What. The. Fuck.

As previously mentioned in the estrogen-powered lesbian gaze of death post, I work part time at a music venue. It is a wonderful gig, I get paid to listen to live performances and check out hot chicks in the club and sometimes ruin someone's night. I have a lot of fun most of the time, and my love of music has been greatly increased by this job.

I've been doing this for a year now, and I have seen a lot of interesting shit. Every show has a unique mix of people; sociologists and/or aliens watching from above could spend years dissecting the behavior of people who come to the club. What I saw last night would make the aliens say "Fuck it, we'll find another planet with intelligent life somewhere else." Of course aliens say "fuck." It's a universally perfect word.

One of the job requirements of a door person is to randomly check the bathroom for anyone doing drugs, sneaking in liquor (retarded NC liquor laws don't allow the club to serve anything but beer and wine), washing the X marks they get for being under 21 off their hands, or anything else that would be considered unacceptable behavior. It's very common to find several people doing any of the above at any show. However, what is uncommon is to walk into the bathroom and find some black dude standing in a stall, door open, facing outward, with his dick in his hand, stroking that thing with reckless abandon.

Perhaps I should repeat that as the beginning to a new paragraph so you can grasp what really happened. I walked into the bathroom and caught some guy spanking his monkey. I was at a loss for words. The only thing I could get out was "What the fuck are you doing?" His reply? "Sorry." Sorry. All that motherfucker could say was "Sorry." I suppose if I really cared, I could have grilled him about why the fuck he was greasing his wheel in our bathroom, which might have been an interesting story, but I didn't care. All I cared about was getting that masturbating bastard out of the club.

Of course it was funny as hell, and once I told the guys at the door why I was kicking that guy out, it became the entertainment of the night. Tales of it happening spread through the club staff faster than herpes through a prostitute orgy. I walked backstage and somehow the guy working back there had already heard. Naturally, when I walked back there, he acted like he was having a stroke (and I don't mean his left side was limp and he was drooling on himself).

I understand that people have fetishes. I understand that some people like to dress in PVC and asphyxiate themselves with a bungee cord while a morbidly obese chick spanks them with a cheese log. Some people like to wear diapers and act like a baby. Some people have foot fetishes and like to lick toes and drink vodka from ladies' pumps (which is fucking disgusting, you fucked up foot fetish freaks. Feet are nasty.) Apparently, this guy is an exhibitionist. Or, he is a black guy who likes to come to southern rock shows and choke his chicken while watching rednecks take a piss at the urinals. Maybe flannel and trucker hats turn him on (he would have had a blast at the lesbian festival show, but none of that flannel would have been in the mens room...). Whatever the fuck it is, I was not prepared to see some dude fapping vigorously when I went to work last night. If his fetish is shocking people...he definitely got his.

Looking back on it now, I'm a little upset that the best I could come up with in the moment was "What the fuck are you doing?" I'm normally pretty witty, but I just didn't have anything quick and funny come to mind (no pun intended). However, even now, I can't think of anything else to say. What does one say when they walk in on a black guy with his jimmy in his hand? Other than "What the fuck?"

I had to do some mind-cleansing exercises last night, but even after taking a mental train to my Happy Place, that image keeps popping into my head. I am scarred. I may need therapy. Or, if I see that guy in the club again, I just need to kick him in the chest. Once for scarring my mind, once more for making me doubt the skills of my wit. Fuck you, you disturbed, cock-stroking motherfucker.

Happy Place...I'm coming. (Again, no pun intended.)