I find it ironic that I am now worrying about being stoned as I walk in the door to work, considering I usually have to get stoned in order to go to work in the first place. Isn't life strange?
Captain Peanut only made things worse when he gave a press conference declaring himself the King of Nashville. He said he won't be run out of business by a bunch of churchies.
Captain Peanut in his kingly attire. What a moron he is!
One of the strippers from the nudie bar across the street started flashing the protesters.
This chick's nickname is Crazy Courtney. She's a tough broad. While she was baring her breasts, someone in the crowd chucked her upside the head with a carton of chocolate milk, but it didn't phase her.
The owner of the drag queen club, Janice's Cabaret, came out in support of The Boobie Barn. I was surprised to see Janice actually IS a woman. I thought she was a tranny for sure. Although, maybe she's just had some really good surgery.
Janice swears she is a close personal friend of Tyra Banks, and that Tyra might do a show on us. That would be exciting. I've always wanted to be on TV.
I still want a new job, but I really don't want to work at Hooter's. I'm thinking of starting a business giving pole dancing aerobics lessons at home. Either that or I could take the job that my cousin, Larry the undertaker, offered me selling burial plots. Which of these sounds better to you?
29 comments:
A hooters job would be great, because it would be totally easy for me to show up and surprise you some day.
If you do the undertaker's job, do you get to join the gravedigger's union? If so, you must do it. It has awesome benefits. Or rather one awesome benefit - being able to tell people you are in the gravedigger's union.
Digging graves is also an AWESOME workout. I have like like a million pounds digging graves, and I don't even do it for a living! I just do it irregularly like once a month or so making a new grave and then every few weeks moving old graves to new locations, which is getting old fast, let me tell you!
If you are only doing the sales part, well, I dunno. It seems like it must be hard to convince people to buy lots. I mean, who wants to die, right? I think people don't even visit graves much these days. Who knows, though.
Poledancing aerobics lessons would be fun, if you don't mind teaching the same fat jesus freak protestors who are driving you out of your current job.
PS I can't believe those churchies spelled hoor with an 'a' like that. What a bunch of morans!
OMG......you should offer live "online" classes! I'd be in!
Now exactly WHERE did I put that pole?
You know my grandpa used to manage a funeral home...in fact, my grandparents lived above one for several years. My grandma would always joke at Christmastime that everyone could stay overnight...there'd always be enough beds, thanks to the casket room. So I say, go. Make thyself a burial plot saleswoman.
More money in burial plots, and Shirley will have a ground old time running amok at the cemetery
Captain Peanut should have declared himself "bigger than Jesus". That's always a bit hit.
BTW: yesterday my site got its first hit for "Lisa Rhinna's new hairstyle". That's gold !!!
Mister U- that's exactly why I'm not taking the Hooters job. It would make it much to easy for you to spot and kidnap me. Plus orange is not my color.
I'm not going to dig graves, what are you kidding me? It would ruin my manicure. I think the job is telemarketing to people who already have one relative planted in that cemetary. Apparently you call them up and suggest how nice it would be to rest next to Aunt Selma for eternity.
Churchies don't care about spelling. The Lord doesn't mind if you are illiterate as long as you don't cuss, dance, or play cards.
Liquid- well you'd sort of need to be here so I can demonstrate the proper pole holds. Like sword swallowing and knife throwing, you just can't learn this sort of thing from books.
Samantha- have you ever slept in a casket before? It's on my list of 1000 things to do before I need one for real.
Diane- hmmmm, that's true. Not to mention no one would complain about her barking.
Anandamide- I'll mention it to him. He seems to enjoy making an ass of himself.
Bitch, that hit should have been mine! I think I just got served.
Okay, okay, it's on.
There's no leg injury options with burial plot sales.
That said, you're not really getting to meet people under the best of circumstances...
sounds like a toss up to me.
I like that Captain Peanut. He's got style. Us Captains have to stick together.
Also, that Crazy Courtney chick has got some tough looking nipples. I bet she would make a good mother.
I'm with Liquid, you could have multiple cameras going in order to get the best angles and grips. Set up a PayPal account, and start raking in the cash.
I didn't know Jesus loves naked jello wrestling.
Hmmm...maybe that's an idea for the next contemporary worship service?
At one point in the bible god wrestles with abraham for like 2 days. Draw your own conclusions.
I think you are too slutty to sell graves. :)
UNless, you threw in a free pole dance. Now THAT would net you a fortune.
Prunella, the mortuary near my house is for sale. Pelegrim has expressed interest in buying it. I do know that we will need a greeter for the mourners. We could even install a stripper pole to make you more comfortable.
Think about it and get back to me.
Being the militant feminist I am, I would suggest you avoid the Hooters job. It just demeans women. Wait a minute … maybe it just demeans guys dumb enough to go in and pay to eat in the presence of scantily—and tackily—dressed women with no interest in them whatsoever. I mean, if you want to see a bunch of chicks sans clothing, why not just go to a strip club? It’s like those guys that go to convenience stores just to buy porno magazines but get all embarrassed and buy some other random stuff so they don’t look like the raging perverts they are. If you want to perv out, just perv out. You’re not fooling anyone. As if that copy of Butt Frenzy magazine is any less pornographic because you’re buying a carton of orange juice and a Wall Street Journal with it. I have never been to a Hooters or tried their food, so if it really is spectacular or something, then I apologize to their undoubtedly proud and highly trained kitchen staff in advance.
Actually, I just think you should take the job selling burial plots because I’m a sick bastard and death-related jobs are interesting to me. Or funny to me. I’m not sure which. Also, I myself would like to be cremated immediately upon death; however, seven or eight of my personalities want to be buried, and if you take the sales job, perhaps you could hook a misanthrope up with some cheap ground to rot in.
I'm with Captain Smack - have you seen those nipples Courtney Love is sporting? they could crack coconuts!
I would go with teaching pole dancing at your house. Lesbian Affairs, hello!
Crazy Courtney is a goddess. I truly hope she never does anything stupid like have way too much plastic surgery and start hanging around Kate Moss. It would ruin her god given beauty.
I say go with the job at hooters. Digging graves will just give you freaky Madonnaesque arms. Plus, the hooters calendar is much more professional looking than the grave diggers association's.
Yeah Him- any job that doesn't force me to serve chicken wings while sporting a yeast infection inducing, bright orange, camel toe is sounding good to me right now.
Captain- it's true, he is stylish in a pimp of the year way. I bet you are much hotter though. For some reason, I always picture you as looking like Tom Petty. How close am I to right on that?
Courtney's nipples do seem a tad rough don't they? Almost like she's been suckling a baby wolf. I wouldn't put it past her. Like Isaid, she's a tough broad.
Helen- that's an idea. I do have a web cam laying around from when I was going to start a pay site featuring naked pictures of myself. Well, it turns out that there are already thousands of those kind of sites. Who would have thought it?
Sudie- of course Jesus loves naked jello wrestling! He's a guy isn't he?
Mister U- I'm sure they wrestled in a manly, Tom Cruise kind of way.
Ubermouth- hey! I'm not slutty! I'm very, very choosy about who I allow to bang me silly against a men's room wall. Hint: it helps to be a waistoid muscian who will forget my name immediately afterward.
Offering a free pole dance with every plot sounds like a great idea. You must have been a business major, yes? Maybe I'll throw in a lap dance if they buy two.
Kookla- You, me, Pelegrim and a bunch of stiffs? I would love nothing better. Please make this happen.
Morbid- I know what you mean about cremation. It seems nicer to be sprinkled over a placid lake, or pretty garden of sunflowers, rather than wait for the chemical accident which will surely reanimate my rotting corpse into one of the walking dead. I really don't want to end up as a zombie. But then again, I'd also like to be perserved like Evita Person, and laid out in a glass coffin, so people could gaze upon my cold, dead beauty and weep with despair at my loss. That would be pretty cool.
About those grave plots, I would be happy to give you a discount. I know how important it is to keep those pesky other personalities happy (boy, do I!) and I'm really fond of you anyway. If you buy eight burial spots from me I will not only throw in a free lap dance, but maybe even a bit of naked jello wrestling as well. Just as long as you promise to be gentle with my new weave. I got it professionally done and it cost quite a bit. Those Jessica Simpson Dream Hair pieces kept making me sneeze. I'm not sure what they are made of but it isn't hair.
Betty Boob Hug- I tried to crack open a coconut the other day. Man, that was hard! Too bad Court wasn't around to help.
Maybe I should do both. HAve a buttoned up job selling grave plots all day, and then letting loose teaching women to work the pole at night. Maybe someone would give me my own reality show if I did.
Mish- there you are! I missed you. I thought Mister U had stolen you away. He's always hitting on my women.
Madonnaesque arms would be pretty gross. Given my laziness, I can't ever really see that happening. Right now, with my raw vegan diet, I'm shooting for the Angelina Jolie veiny look. I think I'm starting to see one pop up on my forehead. I just need to lose ten more pounds or so.
You know you're the only one for me, Pru!
Captain Peanut? I thought that was The Pope.
Start the new business giving homemade pole dancing lessons. Entrepreneurship is much more lucrative than working for the man (or the pope, in your case).
Stoning as a metaphor. I love it!
I think you should seroiusly consider Kookla's offer.
Mister U- I think you are just love drunk off my humps. But still it seems like everytime you come around my London, London Bridge wanna go down.
Bottleblonde- I do admire the sewing factory/brothel that you started in Thailand. I wish I was smart enough to do something like that, but I'm not very good at business stuff.
LA- if she buys the funeral home I am so in! You'll come work for her too, right LA?
prunella, i usually mind my own business but there's several things going on that are making me concerned for your well being.
first, you're contemplating crossing picket lines for something with the word "boobie" in it.
secondly, captain peanut is neither a captain or peanut and your adderall-addled brain can't comprehend this glaring truth.
finally, mr. underhill, while an obviously good looking and charming guy, has painstakingly cropped out a picture of someone who looks suspiciously like crazy courtney from his avatar.
i'm just sayin'.
Tom Petty? That would be a "no". Thank god. I like his music, but doesn't he look a bit like a bulimic chicken?
PK- I appreciate your concern for me. Your first two points are very good ones. As for Mr. U, that blonde could very well be Crazy Courtney. He gets around.
Captain- you don't look like Tom Petty? Damn, I was sure you did. Are you ever going to post a picture of yourself? Maybe we readers could vote on who you resemble the most. It would also drive your blog hoes out of their minds with lust. Unless, of course, you really resemble Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons. That was my second guess.
You should come to Memphis and work for me. My girls drive around in Cadillacs all day asking men at redlights if they want a date. It's $50 a pop and I take $20, plus gas money, but you don't have to stand on any street corner and you don't have to work it on a stage. It's good money. You should seriously come work for me.
I'll keep it that in mind. It can't be any worse than Hooters. At least I won't smell like chicken wings at the end of the night, right?
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