Alright, listen up you ignorant slack-jawed mouth-breathing pustule on the human record. I had a shitty night’s sleep last night and I’m upset about other things, so now, I’m going to take out alllll my frustration with vaguely related shit on YOU.
1) Strippers do not as a whole claim to be smart. That kind of generalized bullshit really grinds my gears because you sit here stereotyping us and judging us from your completely fabricated moral high horse when really there is absolutely nothing wrong with my job, and then you stereotype our responses to your prejudiced, backwards, unjustifiable way of thinking. If you can even call it thinking, because a more accurate term would be conforming like sheep to an outdated and religiously themed monolith of sexual theory that actually makes zero sense and is entirely hypocritical. I don’t call that thinking for yourself BUT I DIGRESS.
2) It’s actually really fucking hard. I live in a country where the government does not pay for your schooling and you have to put yourself into serious, agonizing, soul-crushing debt just to go to college and even then, a 4-year degree is insufficient to go into a field where you would even be making equivalent money to the kind that I am now because on top of that $40,000 piece of cardstock that you have to earn not only with hard work and determination but also with the ability to jump through bureaucratic hoops, you then also have to get accepted into graduate school and do another minimum of 2 years of school, but THIS time it’s even MORE expensive because you can’t get any grants or scholarships because get this, graduate students are INELIGIBLE for the few grants and scholarships made somewhat available to undergraduate students - so basically any help that you had in your first 4 years is now GONE. And that doesn’t even fucking cover getting accepted to graduate school because you firstly have to know how to properly apply, and let’s face it, they basically expect you to divine of this knowledge completely on your own because there is nothing in undergrad that teaches you about it unless you seek the knowledge on your own. It took me 2 years to get WAITLISTED for the graduate program I wanted to be in and I have an almost perfect GPA, I’m a member of not one but TWO national honors societies, I’ve received multiple awards and honors in foreign language, oh and I scored in the 89th percentile on the GRE (which, by the way, is an exam that not only learns from your answers and gets harder as you take it, but is ONLY taken by graduate school applicants so I scored in the 89th percentile of university graduates with 4 year degrees all determined to get into grad school, too) and I still got waitlisted because I decided to apply to a really tiny program and that was not a good decision because the smaller the program the more specific your education, yes, but also the more competitive it is to get in.
So how hard is it to get another, HIGHER-paying job than stripping? PRETTY MOTHER FUCKING HARD you witless, pea-brained, poorly researched fuckface. Especially if you’re good at stripping and make money on the higher end of the salary spectrum. Hard to beat out those girls because they make BANK.
3) Let’s ignore the fact that you just told me to quit a high paying job in this economy in favor of a minimum wage job flipping burgers or stocking shelves where I’d make maybe $400 a week in a global situation where even Burger Kings aren’t often hiring… let’s ignore that. Because honestly, the unemployment issue is empirical. Everyone can see it. Everyone is struggling with it. I don’t have to argue about it with you. It’s also very, verrrrrrrrrrrry simple math to determine why someone would choose stripping over a minimum wage job, which BY THE WAY, has its own problems. Like burning yourself on grease and getting treated like shit by your customers and micromanaged by your boss and cleaning up slop and generally other disgusting shit so I guess my third point is that EVERY JOB HAS A DOWNSIDE OR TWO TO COMPLAIN ABOUT. Nomatter what you do, you’re going to have bad days on occasion, or issues with coworkers, or a shit customer. I know, I worked in retail for YEEEEEARRRSSS. And you don’t need to listen to me, just google the customer is always wrong and find that website where people who work customer service jobs can submit instances where they’ve been downtrodden by the general public because everywhere you go and no matter what you do for a living, PEOPLE FUCKING SUCK. Exhibit A: YOU.
4) YOU. You’re the kind of person who is so cowardly, you have to spout your elitist propagandist fallacies on ANONYMOUS because you know if you were to show your face here, not only would I tear it off and eat it for breakfast, but then all my stripper friends and supportive and lovely fans would, too. Because you know you’re wrong. And that’s not even the worst part about you. The cowardice is absolutely nothing compared to the ignorant, judgmental rigidity that would cause you to get on ANOTHER HUMAN BEING’S BLOG, completely uninvited, and mouth off at her over HER JOB because you don’t think she has the right to complain about the abuse she puts up with on a weekly basis. BOO FUCKING HOO. You don’t like my job? You don’t like me complaining about shit I put up with because of it? TOO FUCKING BAD, SHIT FOR BRAINS, because I’m about to launch a biiiiiiig fucking complaint right the fuck now. Are you ready? Do you have your judging face on? And your appropriate religious text in hand? And your butt into other people’s business pants on?
Because BY FAR the WORST thing I have to put up with in this job (which is a perfectly legitimate, legal, and for the most part lovely job) isn’t even the occasional physical assault, or the constant rejection from customers trying not to spend all their money, or even the drama that my coworkers kick up consistently. The worst part of my job is YOU. Coming in here like you know more than me, like you’re better than me. YOU DON’T FUCKING KNOW ME. YOU DON’T KNOW ANY OF US. You don’t know where I come from or what I’ve been through or how high or low my IQ is. YOU DON’T KNOW. So don’t come in here calling me stupid or insinuating that I don’t know how to plan or run my own damn life because chances are that I’m doing a lot better than you are, and the proof is that your life is SO unfulfilled that you feel the need to take your unhappiness out on complete strangers on the internet. People like you, judging others by your pseudo-religious standards, are a fucking blight on this world.
If I want to take off my clothes for strangers for money, then that is my right, my prerogative, my privilege and MY DECISION. It is none of your business to sit there behind the anonymity of a computer screen and dictate to me how to live my life and how I should feel about it, too.
I think out of the two of us, YOU are the one who needs to be reevaluating your life choices.
In conclusion, I would like to take this opportunity to announce that I am DONE fending off immature, ignorant haters like this. From now on, I can’t hear any of you over how much money I am making, and I will not be responding to any of your ridiculous bullshit. It is not my responsibility to educate every narrow-minded asshole on the internet, nor should it be. I’m making a difference to the people who matter and I should not have to deal with people who come here with a closed mind declaring that I need to defend myself in some way for having a job that they don’t like for arbitrary reasons.
Stripping is for anyone who wants to do it and has the ability to do it, and also for the heroic tough-skinned ladies who can put up with this shit every fucking day of their lives. Keep doing what you’re doing ladies, because it’s nobody else’s fucking business.
I’m fucking heated.
Omg some people are fucking dumb, dude. Fucking anons, know-nothing peasants. I better go comfort myself with a big ol’ stack of 100’s. Lololololololololol
This is the best takedown of an ignorant anti-SW anon that I’ve EVER seen. Chills, I tell you!
I laminated a paper towel
why does this have 31 thousand notes
You made it useless but also prevented it from the end it was predestined for.
But wait this is actually freaking me out though, it raises so many questions about the otherwise incomprehensible meaning of life as a collective whole versus personal sustenance and longevity
Imagine if one day you were given a choice: Become immortal and indestructible for eternity, unable to be harmed by anything ever again, and get to live forever.
However, in order to achieve that you must give up whatever your purpose in life is. Whatever it is that you were always meant to do, what you were supposed to contribute to the overall scheme and future of the life of the universe, your purpose… the whole reason you were even created, even born in the first place. You must give that up. You don’t know what that is. You’ll never know; But, regardless, you say yes.
Perhaps you assume you wouldn’t have made any sort of significant difference anyway. That butterfly effect theory or whatever they call it? Nah, you call bullshit. It doesn’t matter - you don’t matter, at least not to anything outside of your immediate connections - and it’ll all be fine, and you’ll just live forever with minimal (or maybe even no) consequences.
So, yay! You’re now immortal. You’ll never die or get hurt ever again. Wee!
But then, centuries and centuries later (not to mention that by this point you’ve gone through horrible heartbreak and misery and despair because every loved one you ever had, every friend you ever made, ever person you barely got to know, has passed away, died as you lived on long without them, helpless to do anything for them as you watched them perish, unable to ever go with them or ever see them again. But I digress), now, you learn you actually were important in the grand scheme of things. You were supposed to be a key factor in the world’s survival, long ago; but, because of the choice you made (immortality over individual purpose), you were never given the knowledge or awareness or resources or ability to save the world that you were always supposed to obtain, before you unknowingly made the wrongest choice to ever wrong.
Needless to say, you’ve fucked up big time.
The entire universe as we know it is destroyed soon after this horrifying revelation. It implodes, collapses in on itself, essentially forming a massive black hole or something. Stars, nebulae, galaxies, solar systems and planets, worlds and worlds of living people and things, and light-years of time and space and life, all sucked up into absolute, indefinite nothingness.
But you remain.
Just you. Floating amongst, spiraling around, rocketing through, suspended in… nothing. With a feeling of such unbelievable loneliness that your feeble brain can hardly perceive, can’t possibly hope to comprehend. Not only are you the only living thing left, you don’t even have one inanimate object to keep you company. You have literally. Nothing. And you are literally nowhere. I mean, technically, you are now the universe - if it would bring you petty comfort to think about it that way. You. Only you. With nothing, no one, nowhere. Forever. And ever. And ever.
All because you thought you didn’t matter. That you had no real, meaningful purpose. That you could never possibly make a difference.
But you did. And now look what you’ve gotten yourself into, you silly nugget. You’re gonna be pretty bored and lonely for that eternity, huh?
Or maybe it was out of selfishness. Maybe this wasn’t because you felt useless, but because you simply only cared about prolonging your own life and nothing else. Hm.
The moral here? Be selfless, and always know and remember that you matter.
Or else, one day, you might destroy the universe. And be left to suffer, and be tortured horribly and endlessly by the void of nothingness that has consumed you. With no way to escape. Ever.
Other moral because I got sidetracked from my initial point - all things considered, would you choose longevity over purpose? Immortality over meaning?
OR, IDK, MAYBE SOME IDIOT JUST LAMINATED A STUPID PIECE OF PAPER TOWEL FOR NO GOOD REASON
AND MAYBE I SHOULDNT BE LOOKING FOR THE ANSWERS TO THE MEANING OF OUR SHORT, FRAGILE LIVES IN
T OW E L
I D K
Write. A. Book.
What if I did write a book
and the pages of that book
were made out of
this is sounding pretty NGE to me