search your feelings, you know it to be true.

i got a new laundry hamper. now i roll up on my bike, two hampers, a back pack full of stoges, new flask in the pocket. medium pimpin, baby.

another guy tried to talk me into selling drugs in the b-room.

"whatuya make in here? twenty bucks? that's shit. imagine if you had some yay"

"sir, i don't know nothing about that."

"aw c'mon, you give stoges for tips, what about a lil bud?"

"nah, i'm alright."

his buddy walks up, and backs him up.

"yeah baby, you should move some o dat powdah. i did last night." he proceeds to put his hand out as if on the back of some bent over hottie, "and made," *humps his arm pallus* "six hundred dolllaaasss"

this tall man walks in. "alo," he says in a strong french accent.

as i hand him a towel, he begins, "there is nothing like this in france. i don't know it is very interesting."

"yeah, a lot of my friends told me this job seemed like it was out of some 80's miami vice or something."

"yes,"he says--seeming to me, a little confused--"the clubs in france it just would not work. do you have gum?"

"yeah, sure."

i hand him a piece, and he gives me five dollars.

"wow, thank you sir, how much do you want back?"

"no, no, no, no. this, for you"

"thanks a lot, lemmie know if you need anything else."

as he opens the door to leave he turns around and says "may zeh force be wizzu"

i respond with a live long and prosper.

"exactly," he says smiling.

later, when encountering another frenchmen, i ask if they are there together. he says yes and informs me via sick videos on his iphone they are on a team of skydivers who are touring the US for competitions. you can visit their website, Reflex Parachutisme.

remember, if you tip, i'll plug ya ;)

congratulations, you have a huuuge dick.

man oh man. people at clubs have hearts! you don't know how many times i've heard "i feel so bad, i have no money...you're the man though." it really gets to people when they can't tip me. life must be so hard for their broke asses, buying 4 dollar miller lites, 50 dollar half bottles of vodka, and 20 dollar hookahs. those broke ass chumps! it's okay, though. there's always a silver lining. like on my last shift, i washed all my towels way early, made sure i was ready for my shift on time and everything. i open up my bag after i've set up the table...i forgot to get new supplies. fuck. i have less than half of three packs of cigs, no condoms, no gum, and no cigars. alright. i look in my wallet: cardinal sin, i forgot change.

too many times tonight i can't make change for a 10 or 20 and lose at least two bucks each time. the big boner patron from the first post comes through, however. every time someone washes their hands he says in his argentinian accent, "tip this man! he has four children!" as the night progresses, i've more children than i have fingers and have three sick dogs. thanks, guy.

i got a hug on this shift. a somewhat rare, yet no out the ordinary occurance, most of the time i get hugs from cute guys. this one was no exception. minus the trucker hat he was quite the looker. somewhere between jeff buckley and paul j. alessi (the actor who contracts HIV in TLC's 'waterfalls'). maybe jeff buckely is pushin it, but hey i was drunk.

to end the night, this guy stumbles on in with a half full bottle of bubble gum vodka. as he pisses, he raises it violently screaming "my girlfriend just told me i have a big penis!"

no response...

he turns around. we make eye contact. "my girlfriend just told me i have a big penis!!!"

"congratulations, man. i'll drink to that!" i finish my rum and coke and he takes a shot.

"hell yeah dude," he says, "take a shot of this."

i drink the lukewarm bubblegum vodka. it goes down like some kind of reverse acid reflux cotton candy face fuck. "uggggh..."

"aw c'mon man, take another," he pushes.

"alright man, to your dick!"

*glug glug fucking glug*