Type A-Pathetic

Setting: A popular, skanky, awesomely trashy Hollywood strip joint.

Main Characters: Me and Wire (the hottest stripper of all time, but for some reason has a fucking American Gladiator stage name...I'm pretty sure that if your fucking name is Wire you should be going toe to toe with Venom, Siren, and Wolf in the Eliminator....Whatever happened to the classics like Caramel, Candy, Trixie, Daphne, Dahlia, Angel, Roxanne, Ivy, and Nougat?

Scenario: Wire sidles me, and barely gets through asking me if I would enjoy a dance before I hastily blurt out "What is-meet you in the back room", in true Jeopardy fashion (that's my schtick, get over it, everyone has one, so get off me.) Strippers don't watch TV because it's hard to work the remote while hanging upside down from a semi-sturdy gold pole, so my reference goes flying over her head. One thing leads to another, we start chatting, and she tells me she is a Type A personality. I say "Yea, no shit", apparently like a true bastard, because she gets up and leaves me there reciting the pledge of allegiance to my confused, half masted flagpole. Her exact words, "Fuck you, I'm outta here!"...

Conclusion: Never call yourself a Type A personality if you don't want other people to agree with you...You stupid, rump shaking, sensitive, biiiiatch.

I Never understood the whole Type A thing. People seem to take pride in having these personality traits. Last time I checked, people who were impatient, over eager, highly motivated, self indulgent, aggressive and highly competitive were just a fucking pain the neck (you might be curious as to why I opted for neck instead of ass...try getting hit in both spots and see which one is more of a pain, you dicks.)

"So tell me a little bit about yourself, John"..."Well sir, I am a real go getter, one of those Type A Personalities...you know"..."John?"..."Yes, sir?"..."Get the fuck out of my sight because you disgust me." That is exactly how every conversation should end after someone reveals this about themselves. But for some fucking reason they love to describe themselves as Type A, and hate the shit out of it when you agree with them. Just like Wire...

They get all hot and bothered when you say "Yea, I can see that." If you don't want me to agree then don't put it out there on the fucking table. I don't go start shitting out phrases like "I'm a real Type B personality, I just sit on my fucking carcass all day and pull my pud until it's sore. Then I fix myself a daunting bowl of apple jacks, and verbally beg my clock to fast forward itself to 5:30 because I can't wait another nano-second for Fresh Prince to start. BECAUSE I don't want people to agree with the fact that I'm a lazy piece of dogshit with less drive than a slashed tire. (I actually don't even know what personality type I really am. You really can't classify yourself one way or the other because sometimes people are A and sometimes people are B.)

In Wire's case, she has to be Type A at work. If you're a stripper and you sit there with your hands under your ass, picking your nose and scratching your baby door through your baggy sweatpants, you're gonna make shit for money. But I can't imagine her going home and continuing to play the part. I don't think she gets in the bath tub and makes her kids come in and slip her singles under her shower cap while she Sham Wow's her snatch with a Louffa (the single greatest word/sponge of all time...fact...If you wash up with a Louffa, then you should hop out of the shower, dry your hands off, throw on your slippers, and light up a smoke, because CONGRATULATIONS, you just had sex with yourself...fact.) My point is that you can't be one way or the other all the time. I'm lazy as shit but if a shark is swimming after me, I'm not going to half heartedly tread water, throw a thumb in my ass, and amuse myself by throwing a patch of seaweed over my head and quipping "Look everybody, I'm Bon Fucking Jovi!"...

I didn't say anything wrong, Wire...You just got all heated under the g-string and stormed off...just like a Type A bitchcunt would. Lucky for you, I'm so Type B that I couldn't give five fucks...I should've have made you take a shower with me...and had you scrub me down with my favorite sponge, while I pretended to care less...a stripper's worst nightmare - an uninterested, indifferent, Type B piece of shit, a.k.a. ME.

Wire: You don't even seem excited...Do you want me to change the water setting to Stream instead of Jet? Woops, I just dropped the soapy sponge.

Me: I don't really care...Now that's "aloof huh?"...

Wire: Real cute.

Me: Fuck I just cut myself with the razor by accident, I'm losing blood at an alarming rate. I might need a transfusion. You're Type A right?

Wire: Fuck you, I'm outta here!...

You can't win...