how to make extra money being a pimp.

31 May

Today, because I’m amazing, I repaired the toilet paper holder in such a way that it isn’t even going to break again tomorrow. So if you were wondering just how deep my talents lie, now you have some kind of indication. I would have done more, such as build a chalkboard for the bar so we can carry fancy new microbrews and shit like that, but I still can’t find my pink fucking tape measure probably because someone stole it. The way it works in the restaurant business is apparently that if you’re employed at a place and you like things (i.e. forks, wine glasses, pink tape measures) you can take them home and make them all yours. So because of the kleptomaniacs who work for me, I couldn’t build a chalkboard and now there’s no use in carrying an expanded beer selection and you’re stuck drinking things like Corona Light and Stella. Stripped of the possibility to build shit, I instead graced the dining room with my presence.

It was just the usual kind of crowd. A couple of swingers who I haven’t seen in awhile who stared at my (sunburnt) breasts while they asked how old my kid is now and told me that their oldest granddaughter is going into high school. An anorexic woman and her husband. A sixteen-year-old kid and his parents who ordered beer for him. A bowling league full of cranky chicks with Celiac Disease. Oh, and the Sexy Older Man.

Sometimes there are customers that you enjoy talking to because they tell good stories, or they make you feel smarter and prettier than you actually are, or they’re a local celebrity or know local celebrities so you like to stay in their good graces. In the case of the Sexy Older Man, I enjoy talking to him because he’s highly attractive and has a raspy voice, not like the pack-a-day kind of rasp, more like the sings-too-loud-in-the-car rasp. I’m familiar with this rasp because I am constantly singing too loud in the car and losing my voice. Today would have been one of those days because the Les Miserables trailer came out today and I’m sooooo excited for it that I felt the need to celebrate the only way I know how, which is to sing the entire show at the top of my lungs with the windows open (of course using British accents because the American Cast Recording isn’t available on Spotify, duh) but my friend called me to thank me for being so amazing and beautiful and we wound up shooting the shit about children’s singers for my whole ride to work.

Tonight the Sexy Older Man was sitting with another handsome older (45) gentleman and Thing 2 (who was there working the bowling party with Thing 1) took a liking to him right from the get go. So I was forced to go hang out with the sexy men for half an hour so I could find out the guy’s marital status and whether or not he’d be interested in any type of date or sexual activity with my employee and why he was driving a rental car. We quickly got off that subject (wife, no thanks, lives in Florida) and moved on to more important things like how Sexy Older Guy wants to get on TV and how I’m going to become a pirate and sail to the Cook Islands as a second source of income. Or maybe even become a pot dealer. Sexy Older Guy is an idea man, and he suggested that instead of sailing the seven seas, perhaps I’d be better to incorporate my extraordinary pimping skills into my everyday work routine. We decided that I can be both a pimp and a weed dealer, and we’ll keep the “Chicken Tacos” on the menu, and that the code for people ordering an evening with one of my Lovely Ladies is “I’ll have the fish tacos.” And Sexy Older Guy said that he’d probably order the combo platter and have a big party. I warned him that I’d probably be exposing him and his combo platter in my world famous blog but he seemed unphased.

Sometimes I feel like the Sexy Older Guy’s wife doesn’t like me and I really can’t figure out why. I mean, I know how to show my customers a good time, and her hubby is no exception. She should appreciate me. And my services.

The more I thought about it after Harry broke up the Sexy Man conference, the more I realized that becoming a pimp is far more lucrative than being a pirate. I’m really not good with treasure maps, but I do love being called Madame. Plus, the other day Charlie mentioned that he needed extra cash, and that maybe he’d become a prostitute, so he and I can prob work something out where his code word is the Hibachi Fish Tacos or Sushi Tacos or Wonton Soup Tacos. Something politically correct like that.


Sidebar: Here is me and Harry’s conversation before he went to sleep tonight:

Harry: What’s your blog post on tonight?

Me: How I’m going to be a pimp.

Harry: Ok, goodnight. I love you.

Me: Do you think it’s ok that I’m blogging about how I’m going to be a pimp?

Harry: Yeah, sounds like fun to me.

Me: It’s going to be fun when I get some hos up in here.

Harry: Make sure you close the door, you type too loud.


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