Archive for September, 2010

You’ll Never Hit Me Up Again

Posted in True Stories with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 23, 2010 by dissectingthefetalpig

PhotobucketI’ll make your toenails curl.

A long time ago when The Bowery was seedy it wasn’t uncommon to get hit on by a working girl.  Let me be clear in saying that these working girls were nothing like that Julia Roberts bitch in that romantic comedy about a john falling for a trick.  You get what you pay for in all things vice, and these were definitely dollar bin crack whores.

For years I hung around and even worked in The East Village/Bowery/Lower East Side areas of the city.  My one mainstay of employment over the years was under a co-ed shelter.  Two blocks north was another shelter.  Around the corner from that another shelter.  The next block over from the club I worked at was a porn store.  There were two methadone clinics within a four block radius as well.  So needless to say there would always be toothless crack bitches wanting to get you off for cheap.

Now you have to either wonder about the perseverance of these women (and the men that tried to look like them) or you had to wonder who the fuck keeps them in business.  I for one always thought of it as AIDS personified coming over to remind me to get rubbers on the way home.  But that is neither here nor there.

So there was this one trick that would harass me to no end my first year working in that area.  As soon as the club would close and I’d make for the bank to deposit my cash, she’d be right there trying to hit me up.  She was this scabby old hispanic woman with a few teeth missing.  Maybe a biker “mama” at one point, but clearly no-one’s baby.  Baby mama, maybe.  Anyways, as soon as this hag would see me, she’d follow me and cat call me.  Insisting that she knew I had some money on me (which I did) and that she could show me a good time (which I doubted, highly).  At first I would try to ignore her, then I would try to play it off, and that was a total fail.  Finally I had enough.  So one night after seeing her around while at work, I knew she’d be ready and waiting to be my private dancer come closing time.  Enough was enough and I was going to make this bitch fuck off.  I devised a plan.

As I went for a coffee run before the end of the night I bought the BIGGEST cucumber I could find in the deli.  I felt kind of silly doing security the rest of the evening with a cucumber in my jacket pocket, but whatever.  It had a purpose so long as it didn’t break or get crushed in the few hours I had left for work.  As I made my way to the bank, as predicted, my leathery vulture came swooping down looking for a hand out.  This time I switched it up and said I’d play, but I just wanted a show.  She agreed like a fool.  We went to the sub-level of a building stoop where it is dark and away from prying eyes.  She asked what type of show I wanted and I laid it on her.  I pulled out my gigantic cucumber and told her I’ll give her $40 bucks for her to shove it up her ass.  Half up front and the other half when that thing is halfway buried up her ass.  Take it or leave it.  See, that’s the one thing about being a junkie in need of a fix, you won’t say no to cash.  I had her in a bind.  She can take the $20 dollars and fuck off or she can humiliate herself for another $20.  She was greedy and went for the full monty.  She asked for lube and I only grinned and said “Nope, work with what you’ve got.  You said you could show me a good time.  Put your money where your mouth is.”  She screamed, winced and probably could not shit for a week afterwards.  Whatever, as soon as she had it lodged up there I crumpled the bill and dropped it on the floor.  I didn’t need to stick around, I figured I had been just enough of a bastard to get my point across.  She was yelling and screaming at me as I was leaving, but whatever.  I wasn’t gonna be bothered with it.

I have to say while I could have done other things with that $40 dollars, it was well spent.  That bitch wouldn’t even look at me again let alone harass me.  Neither did the other tricks in the area.  I guess word got around that I was one of those “crazy” motherfuckers.  Which I was totally fine with.  I didn’t expect some pimp to come and slap me around and I was even pleased when the hookers decided not to work in front of the club anymore.  I did refrain from eating cucumbers for a minute, but I eventually got over that too.


Displeased To Meet Me?

Posted in True Stories with tags , , , , , , , , on September 22, 2010 by dissectingthefetalpig

In the past few months I have had to reevaluate my life more so than I normally do.  A lot of changes came into my life and while some are kind of shitty in the overview, they do come with some good.  Every turd that falls from an airplane comes out shiny and polished.

In my case I kind of hit “The Wall”.  It’s a point where you cannot go any further no matter how you try.  I couldn’t climb over it, I couldn’t go around it and I sure as shit could not dig a tunnel under it.  As it turns out my wall came in the form of a chemical imbalance.  The way around it comes in the form of medication.

Now I usually am against head meds in general.  I’ve been known to talk a lot of shit in regards to them so it is only fitting that now have to take them.  There is a lot of trial and error being on them in regards to getting the dosage right to suit you properly.  This can lead to doing some really silly things and some really stupid things.  Once the flux wears off, you are supposed to become a balanced person.  Being balanced does not mean you are no longer an asshole.  I want to make that point clear.  So anyways, I am on Sertraline.  It is a generic form of Zoloft and while I find myself more rational and calmer, it does come with side effects; some good and some bad.  In conjunction with therapy and dedication I may actually become a whole person for once in my life.

It’s a process of starting over so to speak.  In doing so I have had to learn what to avoid, how to handle things with a different approach and there are certain things I have to just give up.  Dedication seems to be the key to all of this.  It has been said that there are a million reasons to do nothing and only one reason to do something; because you wanted to.  Sounds easy as pie but it’s actually hard as hell.  I basically have to give up thirty something years of behavioral patterns and opt for new and different ones.  Sure that sounds like a great thing, and it very much is.  But it is also very frustrating to come to grips with.

For instance some of the more negative drawbacks these meds that effect me the most are as follows:

Loss of appetite:  I have a hard time knowing if I am hungry and have to keep an eye on that.  When I actually do feel somewhat hungry nowadays, I would normally be starving.  So I have to keep track of when I eat.

Hinders creativity:  This one pisses me off a good bit.  I am usually bouncing off the walls with ideas and am doing things.  For a while there I was feeling as though I just came off shock treatment and was rather vacant.  Only recently have I felt myself wanting to do creative/stupid things.  I can do without being stupid for sure.  Like wanting to stand in my window in a jock strap and luchador mask all evening.  That might get me arrested or up shit’s creek, but wanting to write, draw or create things again is awesome.  Even if it is in smaller doses.

Hinders libido/delayed orgasms:  This one sends me through the roof.  While not wanting to hump everything in sight, watch porn, and jerk off all the time isn’t  necessarily a bad thing.  It is kind of weird.  My general level of perversion could have used a good toning down.  I get it.  But when I do feel like humping something, watch porn or jerk off I would very much like to have an orgasm.  And that, for those of you that don’t know, is where delayed orgasms come in.  A delayed orgasm would be best described as running a race and some asshole keeps pushing the finish line further away as you get closer.  This can make a motherfucker homicidal.  It is almost laughable that the same medication that is supposed to help me be a calmer more rational human being has a side effect that makes me want to kick panda bears into extinction.

Now on the plus side I do sleep better.  It pretty much killed my insomnia for a minute.  That’s starting to kick back in, but when I do sleep I sleep very well and that is something I haven’t known in a long time.

You also cannot really drink or do any other sort of dumb shit on it.  You can drink on it technically, but you get drunk really fast.  I have to be careful with that.  Which is hard.  I am human.

On the therapeutic front I have to come to grips with some shit about myself and that isn’t always fun either.  While it is interesting to figure out your inner workings, therapy and counseling also means you might flat out be called an asshole.  I don’t always like being called on my shit.

Before all of this I decided to become reclusive and had really withdrawn.  It seemed like everywhere I went there was a problem or some shit and so the best thing to do is remove the one constant from the problem.  That constant being me.  This isn’t really a viable answer in life.  So now, instead, I am learning how to cope and adapt with people.  The hard part in all of this is that my opinions on most people are the same.  I don’t like them.  My opinions clash quite a bit and I generally still disagree with the majority; sometimes out of spite.  The answer to all of this is in presentation.  Meaning that I need to learn a new way to present my argument or ideas as opposed to how I would normally present them.  Like saying “Well I just don’t see it like you do” as opposed to “You’re full of shit dickhead!”

As I progress in this journey (not in the Steve Perry sense of things) I find that a lot of things I normally did seem rather silly.  Events I would normally enjoy seem trite at times.  Bar culture has really started to lose its charm on me.  In general, most things seem played out.  The problem that lies in this is not knowing what to do differently.  I try to do different things and break from my social routines but I am having a hard time finding my new niche.  Sitting at home holed up and playing Assassin’s Creed for hours on end is not really a social activity nor is it new and productive.

Basically I have to learn me and enjoy life.  I have to adapt to a more progressive and positive life in doing this.  I have a feeling the old and still somewhat current me would want to bitch slap the me I am trying to become.  But I feel if I do it right, those versions of me (past and current) might actually like and respect the me I am trying to become.  And that would be awesome.

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