I met a new whore last night. But I wouldn'y fuck "Sally" with your dick!
I stopped by Farley's after work for a beer, and I'm sitting there at a table sipping, listening to the annoying beeping of the illegal gambling machines that are in every bar in town when a skinny, ugly, skanky looking bitch sits down at my table.
"Hi, I like to fuck and smoke crack. My husband's in prison, he likes dick even more than I do. Ya wanna smoke some crack and fuck? Hey buy me a beer!"
The uncyclopedia has this to say about crack- "Crack is something that is sold by both drug dealers and prostitutes. The only difference is that a prostitute can wash her crack and sell it again."
I politely refused, but the bitch wouldn't leave me alone. That's what I get for walking into a bar like Farley's wearing my white collar shirt that buttons up the front that I wear to work; in that place I'd have looked like Donald Trump, only without the extra weight and stupid looking combover. Can't that damned fool afford a decent wig? I thought he was supposed to be rich? WTF?
But anyway, if you're looking for a prostitute don't pick one up in a dive like Farley's, and don't get a skinny one even if, like me, you''re attracted to thin women. Skinny whores are almost always crack whores. Find one that's got a good figure if you can afford her or a fat one if you're a cheapass like me.
As the skank was talking crack, I realized that we nerds have much in common with crackheads.
Crackwhores call their crack pipe's screen a "chore". I can only guess that maybe it's work to them? At any rate, as I mentioned in a K5 article a couple of years ago tiitled Growing Up With Computers, the first documented (that I could find) contract for ENIAC, the first computer, was an Ordnance Corps contract with the University of Chicago called "Project Chore" (Wikipedia article unavailable).
Crackheads stay up all night smoking crack. Nerds stay up all night programming and playing video games and posting to slashdot.
When a crackhead has just taken a big hit, they're said to be "geeking".
About the time crack cocaine was being invented, being a nerd was starting to become somewhat acceptable. Apparently the crackheads took over our role as social pariahs.
It took a shot of Captain to put up with this crazy bitch that woudn't take a hint. I finished my beer and left. "What are you, a fag or something?" she shouted out as I walked out the door. Trolling is something some slashdot nerds do, too, although the crackheads are trolling for crack money.
That's one of the things I don't like abut Farley's, the crack whores. I mean, I like whores better than anybody, but crack whores are a different species altogether. Fortunately you can usually tell a crackwhore from a respectable prostitute, as a prostitute will usually smell like perfume while a crack whore will smell like she hasn't bathed for a while.
So I stop by the gas station for a six pack and a few bucks gas on my way home, and as I'm walking up guess who do I ran into?
Odie, the crack whore who stole my car and traded it for crack to another crackwhore who used it to try to kill her parents, as well as my bank card and some blank checks last year. You can see why I'm a bit down on crackwhores.
The last I'd heard from her was six or so months ago, when she'd called me from drug rehab in Bloomington begging me to not press charges for the hundreds of dollars she stole that ultimately cost me a couple thousand.
She greeted me like a long lost friend, wanting a hug. I gave her one. She'd gained weight, most likely because she was clean (and she didn't stink any more either). She said she was working at Hardee's and trying to get her life back together. She'd just gotten back in town a few days earlier.
I went home with my six pack feeling good about myself. Some good had come from that expense; an addict was clean for six months because I'd breezed through her life. I hear "Cassie" is in drug rehab now, too.
I should have studied psychaitry in college.