xx
Okay, okay, so you somehow figured out I was Pagan. Fine. I don't really care. Yes, I laughed rather forcedly at your 'joke' of how you 'have to show [me] the path to the light of Jesus Christ'.
Haha, very funny.
Whats not funny, though, is you grasping my arm, staring at me, and repeating over and over that I need the light and love of the Lord in my life. That I need to find Jesus. That I shall burn in hell for all of eternity. Then laughing.
Quick fact check-
1. I don't care.
2. You're in a strip club.
3. My faith is my faith. Yours is yours. I don't mock your beliefs, don't mock mine.
4. While we're on the subject, I don't push my beliefs on you, so don't push yours on me.
5. You're the same guy who, while being -soooo- religious, gladly paid money to have a dancer at another club give you a handjob.
6. More recently, you're the same guy who shoved his hand up another dancers coochie.
And lucky #7. I am not required to be nice to you, at all, if you're a dick to me. You were thisclose to getting tossed. I'm glad you finally stopped your preachy bullshit, but c'mon now. It should have never started.
And you there-weight asshole. Yes, you. Yes, I do remember your lame ass. No, I -still- do not weigh 200lbs.
I don't outweigh you, not by a long shot.
Saying 'No way...' and -marveling- at that fact does not earn you any points in my book.
And you stupid goddamned kids, get -away- from the jukebox. Seriously. It's not for you, its for the dancers to pick music on. And no, I won't leave on the music you put in. Its my turn on stage, and I shall dance to what I wish. Had you picked something maybe -worth- dancing to, I would have, but I do not consider the I-95 (I'm an Asshole) song to be terribly sexy dance music.
Quit bugging me when I am at the -dancers table-, under the big honking red -POSITIVELY NO TALKING TO THE DANCERS- sign. Quit telling me to smile. And after I ignore you, stop running up to me every time I try to go around for tips and asking if I'm 'pissed' at you. No, I wasn't at first, but I'm fucking getting there because you keep BUGGING ME RARDIESTAB.
thx,
Robin.
Haha, very funny.
Whats not funny, though, is you grasping my arm, staring at me, and repeating over and over that I need the light and love of the Lord in my life. That I need to find Jesus. That I shall burn in hell for all of eternity. Then laughing.
Quick fact check-
1. I don't care.
2. You're in a strip club.
3. My faith is my faith. Yours is yours. I don't mock your beliefs, don't mock mine.
4. While we're on the subject, I don't push my beliefs on you, so don't push yours on me.
5. You're the same guy who, while being -soooo- religious, gladly paid money to have a dancer at another club give you a handjob.
6. More recently, you're the same guy who shoved his hand up another dancers coochie.
And lucky #7. I am not required to be nice to you, at all, if you're a dick to me. You were thisclose to getting tossed. I'm glad you finally stopped your preachy bullshit, but c'mon now. It should have never started.
And you there-weight asshole. Yes, you. Yes, I do remember your lame ass. No, I -still- do not weigh 200lbs.
I don't outweigh you, not by a long shot.
Saying 'No way...' and -marveling- at that fact does not earn you any points in my book.
And you stupid goddamned kids, get -away- from the jukebox. Seriously. It's not for you, its for the dancers to pick music on. And no, I won't leave on the music you put in. Its my turn on stage, and I shall dance to what I wish. Had you picked something maybe -worth- dancing to, I would have, but I do not consider the I-95 (I'm an Asshole) song to be terribly sexy dance music.
Quit bugging me when I am at the -dancers table-, under the big honking red -POSITIVELY NO TALKING TO THE DANCERS- sign. Quit telling me to smile. And after I ignore you, stop running up to me every time I try to go around for tips and asking if I'm 'pissed' at you. No, I wasn't at first, but I'm fucking getting there because you keep BUGGING ME RARDIESTAB.
thx,
Robin.