I Like Good Vibes Customers Because They Taste Just Like Chicken

Today I worked a floor shift at one of the stores and had so much fun that I think I shot coffee out my nose at least twice. First of all, after one too many "blonde" moments, the staff officially named me "Captain Obvious." I think I actually said, while we were contemplating what we’d do if we had shopping carts and three minutes in a supermarket (like in those contests), that I’d "go straight to the frozen food — because you can freeze that stuff!" What a revelation. They were shocked to find out this news about frozen food, and I was shocked that anyone in their right mind had ever offered me a book contract.

We also were given these very hippie, feel-good surveys for store staffers about what we like about our jobs and stupid stuff like that. I filled one out that I will surely get in trouble for. It went like this:

What do you love about our customers?

They taste just like chicken.

What do you wish our customers knew before they came to the store?

That sometimes the penis goes in the vagina, and that I have an itchy rash.

How do you feel when you leave the store? (tired, happy, proud, energized)

Sore and chafed from the anal stretching.

What advice do you like to give our customers?

That the Kama Sutra Pleasure Garden massage oil does not work on itchy rashes.

What three things do customers ask you the most?

1) How are the sandwiches?
2) Does that tinfoil hat get hot?
3) Would I please move away from the exit?

What do you dislike about our customers/what do you find problematic in your sales position?

The customers look afraid when I talk to them.

How do you deal with this issue?

1) I bear down and fart really loud.
2) Then I lay down under a table.
3) I ask if anyone wants a date.

What makes you interested in working in sales?

I have a really big vagina.

What makes you interested in the field of sex education?

I can shoot golf balls really far out of my really big vagina.

I signed mine "Penny Ante." Okay, I don’t have a really big vagina, a tinfoil hat, nor can I make my pussy into a cannon, but I guess in reflection now I know why I’m always getting in trouble with the serious people (management), and why I get along really well with everyone else. But overall it’s been a semi-nerve wracking week, what with final edits going on with my next book, the reading for Thomas Roche and Alison Tyler last Tuesday (great attendance, fun event), and the gig tomorrow night.

I got asked at the very last minute to be the host opening night at the Sex Worker Film Festival, tomorrow (Friday 5/23, 8pm). Good Vibes is co-sponsoring the fest and I’ll be introducing the "best of the fest" movie, a very interesting-looking film about transsexual Brazilian sex workers and their pilgrimages to Italy, the emerging capital of tranny prostitution (look out Brazil, the Pope’s wooing your boygirl sex workers). For my MC-ing, I get a weekend pass to the fest, and I’m extremely excited about catching this one film I’ve been trying to see for ages, "The Girl Next Door: The Stacy Valentine Story." This is a doc about a cornfed housewife-turned-porn star from respected documentation Christina Fugate. It’s explicit and disturbing (graphic sex/graphic surgery), so it’s impossible to find in our Puritan era, but it sounds like a pretty culturally important flick. I’m nervous about getting up in front of all those people tomorrow, but happy about seeing that film.

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