"I'm the stripper"
It began as a relatively calm Saturday night. I was solo and started early at Forbidden City, then moved to an art opening Downtown. I was half drunk by 11:00pm and had not paid for a drink yet. (In fact, I don't think I did all night) Mark and Mike showed up, we caroused around a bit, then it was time to move on. The plan was to go back to Hollywood, meet up with two more friends, and go to a birthday party at our local bar. Mike bailed, but Mark, myself and two girl friends arrived at my apartment, and the wine was broken out. It was still early, about midnight, we had time to go to the bar. Sensi and a somewhat heated political discussion filled the air, then the evening took it's turn.
"Knock Knock Knock", rapped on the door.
Wondering who was stopping by to visit, I opened the door. I did not recognize the face and my first thought was we were being to loud. But before I could voice this thought, the woman stading the hall opened her mouth:
"I'm the stripper."
"I'm sorry?" I replied.
"I'm the stripper!" she said again as she opened her shirt to reveal her D+ silicone breasts.
I think the next thing I said was something like "Uhh.." followed by brief laughter. I wasn't sure what else to say! Here I am, in my apartment, enjoying a peaceful gathering with friends, and then this.. I was a little stumped, and not prepared for the next moment.
The next thing I know she OPENS the door, spilling my glass of red wine on my white linen shirt. "I'm the stripper!!!", she announced to the room. I b-lined for the bathroom to wash my shirt and simulaneously relfect on what just happened.
The details are a little hazy because I was well on my way to 3/4 drunk, but a few things stick out. She insisted that she was paid $75 to strip for us and have sex with.. me. Then she took off her clothes and was so fucking high I don't believe she had a clue what she was doing. After weighing the situation in my head and trying my best to be peaceful and civil towards this person, I decided she had to go.
"You need to leave", I said. "This isn't cool, you need to leave".
She refused of course and started crying and carrying on. In hindsight, it was pathetic, she was pathetic: Fucked out of her mind, trying to manipulate us to further feed her pathetic lifestyle of addiction. I wish I would have punched her in the fucking mouth. But at the time, I was trying to avoid the situation getting any worse. After a few minutes of crackhead stripper carrying on, refusing to leave, REMOVING ALL OF HER CLOTHES, and trying to give me a lap dance, I showed her my cell phone display reading "911" and told her she better leave.
"AGAGAGGHHHH!!!!" She screamed as she hit and spit on me. Mark was doing his best to hold her back, I wanted to punch her at that point. But I pressed "Send" on my cell phone instead. She was close to hysterical as Mark managed to carry her out of my apartment.
"Jesus Christ!!" I exclaimed, as we shared a laugh of shock and relief, "Who the hell was that?" I was on 911 hold for a few minutes and hung up, thinking the situation was over anyway.
After a few minutes of putting our brains around what just happened, we noticed Mark wasn't back. My first thought, "He's totally fucking her in the parking lot!" Which is entirely unfair, but that's what came to my mind. Shortly after this, Mark calls me:
"Where are you?" I asked.
"Outside! This chick is trying to jump in traffic, I've pulled her out of the road three times! Did you call the police?"
"I was on hold and hung up after she left. I'll call them back and come down"
"Thanks dude"
I called 911 back and headed outside. I was on hold for less than a minute this time. I gave the report of a crazy bitch trying to jump in traffic as Mark held on to the crazy bitch trying to jump in traffic. The police showed up in about five minutes began questioning crackhead across the street.
"I was paid $75 to strip for that guy" I heard her say. I could do nothing but laugh.
I explained what happened to the arresting officers and the crackhead went crazy in the back on the squad car.
"AAAGGAGHHHHH!!!!!" She screamed as she repeatedily beat her head on the glass. Nice, bitch, real nice.
The two officers took crackhead out of the car, hog-tied her on the grass and waited for backup. It was at this point I remembered how fn blitzed I was. I wasn't out of control, no spins, but I'd had a fair amount of beer and wine, and we had just extinguished the weekend cigarette before our visitor showed up. Mark was concerned I would be taken in as well, but I wasn't worried. It was actually a smart thought, the cops could have easily been dicks and fucked with me. But I'm not going to run and hide like a criminal; while I may have participated in something that would techinically put me in this catagory, I wasn't the one causing social menace. While the police don't always handle their power appropriately, they are important in today's society, and I'd like to help them do their job.
So.. we then both decided to go back upstairs, the watching the hog-tied screaming crackhead stripper was losing interest. Several minutes later we noticed two more units showed up outside and they were detaining the lady of the evening. I explained what happened a few more times to the new cops on the scene, and got an incident number. One officer was trying to stick up for the arrested.
"She's a little mental too, it's not just drugs"
Yeah, she is mental, obviously, and needs help. Help I hope she gets. I feel sympathetic for the person behind those glassy eyes BUT I DO NOT FEEL BAD FOR THE CRACKED OUT CHICK WHO MENCACED MY HOME. That person was high, period. She had no respect for me, my apartment, my friends, herself, or anyone trying to help her. And that is because she was smoking crack. I have zero sympathy for that, because you cannot blame it on anything but yourself. Rot in jail, bitch.
Ok, that was a bit extreme. I do hope this person gets off drugs and gets the help she needs. I don't know where she came from, or what has happened in her life up until now. It obviously wasn't ideal, probably really fucked up, but I don't buy that as an excuse to further ruin yourself. Tough love to you my fellow human crackhead, is sending you to jail.
"Knock Knock Knock", rapped on the door.
Wondering who was stopping by to visit, I opened the door. I did not recognize the face and my first thought was we were being to loud. But before I could voice this thought, the woman stading the hall opened her mouth:
"I'm the stripper."
"I'm sorry?" I replied.
"I'm the stripper!" she said again as she opened her shirt to reveal her D+ silicone breasts.
I think the next thing I said was something like "Uhh.." followed by brief laughter. I wasn't sure what else to say! Here I am, in my apartment, enjoying a peaceful gathering with friends, and then this.. I was a little stumped, and not prepared for the next moment.
The next thing I know she OPENS the door, spilling my glass of red wine on my white linen shirt. "I'm the stripper!!!", she announced to the room. I b-lined for the bathroom to wash my shirt and simulaneously relfect on what just happened.
The details are a little hazy because I was well on my way to 3/4 drunk, but a few things stick out. She insisted that she was paid $75 to strip for us and have sex with.. me. Then she took off her clothes and was so fucking high I don't believe she had a clue what she was doing. After weighing the situation in my head and trying my best to be peaceful and civil towards this person, I decided she had to go.
"You need to leave", I said. "This isn't cool, you need to leave".
She refused of course and started crying and carrying on. In hindsight, it was pathetic, she was pathetic: Fucked out of her mind, trying to manipulate us to further feed her pathetic lifestyle of addiction. I wish I would have punched her in the fucking mouth. But at the time, I was trying to avoid the situation getting any worse. After a few minutes of crackhead stripper carrying on, refusing to leave, REMOVING ALL OF HER CLOTHES, and trying to give me a lap dance, I showed her my cell phone display reading "911" and told her she better leave.
"AGAGAGGHHHH!!!!" She screamed as she hit and spit on me. Mark was doing his best to hold her back, I wanted to punch her at that point. But I pressed "Send" on my cell phone instead. She was close to hysterical as Mark managed to carry her out of my apartment.
"Jesus Christ!!" I exclaimed, as we shared a laugh of shock and relief, "Who the hell was that?" I was on 911 hold for a few minutes and hung up, thinking the situation was over anyway.
After a few minutes of putting our brains around what just happened, we noticed Mark wasn't back. My first thought, "He's totally fucking her in the parking lot!" Which is entirely unfair, but that's what came to my mind. Shortly after this, Mark calls me:
"Where are you?" I asked.
"Outside! This chick is trying to jump in traffic, I've pulled her out of the road three times! Did you call the police?"
"I was on hold and hung up after she left. I'll call them back and come down"
"Thanks dude"
I called 911 back and headed outside. I was on hold for less than a minute this time. I gave the report of a crazy bitch trying to jump in traffic as Mark held on to the crazy bitch trying to jump in traffic. The police showed up in about five minutes began questioning crackhead across the street.
"I was paid $75 to strip for that guy" I heard her say. I could do nothing but laugh.
I explained what happened to the arresting officers and the crackhead went crazy in the back on the squad car.
"AAAGGAGHHHHH!!!!!" She screamed as she repeatedily beat her head on the glass. Nice, bitch, real nice.
The two officers took crackhead out of the car, hog-tied her on the grass and waited for backup. It was at this point I remembered how fn blitzed I was. I wasn't out of control, no spins, but I'd had a fair amount of beer and wine, and we had just extinguished the weekend cigarette before our visitor showed up. Mark was concerned I would be taken in as well, but I wasn't worried. It was actually a smart thought, the cops could have easily been dicks and fucked with me. But I'm not going to run and hide like a criminal; while I may have participated in something that would techinically put me in this catagory, I wasn't the one causing social menace. While the police don't always handle their power appropriately, they are important in today's society, and I'd like to help them do their job.
So.. we then both decided to go back upstairs, the watching the hog-tied screaming crackhead stripper was losing interest. Several minutes later we noticed two more units showed up outside and they were detaining the lady of the evening. I explained what happened a few more times to the new cops on the scene, and got an incident number. One officer was trying to stick up for the arrested.
"She's a little mental too, it's not just drugs"
Yeah, she is mental, obviously, and needs help. Help I hope she gets. I feel sympathetic for the person behind those glassy eyes BUT I DO NOT FEEL BAD FOR THE CRACKED OUT CHICK WHO MENCACED MY HOME. That person was high, period. She had no respect for me, my apartment, my friends, herself, or anyone trying to help her. And that is because she was smoking crack. I have zero sympathy for that, because you cannot blame it on anything but yourself. Rot in jail, bitch.
Ok, that was a bit extreme. I do hope this person gets off drugs and gets the help she needs. I don't know where she came from, or what has happened in her life up until now. It obviously wasn't ideal, probably really fucked up, but I don't buy that as an excuse to further ruin yourself. Tough love to you my fellow human crackhead, is sending you to jail.
posted by Ohthemaddness at 1:36 PM
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