(no subject)
WHO: Skip Blumstein (THE WOOD PIG) and Rose Bloom (THE UNGRATEFUL DWARF).
WHEN: Sunday morning, ten past three.
WHERE: NYC. Yeah, I'm THAT specific.
WHAT: Hatingz on the world.
RATING: R.
Jesus fucking Christ, why the FUCK did that shit have to stain? Standing in the employee bathroom, viciously scrubbing her jacket, that was the LAST FUCKING TIME anyone got a happy ending at work when she was wearing clothes that WEREN'T owned by the bar. Fucking hell. Tap running, well worn coat partly under water, she was still using fat-Karen's toothbrush to rub off the unfortunate mark when the clock said five past three. What the fuck ever. Like Skip couldn't entertain himself outside of a strip club for five minutes. In fact, she'd be worried about ANY male that couldn't entertain themselves outside of a strip club for at LEAST a few hours.
Having changed out of the diamante studded excuse for clothing the moment she'd finished receiving a hefty 'tip' from the owner of the stain, she was now back in her usual attire of something just that little bit more covering than a bejeweled bikini. And gloves. That was right, she'd learned from the little stroll with Mike weeks previous. But having finished holding her jacket under the hand-dryer (and chucking fat-Karen's toothbrush back by the sink), it was ten minutes later when she finally made her way outside to meet her date. Well, sort-of date. General buddy of hating the world, was more like it.
WHEN: Sunday morning, ten past three.
WHERE: NYC. Yeah, I'm THAT specific.
WHAT: Hatingz on the world.
RATING: R.
Jesus fucking Christ, why the FUCK did that shit have to stain? Standing in the employee bathroom, viciously scrubbing her jacket, that was the LAST FUCKING TIME anyone got a happy ending at work when she was wearing clothes that WEREN'T owned by the bar. Fucking hell. Tap running, well worn coat partly under water, she was still using fat-Karen's toothbrush to rub off the unfortunate mark when the clock said five past three. What the fuck ever. Like Skip couldn't entertain himself outside of a strip club for five minutes. In fact, she'd be worried about ANY male that couldn't entertain themselves outside of a strip club for at LEAST a few hours.
Having changed out of the diamante studded excuse for clothing the moment she'd finished receiving a hefty 'tip' from the owner of the stain, she was now back in her usual attire of something just that little bit more covering than a bejeweled bikini. And gloves. That was right, she'd learned from the little stroll with Mike weeks previous. But having finished holding her jacket under the hand-dryer (and chucking fat-Karen's toothbrush back by the sink), it was ten minutes later when she finally made her way outside to meet her date. Well, sort-of date. General buddy of hating the world, was more like it.