happen to nosy-ass LEOs.

What happens in Vegas VIPs? Bible study and bake sales, with the proceeds going to support local LEO charities. You can thank them next time you drop in to look for violations, OP.

Locally, the Kilt is drawing way better talent than Hooters. Kitchen staff at both chains breaks the same shit on a very regular basis, so I get to visit them each periodically, and always clock out for lunch. On my own time, I'll visit the Kilt by myself without any qualms; my trouble with Hooters is that the food is about a C-, despite how nice the scenery may be.

Apply this template- Is it female? Is it wearing heels? Potential, even probable, ROB. You're welcome.

On the same day, in the same club, "Amos Moses" and "Spirit In The Sky." Apparently a customer wanted to hear the tunes and the poor girl just had to roll with it. There's a girl at the Candy Store these days who gets to dance to Elvis' "Devil In Disguise" at least once a shift because her pet whale thinks the tune suits her. I had a long-ago CF that would do burlesque-style routines to whatever caught her fancy; one of the best was "Dr. Longjohn," a Bette Midler tune. I think "Hell's Bells" was still in the top 40 at the time, so you can say she had some pretty eclectic tastes.

They could call it Gulper.

I've seen a girl curl up on stage and go to sleep- I mean go into the fetal position, rest her head on her arm and check out. I've seen two pass out, one of whom took a header off the stage without regaining consciousness.

I caught a girl trying to sneak a roll of bills from my shirt pocket about midway through a lapper, and called her on it loudly enough to turn every head in the club. She told the bouncer I was accusing her of theft because she refused to suck my dick. I decided to leave, and the bitch had the gall to tell the bouncer to shake me down for the half-completed dance.

I did an emergency rent loan for a CF once, way back when I still had that new PL smell on me. I was promised a "half and half" payback- some money, some playtime. The stipulation was that I wasn't supposed to mention the arrangement to anyone in the club. I agreed. The girl dropped off the earth for a few days and wasn't answering her phone, so I headed to the club to see if she intended to make either half of the payment. She wasn't there, so I decided to have a beer and watch some girls. One of her friends sat with me and asked if I was there to see the CF, and informed me that everybody in the club knew I'd bailed the CF out when the landlord came knocking, and knew the terms of payment. I eventually got the money back, but never received the fun portion. On reflection, it was probably just as well.

I'm putting my money on the guy in the mirror.

Food court at Epcot Center, for sure.

Seems like getting PLs to get to to the club all at the the same time, and ON time, is as tough as getting strippers to get to the club all at the same time, and on time. That said, if this thing gels up I might be able to do Friday afternoon, maybe Saturday afternoon or evening.

OP, just don't do it, you welfare case. Go club poor somewhere else.

I can't recall her real name, and I'm too lazy to look it up, but in the 40s there was an actress known as "The Black Dahlia" who apparently had this condition. She was drop-dead gorgeous and enjoyed the attention (and clothes, and shoes, and meals, etc) she got from guys, but couldn't deliver at the end of the date. It may be what got her murdered.

But look at her teeth..... in England, that turns her up from a 5 to an 11!

My mom started a fire in the backyard by trying to make sun tea. The glass gallon jar focused the sunlight onto some dry grass and kindled a fairly merry blaze. She was sufficiently on the ball to be able to knock it down with a garden hose. In Phoenix, everydamnbody drives around with water those bulk-packed clear plastic bottles in their car. I think the greater danger lies in letting the water get warm in that plastic bottle, then drinking the water after God-knows-what chemicals have leached into it.

I have recognized two strippers working at local Sports Clips, and had a great chat with a stylist who bailed on the clubs to become a stylist and tattoo artist.

No tits? This interview is concluded. We'll call you if there's an opening.