A Piece of Advice (III) (886 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.73 on 13 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Goose <goosehkr at hotmail dot com> (View user info) at 2005-07-15 10:59:11 EDT
This is the third, and hopefully final, installment of a story I started telling earlier this week. Part I - http://www.ubersite.com/m/70476 and Part II - http://www.ubersite.com/m/70557 .
I say "hopefully final", but I've got plenty of crazy girlfriend stories, like the one I was involved in, like the one I referred to briefly yesterday ( http://www.ubersite.com/m/70714 ), so I'm sure I'll post a few more eventually.
Now that the linkwhoring is over, a quick recap: I dated a crazy cokehead stripper, who wound up moving in with me. Right before my office Christmas party, her crazy junkie brother moved in too, sort - he took up habitation on my couch. The stripper found out about the party, demanded that I take her, got drunk and gave everyone lapdances, and eventually ran off to Cancun for two weeks with the boss' secretary, who was also my ex-girlfriend.
This means that I still have the junkie brother, Teddy, nesting on my couch. His one hobby, other than obsessivly watching Gene Hackman movies, is getting the meail everyday. The only explination I could come up with at first was that he was high enough to be engrossed with the shiny pages and vibrant color of magazine ads. To be fair, even sober, I sometimes get trapped in them. I am, however, as previously noted, an idiot.
I soon learned what was actually going on with the mail (other than using my cable bill to cut lines of coke, or heroin, depending). Somewhere along the line, I wound up with fantastic credit, and my unemployed spending spree my last two years of college hadn't caught up with me yet, so I got credit card offers all of the time. See where this is going? I should have, but I have never been accused of paying too much attention to important situations, as my parents and teachers were often want to remind me.
So, Teddy takes out a credit card in my name. Now, I'm sure that a number of you have been high on something at one time or another, late at night, and sitting in front of the television, and in hindsight, this makes perfect sense. Teddy went wild on whatever crap they were offering on late-night infomercials. To be fair, the real estate midgets are damn entertaining at two in the morning (especially the intro when they're in the tent).
Around this time, Cindi (with an "i") and the secretary get back from Cancun, and from all accounts, it was fantastic. Apparently, for as freaky as Cindi was with me, you get her a little bit of sun and a non-prescription pharmacy, and she goes crazy. What was fascinating was that she got the secretary to go along with it, since she was kind of a tight-ass up until this point. Both of them thought that I was their best friend, and so I got all the lurid details. Lucky me. The other interesting fact was that they were in love, and Cindi moved in with her. She still left Teddy behind with me; isn't that sweet? Something to goddamn remember her by. Oh, and want to talk about uncomfortable situations? I still worked with the secretary. Every couple of days, she would corner me in the file room and fucking bubble about how great Cindi was, and how happy they made each other, and how she had never had her pussy eaten like that before. Jesus.
Now not only am I confused about how I managed to get my girlfriends to hook up, but without the benefit of me being directly involved, and how to get rid of the Teddy-lump on my sofa, I start getting wierd shit in the mail. The first thing I got was the spatula that was flexible that you could pick eggs up with. I didn't think it was unusual, at first, because my old roommate's mom sent me odd kitchen shit all the time. I did think the packaging invoice was a little out of place, but whatever - you know me. The ginsu knives were also a welcome addition to a kitchen that was comprised mostly of pizza boxes and copsticks from Chinese carry out.
It was the vacuum that really tipped me off. You know the one, the obnoxiously yellow one that the effeminate English guy sells (I wanted to make a better vacuum....so I did - that guy). And the phone calls from collection agencies. The first few times, I had ignored them (I think I would remember ordering an ab roller, or whatever the hell it's called), but they kept coming.
This went on for about two months before I figured out what was going on. The fact that the junked-up crazy man who had been introduced to me and invited into my home by a crazy coked-up stripper might be stealing my mail never occured to me (I know, I know...). Why didn't I kick him out, you might ask? Well...eh. I just never got around to it. I'm nothing if not a lazy bastard. Oh, wait, I'm an idiot too. I keep forgetting. The way I wound up finding out what he had done was that he moved out one day. Well, he didn't move, I suppose - he just left. He hadn't moved in with anything, so he didn't have any crap to leave behind. I wound up buring the couch, though - it was simply too disgusting to sit on, even to somebody with standards of household cleanliness as low as mine. Cindi didn't seen particualrly concerned that Teddy and disappeared - she was still too busy expanding the secretary's horizions.
I did, however, start receiving all of the mail that was addressed to me now, including three more credit card statements than I was expecting, and some very irate letters from a number of "As seen on TV" companies.
This all took place last Christmas, six or seven months ago. As of this writing, I am still fighting with the credit card companies, but who is going to believe that I let some guy I didn't know crash on my couch for three months? My credit is destroyed, so I'm having a little bit of trouble getting student loans to go back to school to further my education (which needs as much help as it can get, believe me). Cindi and the secretary are still together, and I still get periodic updates about their relationship ("Why didn't you ever tell me about rimming!?!", etc.).
So, my advice to you, young uberites - don't date a stripper. Ever. For any reason. Trust me on this. Her cracked-out family will wind up a part of the relationship too. There is something wrong with girls who take their clothes off for money in shitty bars. God bless them, they serve a very important purpose, but that purpose is not to be romantically involved with you.
And for the love of Chirst, don't let them move in. I still can't get that stripper smell out of the curtains.
User Reviews
Submitted by goose (user info) at 2005-07-15 16:02:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
1. Where the fuck was I two years ago? Not dating a stripper. Ah, innocence lost.
2. She didn't pay my bills, but she did cover a lot of other things (trips to Atlantic City, etc.) However, having a stripper as a sugar momma seems a touch closer to being a pimp than I really want to be at this point in my life.
3. The stripper smell you described is pretty close, with a touch of cheap cologne and stale cigarettes, as far as I can tell. Plus, the slight sense of (someone else's) sex.
Plus, if you were a member of country club two years ago, you're not a young uberite, right? I'll toss one back tonight at the bar for you though, since you know what I went through. Cheers!
Submitted by prrr (user info) at 2005-07-15 15:59:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
"how to get rid of the Teddy-lump on my sofa"
tee-hee :o)
Submitted by Vulva (user info) at 2005-07-15 15:29:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
So, my advice to you, young uberites - don't date a stripper. Ever.
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1. Where the fuck were you 2 years ago? Advice a little too late!!
2. Hey, she paid my bills...which was the only way I could afford country club dues.
3. Hospital grade febreeze will take the smell out. I am assuming the "stripper smell" is universal. Was the smell that of a combination of sweat, leather, and baby wipes?
Submitted by SkinnyKenny (user info) at 2005-07-15 15:09:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Loved it. I had a roomate that stole my credit, too. Took me about a year, many many hours, and a file about 2" thick to get it cleared up. And that was just one telephone hooked up in my name halfway across the country from where I live. Good luck with all that, man. It sucks.
Submitted by goose (user info) at 2005-07-15 14:31:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Eh, what can I say? It does kind of fizzle out at the end - it does seem at bit anti-climactic, in hindsight. At the time, I was just happy for it to be over.
I have three sets of ginsu knives now, though, and they're great. I actually have a set devoted to cutting odd things in half (shoes, furniture, cans full of peas, etc).
Submitted by Dizzle (user info) at 2005-07-15 13:16:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Great story, horrible outcome...
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-07-15 12:05:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-07-15 11:39:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"...but I'll tell you what's not cool--killing strippers. Strippers are people too; naked people who may be willing to pleasure you for a price you negotiate later behind the curtain of a VIP room. Besides, there's no reason to kill them, 'cause most of them are already dead inside...Good night, folks!"
--Peter Griffin
Submitted by Deidra (user info) at 2005-07-15 11:30:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good advice!
Submitted by kadunkadunk (user info) at 2005-07-15 11:25:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 for having stripper stank in your house.
-2 for not catching onto the correlation between the guy on the couch and the weird mail .
+2 again for not telling them about rimming so that they have to ask you, and that's always a powerful position to be in, because you can take that pretty much anywhere you want. and include yourself, as well!
Submitted by Mike00295 (user info) at 2005-07-15 11:21:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good Series. I loooove me some strippers
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2005-07-15 11:07:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Your secretary ex needs to read this.
Submitted by Adamdidit2u (user info) at 2005-07-15 11:04:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
A bit anti-climatic, but a good read