The Stripper Chronicles: Chapter 2

At the time, Bill would come pick me up for lunch a lot as well. As a matter of fact, I think we ate lunch together almost every day I worked. The wife and I only had one working car and I think sometimes I was his link to normalcy with the insane goings on. So him getting me away from the store for lunch and he getting to discuss his daily life worked out best for both of us.

Regardless.

One morning before lunch I talked to Bill and there was a stripper sleeping at his house. It's not actually what you think. He didn't sleep with her. He had gotten a phone call saying that she need to be picked up in Keyser at 7am and he did. Then she proceeded to pass out.

Now let me make a side note here. Bill is one of my best friends in the entire world. He would do anything I asked. He truly would, but there is no way in Hell I would ever call him before 10am unless it was pre-arranged. No way. If my car was broken down outside of his house at 8am I would have a tough time knocking on his door. I'd probably call someone else... maybe even his brother... but not him. There's no way I have any desire to wake him. Sleep is nearly sacred to him and I think it's because he seems to schedule it so well while working crazy shifts. Therefore messing with the schedule screws it up for days.

Apparently she woke up. Not surprisingly - she was hungry. I mean everyone's hungry when they've been binging on alcohol for hours on end, that's why Denny's in LaVale stays in business. I think she woke drunk and started where she left off on her gigantic container of Crown Royal, 2 liters if I remember correctly. When she told Bill that she was starving he explained that she'd have to wait, that he'd already made plans to eat lunch with me and wasn't backing out.

Now, Bill is a man of his word. If you take anything from this blog about my friend, I hope you enjoy the humor, but I hope you also realize that this was a great guy dealing with a bad emotional situation as best as he could and doing it relatively successfully. Most admirably, no one got hurt in the process and I still get to laugh at these unbelievable stories.

So the girl gets impatient and after annoying him to death he tells her, "Look, you call him." On my end, one of the other employees at the store tells me I have a phone call and she doesn't know the girl's voice. I pick it up to hear a reasonably sexy voice say, "Hey, Bill?" and when I acknowledge it's me she proceeds to start moaning like I'm paying $1.99/minute for a "good time". I thought, "Oh, how nice, phone sex that calls me." but I knew who it was. I knew straight away that this call was definitely coming from Bill's house.

"Put Bill on.", I said.
"But you don't like it? What do you want me to do? I'll say anything."
"Yeah, that's what worries me. Now put Bill on so we can figure out what we're doing for lunch."
"You didn't even react! I thought I'd get some kind of reaction out of you."
Now, this is where the theme of our friendship at the time was stated as it had been so many times before.
I told her, "Nothing surprises me."
"Dammit! That's exactly what he said you'd say.", and I could then hear Bill laughing hysterically in the background. She finally conceded the phone.

While recovering from the laughing fit he said, "I think Jade wants to go to Chik-Fil-A for lunch."
"Seems to me, she's probably running the show today so that's fine."
He walks to a different room so she doesn't hear him, "Dude, she is so drunk. When I pull up to the store, you just come out. I'm not bringing her in there. Aaron will freak if she comes in there drunk and belligerent."
"What makes you think she'll be any better at the mall?"
"She'll be fine. I think she's really hungry. If we take her straight in and get her food everything will be great."
"Ok. I'll see you in a few."

Now I had no idea that she'd been drinking that much. They get to the store. I get in the car and immediately I can tell I'm going to be annoyed. She's bouncing up and down in the front seat like a third grader... on speed holding a large, clear bottle of liquor, and she's cranking the stereo to the point that my ears feel like they're going to bleed. (He had a very nice sound system in the car) She smells like a brewery threw up a barrel of Jack Daniels mixed with the essence of dog kennel. Then she started asking annoying questions about being a jeweler. "Why don't you give me something?" "Have you ever stolen anything?" "How much do you think my ring's worth?" (it was, unsurprisingly, cheap). That was the longest 2 miles I think I've ever had to endure.

So we get to the mall, head straight for Chik-Fil-A since she's whined about being hungry in between the other irritating requests she's made the whole way there. Bill could tell I wasn't real happy to hang out with her and we were both a little relieved that she wanted to run to a store before she ate. The thing is; she didn't tell us what she wanted and just left. Since she was gone he explained the whole situation to me up to that point while we waited in what seemed to be an exorbitantly long line. She didn't make it back so Bill ordered for her. He barely knew her, so he ordered the basics - chicken sandwich, drink and waffle fries.

We sit down in the food court and start eating when we finally see her again. She moves toward the table gets a puzzled look on her face and heads directly back to Chik-Fil-A. Bill chases after to explain that we already ordered for her and learns that the problem was she didn't see ketchup on the table... little did we know. She came back, plopped down beside me, across from Bill. She must have laid down 20 packets of ketchup - no exaggeration. I passed it off as something drunk people do. Then she got into her purse to show us her findings from that little country store that used to be on that end of the mall. Bill chuckled and said "What the Hell are you going to do with 10 refrigerator magnets? And beyond that, I thought you didn't have any money." and he was correct. We had a smelly, drunk, annoying, kleptomaniac stripper on our hands. This is JUST how I wanted to spend lunch.

As I remember it, when she finally started eating, she ignored the chicken sandwich altogether. She went straight for the fries, but not without some ketchup... lots of ketchup. She ripped open every single packet with her teeth and just started squirting it into this huge mound. Then she'd drag those checkerboard fries through the pile scooping it like dip, gorge on them, rip open more packets, rebuild the Mt. Hood of the condiment kingdom and repeat. I had to back away from her a bit. Ketchup was going all over the place. She was eating as fast as she could rip into those plastic pouches and making noises like a starved dog digging through its first meal in days - but this wasn't her trying to be annoying, she was still succeeding at that, this was the real her at that time.

There was ketchup all over the table. Her face looked like she had been eating ketchup flavored chicken wings. It was dripping down her chin. She had ketchup down her arms to the point that she looked like a surgeon after searching for a missing scalpel. Her hands were obviously covered in ketchup... and I was wearing a white dress shirt. I was praying that I'd avoid collateral ketchup spray and luckily that one thing did go right for lunch.

She finished. We cleaned her up as best we could, (she almost had to be in better condition than she was before she got to the mall), and finally left. My half-hour break had turned into an hour break, and when I finally got back to the store Aaron kind of gave me a dirty look, rightfully so. I told him "Look, believe me when I say, I would have much, MUCH rather missed lunch completely than have to ever experience that again." and told him what happened to unsympathetic laughter.

It turns out that Bill ended up taking her some place else later that afternoon to meet some friends of hers and that house was a complete dump. He told me it was disgusting and had no furniture, just some old ratty mattresses on the floor with no sheets. She couldn't stay there so Bill ended up picking up other assistance and while he walked Jade up to her family's house, his faithful assistant removed everything of hers from his trunk and put it on the sidewalk. As soon as he thought that all the stuff was on the curb, he left the girl screaming at her father and throwing things in the house, got in his car, sped off and hasn't heard from her since.

The Stripper Chronicles

I guess it was 2002, and my friend Bill and I were regularly attending softball meetings just before the season started so it had to have been in the Spring. Now you have to understand, Bill's wife had just recently divorced him, and he was on this weird self-destructive binge, but it wasn't alcohol or drugs - it was women... and normally strippers... relatively average and worse looking strippers... with said alcohol or drug problems.

Meetings for softball were on Wednesdays and we kind of had a ritual. He would pick me up from work. We would go to Boonies just past Brewski's into West Virginia, (I believe that's what it was called - it had the "girls, girls, girls" written in Christmas lights on top of it), and have a drink - normally non-alcoholic. The girls weren't dancing because no one was ever there but most times one or two would be hanging out behind the bar. We'd wait there, chat with them or the bartender, maybe play a few slots, then leave when it was time for the meeting to start. The meetings were at Brewski's and afterwards we would pick up dinner then head back to my house to eat with my family. Bill ate with my family almost every night back then. We liked the company and he never cooked at the time.

On this particular Wednesday there was a particular stripper behind the bar who wanted to have her nails done. We had time, so Bill offered to take her to the mall and we'd pick her up after the meeting. She was thrilled and asked us to wait just a couple minutes while she "changed". We did and she hurried upstairs to the apartment above the club and came back looking the same as when she left... except it was perfectly clear that she had done a line of cocaine.

"I'm ready!", as she rubbed her nose and sniffed a bit. She led the way out the door, up a couple of steps to the parking lot. As she got ahead of us I think we both noticed at the same time that she had a hole in her crotch. A huge hole that wasn't in one of those suggestive places just beside any x-rated parts as was stylish at the time. No, this one was squared on her crotch and there was nothing, I mean nothing left to the imagination. She was ready to have her nails done and work a corner quickie without all that pesky time spent removing clothes. Bill and I just laughed about it.

We took her to the mall, dropped her, informed her we'd pick her up in about an hour and a half then left for our meeting. I overheard Bill tell her that they would go to dinner after and didn't really pay much attention to it.

The meeting was finished in about an hour as planned, we picked up pizza and returned to the mall. We couldn't find her right away, so I talked to the girls at Zales about some repairs I was working on for them at Aaron's (I don't think I mentioned that I was a jeweler at the time) while Bill went on a search. He comes back and she's leaning on him pretty heavily. Somehow she found alcohol and lots of it. She's drunk. She stinks like a pile of weed, a new fragrance for her, she didn't smell quite that bad when we dropped her off, and apparently she's hungry. He's consoling her, telling her that everything will be fine and that he's going to get her some dinner as we're crossing center court when she decides to become independent and walk ahead of us.

I look at Bill and the exchange goes something like this:

"What the hell happened to her?"
"I think she found some weed and lots of alcohol."
"We were only gone about an hour. How the hell did she get that much stuff into her in that amount of time and still manage to get her nails done?"
"I'm not sure, but she's hugry, we'd better get her to your house for some pizza before she starts to make a scene." This is where the quote from my profile comes into play in it's full form. I looked at him, incredulously, and said -

"Let me get this straight..." (I had hand motions that apparently made it much funnier because it became an immediate classic in our circle of friends) "Let me get this straight, you wanna bring a drunk, high, stripper with a gigantic hole in her crotch and no panties to my house for dinner to meet my wife and kids!"

"You know, now that you say it that way, it really doesn't seem to be such a great idea as I'd seen it in my head. You're right. I'll drop you off at your house and take her somewhere else for dinner."

"Good idea. Now, don't drop me off in front of my house. I know I may sound paranoid, but it's a big house even though we only rent half. She knows I'm a jeweler and while I don't make a ton of money everyone automatically thinks that jewelers do. The last thing I need is some stripper looking for her next fix breaking into my house to find drug money."

He dropped me about 3 houses past mine and I watched as they left, went home and served my family cold pizza.

A bit of history, a bit of wisdom

I remember it exactly, that day in mid-August 1995. I was standing in the kitchen of the guest cabin at lake where we were staying for the week before the end of the Summer. I had just received my class list for the fall semester in the mail and Mom had brought it from the house with the rest of the mail. I scanned it once, then again, and one more time to confirm my worst fears.

I wasn't looking forward to one single class except Marching Band, and the only reason it qualified as a class was because they gave a grade.

I was disgusted, frustrated, and a little depressed looking forward to a semester of general misery with two theory classes, piano, voice, and a couple pedagogy classes alongside drumline. I think it all confused Mom a little bit when she realized that I wasn't happy and immediately asked what was wrong. I looked over the list one more time and explained the reticence towards returning to WVU for my sophomore year. The obvious answer wasn't so obvious to me, when she said "Change your major."

"Oh yeah Mom, I'll just change my major. I'll just do something else other than music. Right."
"Why not?"
"I don't know, maybe it has something to do with the fact that I'm 19 years old and 17 of those years have been spent with music." I truly had spent all that time wrapped in the warmth that was a 4/4 beat with interesting tonalities and some off beat stuff thrown in for fun and interest.
"So?"
"So, what? I can't just quit music. I don't even know where I'd go. Besides, I've put way too much into this to let it all go now."
"I think you're making a huge mistake."
"I don't have any other option. Where would I go, Mom?"
"It's not like you have to be great at what you want to do right now, just pick something that seems like fun. What do you think you'd enjoy?"
"The only thing I can think of is theatre, but that's no way to make a living."
"Who cares? If you like it, you should do it. If you go back and hate this semester, you'll regret not making this decision now. Why don't you go to Morgantown and talk to someone about it."
"The only one I can think of is Harold. I'll go talk to him next week, then we'll see."

A week later I went and spoke with Harold Surratt, one of the professors, acting to be exact. I had met him the previous semester through my girlfriend, at the time. He was directing A Midsummer's Night Dream with an amazing set of actors and I kind of worked security for the dressing rooms while the actors were on stage. He had done an amazing job with that play and Comedy of Errors the semester before. He was friendly and I always tried to say "Hi." whenever I saw him around. The conversation with him was probably a lot shorter than the one I had with Mom. I caught him in the lobby at the Creative Arts Center:

"Hey Harold, I was thinking about becoming a Theatre Major."
"You should."
"Well, that was quick."
"I think you'd be a good fit here, and this is a great department to be in. We're all like one big family."
"...But after I graduate, what will the job market look like? How will I make it out there with a theatre degree?"
"There was one important word there. Degree. It doesn't really matter the degree. People who hire are looking for any degree, they don't care what it is and besides, most people never work in the field they studied in college anyways - so why not get your degree with people you like." He grinned because he knew that the people in the theatre department were infinitely more likable than most of the stodgy professors in the music department. I laughed.
"Okay, but I checked the class lists and yours are full. I'm not coming unless I can be in your class."
"Just fill out the paperwork and sign up for my class. I'll make sure that you get into it." And he did.

He became my favorite, most influential teacher that I ever had. No one was better.

In the end, I made a change I didn't regret. My classes were amazing. The department was wonderful. The professors went by their first names most of the time because it truly was that type of atmosphere and it seemed that they didn't need the title of "Professor So and So". It was like it got in the way of their work which was more important than their ego and that was a refreshing change from the stuffiness of the Music Department.

You know, Mom had always bragged about how I sang before I spoke. I had accolades for All-State performances, all-county, competitions, countless rehearsal hours to go along with every other kid's work load, drum corps, performances in front of thousands, my Marine Music Award at graduation, my friends, my family, my reputation - they all had music melded directly to them. It truly oozed from my pores because I believed it was all I knew. I nearly sacrificed my potential at the altar of familiarity and what may have been worse; I almost forced myself to hate music because of my narrow mind.

The music department at WVU was amazing. There were incredibly talented people there, but regardless, if I was one or not, I felt like it was turning from creative expression to a form of audible math where everything was formulaic and creativity along with individuality was kind of frowned upon. I now know that there's a lot more to music than what I believed then, but I feel that, had I not changed when I did, I would be a in a far worse position in life now. I feel I am exponentially wiser, not only because I was a Theatre Major (I only had one semester), but because I can say that when it seemed like there was nowhere to go, when everything in me said that I should stay, I left. I moved laterally to move further forward than I would have by beating my head against the wall that was holding me back. I did it because I was wise... to believe people who were wiser than me.

The greatest presents EVER

I picked the kids up at around 7 Christmas Eve. We went to my uncle's house for a family gathering which, I must say, is always nice. On the way, I gave the kids a few little instructions: Take your shoes off immediately when you get in the door. Give everyone a hug and tell them Merry Christmas. Eat whatever you want, you don't have to ask, but finish it please. And make sure you tell everyone you love them before you leave. They did everything I asked and more. They make it so nice to be able to enjoy gatherings like that.

Liam wanted a drink so I went to help him, but he was already ahead of me. He got to the table with many choices and asked permission to have pineapple juice. With all the other options I couldn't complain about pineapple juice at all. "That's fine buddy, you can have whatever you want."

He grabbed a wine glass for it.

"Don't push your luck! Get a plastic cup."

He just grinned at me.



Christmas morning Alex woke me up and I asked if Santa had been there. "Yes Daddy, but he only brought very small presents."

"That's ok sweetheart. Sometimes there are fantastic things in those small packages. Go wake your brother and you can open them all."

It turned out that she had been up since 7. Looking at the time on my phone it was 8:30 and she hadn't made a peep for the past hour and a half. That in and of itself may qualify her for best daughter in the world.

She brought a groggy yet smiling Liam down the stairs who I greeted with a "Merry Christmas!" He continued to grin and both quickly moved to get me my presents before they would open their's. I got just what I had asked for, but didn't realize what I truly wanted would come after the presents were all unwrapped.

After they both opened their DS's, Liam opened his N-Strike Longshot Nerf Gun, and Alex found her tiny iPod shuffle she asked me if she could call her mom.

"Of course you can call your mom sweetheart. You know you can always call her."

Then I overheard this:

"Hello? Mommy... Merry Christmas!... Mommy, I just wanted you to know that Santa came here and he brought us a whole bunch of presents. They were all small, but they were the GREATEST PRESENTS EVER!"


I think you can see I got exactly what I wanted for Christmas

...in my two small packages. Thanks Santa.

...what are we figh-ting for?

...and I was driving, thinking - "What really is worth fighting for?"

I mean, there's the obvious, you'll always fight for your kids. You want to give them every chance they can get all the while balancing building them up and not letting their heads get to big.

It's somewhere in here that we have our significant other. I think this one depends on a bunch of different factors.

Then, there's your family. Most would fight for their family. Wouldn't they?

You have your friends. I'd say that most would fight for their friends before their family. That's more of a chronological/physical location issue versus desire - you'll always see your friends in a fight or suffering. Your sister's best friend will probably see her's. It's just the way it is.

Now this is where it seems to get sketchy. What comes next? Your work? Pets? That's definitely arguable. I've met people that seem to like their pets more than their own kids. But after this tight little group it seems the whole world falls by the wayside.

Me, it's more about fighting for opportunity. I truly believe that I've fought a good fight at work to make sure that we were compensated and treated fairly. As a matter of fact, I feel like I've always fought that fight more than the rest because I haven't had to really get after too many other areas in my life... but I'm starting to see a change.

I'm beginning to see areas that I need to fight more but as with anything else the fighting has to be balanced with a strong sense of purpose as to what you're fighting for.

I'll give you a good example:
I have noted before that I have this amazing network where I work. Most people would agree that I have the best group of friends, acquaintances, contacts and just plain nice people when I work. They really take amazingly good care of me. The trouble starts when things move on from there.

Sometimes you find people you prefer to spend more time with, and at that point I have to fight. I have to fight with which I feel is more important, the network of friends or the desire to move things along with one because it seems that, without fail, they always stand in each other's way.

Honestly, it was easier when Cortney was around. I wanted to go to dinner with someone. I called her. It was simple. The weeks I had the kids she rarely heard from me and she was fine by that. The weeks I didn't, I could call her 5 minutes before I was ready to leave and she was normally willing to go, regardless of event. No strings. No drama. No rumors. No criticism. Easy.

History has taught me that the network is way more valuable than a date or even a relationship (sorry ladies). It's also taught me that it's better to keep them separate. And it's taught me that picking one from the network to pursue is a bad idea too.

So... is it worth fighting for the balance? Is it worth risking chunks of the network? Is it worth risking the whole thing (don't think that would ever be an issue)? I'm not the hopeless romantic type. I believe there are specific things that happen. They happen by chance and little else controls it.

But like the lady who prayed to win the lottery every day and died before ever once winning. In heaven she asks God why she never won even though she prayed for it all the time. He replies, "I would have been more than happy to help, but you never bought a ticket."


Either way, I'm tired. Night. I'm going to bed.

A mean streak

"...I figure if you remove him, his girlfriend will leave with him."

That was the response when I asked Robert to remove two guys from in front of the kiosk and he asked me which one. I pointed and uttered the statement above. It only got worse from there.

The guy I didn't know countered with a remark and I told the other I did know to remove the "sand" from an orifice the other gentleman would only have had if he were not - a gentleman that is.

It was the beginning of an exchange that ended quickly because apparently I was in one of those incredibly rare moods where I had had enough with things that had gone on up to that point. Maybe it was the season, maybe it was that incredibly frustrating game, maybe it was enough stupid customers to fill another blog post. Or maybe it was a combination of things that culminated into one situation where it was probably wise for the other person to just leave. I probably would have kept going until the guy either threw punches or walked away crying and I'm not really one to start a fist fight, so I guess I'd have preferred the "just leaving", but I think the guy was too little to want to fight anyways.

Who knows, maybe Robert would have witnessed me be disproportionally mean and violent all on the same night without alcohol even being a factor (not that I'm ever violent regardless of drink).

Happy Holidays. (just try not to catch me in THAT "mood")

To everyone seeking advice...

An open blog to the women looking for advice, a shoulder to cry on; I have a message for you:

Yes, you are obviously smart, attractive, hilarious and talented. You have made me laugh more times than I can imagine, and you are on my mind more than you think. Of course I'm worried about your well-being and I'm here to tell you that, yes, your (former) significant other is currently panicking about what they're going to do without you. He is regretting every mean thing he ever said to you.

You really should get that raise and you definitely should look at other opportunities with other jobs - who wouldn't want to hire you? I mean you've done more for your company than anyone else I've talked to, and yet you still don't get nearly the recognition you deserve, much less a promotion.

No, your ass doesn't look big in those pants. You look amazing since you've been working out and dieting.



To the men:


Go grab another beer, your (former) significant other is in a tizzy over her pants again. I think I have her calmed down, but you may want to think about buying flowers or something... after the game's over.