Sometimes The Worst Things In Life Are Free

NOTE: This post was specially-contributed by Grand Masta Caspa

And so it begins. Once again I am back with a story that no one will believe (with the exception of a few people who know the story of my life and my luck). So for those who did not know I just started a new job working with a company called MarketSource. The basic idea and objective behind my job is simple; I am the person who trains the Nokia reps who try to sell you phones at Best Buys and the such. Well as with any new employee I was to be trained as to how to do my job. To be trained properly I had to be flown down to the “Dirty South” aka “Hotlanta, GA.” For those who don’t live with me, I had mixed emotions about going. On one hand I was excited to be starting a new job and on the other I was bummed about having to spend 10-12 hours in a conference room, sitting classroom style, with 40 other new employees, learning the world of telecommunications over a span of 4 days.

I arrived in Hotlanta on Monday afternoon. I was to be driven to the Marriot Hotel in Alpharetta, GA by 2 Canadian female co-workers. My expectations are exactly as follows: 2 bobbleheads saying nothing but “eh” and “aboot.” Well to my surprise when I called them to meet up with them, they were already resting nicely at the Marriot; they did not know they were supposed to wait for me. No problem, I’ll hop in a cab. Well this did become a problem. While minding my own business in the back of a ragged old Jeep Cherokee, I noticed that my driver (a 75 year old skinny black man, imagine Method Man’s dad on How High but much darker) had Yosemite Sam floor mats and (here comes the zinger) a picture placed on the dashboard, of himself, on his hands and knees in nothing but a zebra print g-string (pause for utter disbelief and/or laughter). My solution: a completely silent cab ride at a total of $85.

Day one consisted of meeting your co-workers over an open bar. My take on the event; dumb except for co-worker (Rueben, from Houston) with whom I would get into trouble with over the next few days and the opportunity for me to get drunk for free.

Day two was a lengthy one consisting of one really long boring meeting. The only saving grace was that we visited what may now be my favorite restaurant, Fire of Brazil. Fire of Brazil is the Atkins dieters dream. Basic premise of this restaurant is to stuff every person with as much meat as humanly possible. We were offered 13 different meats (roasted chicken, bacon wrapped chicken, ham, pork tenderloin, pork ribs, pork roast, pork shoulder, beef tips, beef ribs, beef kabobs, filet mignon, steak kabobs, and sausage). The meat is served on swords, by what appeared to be male slaves with large knives. Regardless of the male slaves, I ate the shit out of some meat. After gorging myself nearly to death with meat, Rueben and I decided to hit up the Cheetah Club (described to me by most in the hotel staff to be a great gentleman’s club with many single female women). WHAT IS TO FOLLOW MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR ALL READERS.

We approach and enter the Cheetah Club as many before us have done and as many more will probably continue to do. While in the Cheetah Club I decided to pay for a seemingly harmless lap dance. The fee: $25. The dancer, whose name was “Heaven,” appeared more anxious to give a lap dance to Rueben than one to me. Now I have been to many strip clubs and have seen many men who drop loads of cash on these dancers because they think they have a chance to go home with them. I have always walked into these places with the mindset that I am helping these ladies out by paying for their college tuition or their bastard children. Now for some odd reason I got the feeling that “Heaven” actually had a thing for Rueben. I decided to help my fellow man out and pay for his lap dance because he seemed a little bit nervous about the endeavor. When I expressed my interest in purchasing a dance for Rueben “Heaven” whispers in my ear, “Why don’t we take this in back and I’ll grab my twin sister. This one will be on me.”

They proceed to the V.I.P. room and on their way back Heaven motions to her twin sister to join them. Heaven sits him down and proceeds with her stripper ways. One thing begins to lead to another and the next thing he know her hand is in his pants.

Enter her twin sister from behind Rueben. Her twin sister (whose name I do not know) begins to rub his shoulder and head with her hand. Heaven then tells her twin sister to switch positions and take over where she left off. As Heaven walks to his backside she tells him to watch her, so he does as he’s told when he feel something weird in his pants. Rueben looks forward to find that her twin sister is MISSING HER FREAKING LEFT HAND. That’s right MISSING HER FREAKING LEFT HAND. HOLY SHIT. At this point Rueben screamed like a girl and bolted for the emergency exit, setting off the fire alarm. I’m just saying that is nothing wrong with missing body parts, but YOU CAN NOT BE A STRIPPER and most importantly YOU CAN’T BE SOMEONE’S TWIN IF THEY’RE MISSING A BODY PART AND YOU ARE NOT.

Long story short, worst strip club experience ever and poor Rueben may be scarred for life.

30 thoughts on “Sometimes The Worst Things In Life Are Free

  1. i liked the pulp fiction version better where you start if off by leaving the club due to the fire alarm, find rueben, explain how you know him and what you’ve been through the past few days, and then explain why he was bolting around the cheetah parking lot in a rented hyundai, crying.

    good show.

  2. The pulp fiction version is a lot easier to tell as a story in a face to face setting or in film. This is all I could do with it in blog format. Sorry

  3. hi… i have a question for all you computer professionals out there.

    Would it be hard to put together a weblog like this one… & have it be on SFTP? Something like this, but you’d need a password to log on??

    How much does the space cost for this??

    Is it hard to run?

    Thanks

  4. Check out Blogger or Movable Type, I think they have free blog service. You don’t need to know anything about programming; it just gets set up for you.

  5. hey zach,
    my boss wants to set one up for us, and some people in Germany. She wants it to be set with a password so that you have to log in to be able to read or to post…????

  6. You could look into vBulletin software. It’s fairly comprehensive as far as permissions and such go.

  7. All conversations since lunchtime have involved the words “poking the chip”, “penis”, and the topic of “what percent of 20-25 year olds are not virgins” It’s a great day.

  8. Randy is bringing our percentage of 20-25 year-olds who have had sex down. Way down. Down to the ground. Bend-over-to-the-front-and-touch-your-toes down.

  9. My estimate is 85% have had sex. Randy getting married so he can start having sex, he won’t mess with our percentages much longer.

    Erin, we only have to pretend to work for 90 more minutes before we can leave for the game.

  10. Serious question: what is the difference between an iBook and a Powerbook? Which do you have Wirkus?
    Which one should I get for law school? If I have a docking station at home, can I get the Yao Ming little baby size for school?

    HELP!

  11. jen… seriously. it doesn’t matter.

    buy the cheapest laptop you can find. you don’t need anything better.

  12. GMC I was very entertained by your story, but I have been trying to figure out the motive behind the “twins”. Did Heaven truly like Rueben or was it just a trick to gross him out? Cause you would think that if she really wanted to give him a special treat then she wouldn’t have sicked the stripper with the missing arm on him, right? Or maybe Down South it is an exra special treat, like a delicacy to get your wang rubbed by a nub. Maybe he didn’t wait long enough to enjoy it.

  13. you don’t think it would feel good to get your penis rubbed by a sexy stripper’s nub? She’s still stimulting your penis, why does it have to be a hand with fingers?

  14. If I hear the president say “um” one more goddamn time I am going to hang myself by my underpants

  15. Bellgirl –

    I don’t really think that Heaven thought that her twin rubbing his nub with her nub was going to be a problem. So my belief is that yes in Hotlanta getting your nub rubbed by another is a “treat.”

    On a further note for any other strippers with a “twin,” you have to look EXACTLY the same if you claim to be a twin. One can not be missing a hand (see disclaimer below).

    (DISCLAIMER: I know certain people are going to jump in and try to “teach” me about twins due to their nature of having to preach. I already know there are two types of twins: monozygotic/MZ and dizygotic/DZ, better known as identical and fraternal twins. So if anyone wants to correct me on this statement, keep it to yourself because the above comment IS close-minded. But in my fantasy world I think all twins look exactly the same even though I know better in my educated mind.)

  16. remember how i missed seeing barry bonds break mays’ home run record AND podsednik steal a base?

    fuck.

    just catching up on messages now:

    “extra ticket… come to game…”

    classic. anyway, hope you all had a good time – if i have grandchildren will you tell them about it? thanks.

    well, i guess i did get to hear the president say “um” like forty bazillion times. dude is seriously dumb.

    wow.

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