Me: I want to go home
Manager: Can't you just stay and sell one more dance?
Me: You do realize I've already made up my mind, I'm tired, I'm crabby, and I don't see any sales in my future.
Manager: Fine, give me $60.
Me: ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY NO! YOU CAN HAVE $50
Manager: Don't kill the messenger I'm just trying to do my job.
Me: FUCK THAT I'LL KILL YOU AND EVERY SUBSEQUENT MESSENGER TILL THE OWNER GETS HERE AND I MIGHT JUST KILL HIM TOO!
Manager: You know I sort of believe you...ok $50
Manager: Why do you have to be so scary all the time.
(for the record should the owner or anyone in management read this, I won't be killing anyone it's not an actual threat)
Locker room banter has been reduced lately to how big my ass is and that it might have it's own gravitational pull.
There has been a lot of talk about boob-jobs lately...for some reason it appears that the 90's are back and everyone wants melons again.
Me: you know how I get these abs?
Stripper: No, how?
Me: I do twists like this(doing twists) followed by this...Random flex pose with a facial expression that looks like I ate a lemon.
Stripper: you should make a you tube video of your work-out it would be hilarious.
...Laughter ensues, photo to follow.
Manager: All the crazy stuff that happens around here you should write a book.
Me: You are the 5th person this week to say that. I might have to work on my horrible english first.
Customer: How did you recognize me I'm wearing a wig.
Me: I'm observant, the way you stand gave it away...actually that's a lie, actual hair metal rockers don't wear such nerdy shoes.
Customer: Damn, I knew I should have worn different shoes.
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