Thursday, April 16, 2009

the joy of the sex shop

Sometimes it's hard to find joy when you're working for $7.55/hour. However, when you're surrounded by the raunchy awesomeness that exists in a Georgetown "adult novelty" shop, you eventually find yourself getting joy out of snapping low-quality camera-phone pics of yourself wearing a pair of trashy stripper heals. (Apparently the recession is starting to affect people's freak status because there were maybe a dozen customers the entire night. In other words, NARY A BUTT PLUS WAS SOLD!)

Unfortunately you can't tell from the photo, but these stripper heels go impeccably well with my outfit. They're black pleather (naturally), but have maroon piping outlining them, which matches near perfectly with my sweet DIY sweatshirt.

Speaking of, let's take a closer look at that. It's a recent acquisition that deserves, at the very least, a sh*tty e-homage on this blog.

That's right, e-friends, I'm wearing the f*cking eye of the tiger. Or eyes, rather. And I guess that's actually a leopard. But whatever. What's important is that it's awesome. In fact, it's boss.

However, this boss sweatshirt with its lovely iron-on applique wasn't always so suitable to wear to work at the sex shop. Nope, in fact, it used to be worn weekly by my grandmother (RIP) to her bridge club. But not one to defile my family's legacy by wearing this sweatshirt as is to the sex shop, I got out the scissors. That way I could defile my family's legacy by wearing a modified version of this boss sweatshirt to the sex shop. So, with a few snips at the neck and sleeves, I managed to turn something wholesome into something mildy slutty!

(My family is ashamed of me.)

And speaking of slutty, let's return to the stripper shoes. How in hell do the strippers do it?! I could barely walk from the rectal pleasures section to the penis pump stand in those shoes, let alone coordinate a dance while taking off clothing items. However, I guess if you're swinging around a pole, your feet really don't touch the ground, wait. I suppose it all makes sense. Well, unless you're this guy. That makes no sense.

And you know what else doesn't make sense? The fact that the minimum wage is only $7.55! It's kind of messed up that I make more by being unemployed (unemployment welfare is $384/week) than by being employed, say, fulltime at the sex shop ($302/week). Although I could probably treble those funds each week if I actually went ahead and bought those shoes and became an real-life stripper. I probably wouldn't strip off more than a sock or two (OK, and my tear-away pants), but I'm pretty sure it'd be worth a few (hundred) bills just to see me continuously fall on my face, twist my ankle and eventually poke my eye out -- that heel is no joke.

(According to my family, I'm the joke.)

And speaking of jokes, I highly recommend this article by David Sedaris, which includes this gem: "What did the leper say to the prostitute? 'Keep the tip.'" LOL! Hey, if it's good enough for the New Yorker it's good enough for the The Anti DC.

Along those same lines, the New Yorker appropriated this inappropriate clip from the usually very appropriate news station MSNBC by challenging, "See how many 'teabagging' jokes you can spot in David Shuster's hilarious MSNBC preview of [yesterday's] right-wing 'Tea Parties.'"

I'm happy to report the New Yorker and I both counted 13.

(My family no longer wishes to associate with me.)

But Anderson Cooper does! That silver fox knows what I'm talking about!

Actually, he might know a little bit more about that than me...ZING! Now if only he'd stop by the shop...

*Outfit details: Jeans -- Habitual; Sweatshirt -- Vintage; Tank -- Calvin Klein; Shoes: Whatever brand they sell at the sex shop.


Velvet said...

I'm so confused. Are you collecting unemployment AND your paycheck at the sex shop? Because if so, um, that's not legal. At least to my understanding of the pesky rules.

People window shop for butt plugs. When they decide to purchase them though, it's usually online. Cough. Not that I would know anything about that. Oh no.

Shannon said...

Heels like that are manageable, you just have to stand up straight and take a long stride. And waggle your hips a bit.

And, no, I don't know this from professional experience.

Freewheel said...

Your new job is providing awesome blogging material.

Marissa said...

velvet--Technically, yes. But in DC you can work P/T and still get unemployment. You don't get the full amount, of course (it all depends on how much you work and how much you get paid), but as long as you report it, it's all street legal.

shannon--I don't think a butt waggle would help me here. Although these shoes made my feet look incredibly tiny and made me probably 6'3" (which is actually a drawback, as falling down in these from that height would hurt like a bitch), I think I'll take my geriatric Topsiders over these any day. Unless, of course, I ever decide to work the pole.

Marissa said...


Awesome or boss? Bawesome?

dmb5_libra said...

that outfit is pretty cute!

im thinking strippers have very strong ankles.

M@ said...

In my early-twenties, I dated a woman who was half-lesbian, half Italian.

We didn't have much money at the time so I went to a sex shop and looked around for a birthday present. Got her a magazine called "Tail Ends."

My Tail Ends Catalog, she called it.

Patty Duke said...

The shoes really work with the jeans. I could totally rock that with a sexy top sitting on a bar stool somewhere.

suicide_blond said...

i dont say it enough...but(does this job make you want to add "plug" every time you say but??? just wonderin??)...

i *heart* you

Marissa said...

dmb5--Thanks! And agreed re: strippers' ankles. They gotta be strong to keep upright.

m@--Unfortunately, we don't sell magazines at the shop. We do, however, have quite the selection of illustrated books. Nothing pop-up though.

patty duke--Yeah, the shoes don't look quite as garish in the pic as they did in person. They were like 6 inches high or something. But yeah, they do strangely go with those jeans. Agreed. Sitting is the way to go in those heels.

suicide--Yes! You've read my mind!