Tag Archives: comedy

A Cunt Named Troy: How I Didn’t Have A Low Self Esteem That One Time

People who know me know that I have the self-esteem of a wet mop. A bipolar wet mop. A bipolar wet mop with the fashion sense of a schizophrenic lamp. On rare occasions I am empowered and strut the streets like a sexy goddess, but most of the time I feel like I could be described with words such as frog, praying mantis, potato, and greasy McDonald’s takeaway bag. I reflect all of my life’s negativities inwards and it makes me very vile to myself. It’s something I am working on, but that’s not the story I wanted to tell. This is a story about a time I felt like a frog but came out strutting like a goddess.

Oh yeah, and fuck you Troy.

If you’ve never read any of my other blog posts or don’t know me, I’ll give you a quick recap that will give you mega wtf whiplash. Ready? Ok – I used to be a meth-addicted prostitute living in Sydney, Australia. Cool – now go see a physiotherapist for your neck and lets move on.

One of the managers of the brothel was named Troy. I wanted to give him an ugly fake name because he’s pretty good looking and well liked but I was too lazy. So yes, Troy is his real name. He’s totally bald, so at least he’s a failure at something.

Troy seemed to have this weird thing against me. I thought he was a pretty cool guy and I tried to get to know him like I did the other managers, but he seemed to have this chip on his shoulder towards me and some of the other boys. The last time I ever talked to him he really fucked me over so my overall dislike for him doesn’t actually come from this story.

There was about six of us boys in the brothel that night. A few of the boys were very good-looking and fairly popular with clients. I could hold my own against them – I was also popular with the clients – so they weren’t competition for me. It was a quiet shift, not a single client had come by. We were lounging about the Boy’s Room watching tv and playing games on our phones, periodically making small talk amongst ourselves.

When the client bell announced the arrival of an unknown person we all sat up. Someone moaned, “FINALLY!” We could hear the muffled sound in the hallway of Troy opening the front door to let the client inside and the quiet shuffle to the office, where the client would be asked what he was looking for.

There was two ways the client would choose the boy he wanted: The first was that the client would look through photos of us in the office and select boys to interview based on the photos and bio alone. The second was that the client would request to see all of us for an interview. The interviews would be done one by one until the client had seen all of the boys he wanted to see and then he would decide which boy he would spend time with.

Troy opened the door to the Boy’s Room and announced that the client wanted to see everyone for an interview. But then he turned to me and said, “Except you, Cody. There’s no point in going in there, he won’t choose you.”

I was a bit baffled because no one had ever been asked to hang back when a client asked to see all the boys for an interview.

The first boy that went in – a muscular Irish guy – came back and said to Troy, who was standing at the door of the Boy’s Room, “Holy shit! The client is so hot!”

Troy gave him a smirk and said, “I know.”

One by one the boy’s went in for their interview with the client, and one by one they all came back and exclaimed about how hot he was. I felt dejected and disappointed – it was obvious that Troy thought I wasn’t good looking enough for the client. I was also very embarrassed because it was apparent to everyone else as well. In a normal case the manager should’ve just let everyone go in to the interview, regardless if the manager thought the boy would be chosen or not. It was the polite way. Troy purposfully chose to make me look like a fool, and to this day I still have no idea why. Maybe he was mad because I had a full set of luscious hair.

The boy’s all finished their interviews and were giggling like girls about how exciting it would be if they got chosen. Troy left the Boy’s Room and went back to the office to see who the client would pick.

I sat alone in the back corner.

Troy was taking longer than usual to come back to tell us who was chosen. The boy’s started joking that Troy was snogging the client himself and they started laughing hysterically. I thought about going out to the yard to have a cigarette when Troy finally came back into the room.

Troy said, “Cody, can you go see the client in the office.”

“I thought there was no point.” I stated.

“Well he didn’t want any of the other boys. I told him that you’re probably not his type but he still wants to see you. Go, quickly.”

I got up and moved towards the office, resisting the urge to glare at Troy as I walked past him out of the Boy’s Room.

Opening the door to the office was like being hit with a nuclear bomb. The being that sat on the couch could not be human. He was muscular like a bodybuilder, had a jawline like an icepick, had a voice like melted caramel, and was over six feet tall – everything that would make a basic bitch swoon. He was hot as fuck. I sat next to him and told him my info and we had a quick conversation. He rested his hand on my thigh at one point and I blacked out for a few seconds. When I came to I said something corny like “Maybe I’ll see you later” before I went back into the Boy’s Room.

Troy proceeded back into the office once again. He wasn’t even gone for more than 30 seconds before he came back, red with embarrassment and envy, and announced, “Cody, I don’t know why, but he wants you.”

Confetti fell from the ceiling. A chorus of angels materialised and a red carpet unrolled away from me towards the door of the boy’s room. People stood up and applauded. Troy took his real form and reanimated as a snake. I signed a cheque of a million dollars and I cut a red ribbon with a pair of scissors as big as a pair of scissors that are really big.

I strutted so hard past the other boys that when my feet fell they cracked the floor. I basically hair flipped as I past Troy, smirking as I said, “I guess you should’ve let me go in the first place.”

Exiting the Boy’s Room I was flashed with the bulbs of a million paparazzi cameras. I opened the door to the office, and with the dramatic swing of the door I entered with a wink and said, “You called?”

 

 

 

 

 

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An Ode to Australia

Australia can be described in a simple 4-letter word: see you next Tuesday. 
(I can’t count)

Actually, Australia can be summed up in this sentence: cunt.
(Why am I a writer?)

Yes, Oz is a cunt. A big, fat, cunty cunt. A beautiful cunt. The cunt of cunts. Shit cunt and good cunt. All the cunts.

Now that you are used to the word ‘cunt’ you are able to learn more about why Australia is one:

I lived in Sydney, Australia for 2.5 years. I am unable to explain the beauty of it, the vastness of the land, and the persistency of near death. Seriously, this place wants you dead.

First of all, Australia can fuck off with those spiders. I can’t count on a huntsman’s eight legs how many times I woke up with those fuckers staring at me in my bedroom. I’m talking about dinner-plate sized pieces of shit that dwell in your living nightmares for eternity. A huntsman once laid eggs in our bathroom ceiling and we woke one morning to find that our bathroom was an orgy of horrifying demon babies spawned from the depths of hell. After we bug bombed the shit out of the bathroom and cleaned up the war zone of dead baby spiders we still were finding living ones every day for about 2 months.

My neighbour had to be hospitalised three times in one summer for being bitten by a white-tailed spider. She had to get skin grafts. Mother. Fucking. Skin. Grafts.

Lets not talk about the redback spider that was crawling nonchalantly through my friend’s FUCKING HAIR at a party. I told him not to panic but then I panicked. People had to calm me. We didn’t notice where the spider went. It was mayhem.

Or the family of redbacks I found in my backyard with my housemate. Yeah, I became a non-smoker for about a week.

Did I also mention the time I was chased by a MOTHER FUCKING BAT!? I’m not talking about the cute bats that sometimes wander into your home while you freak out trying to throw a towel over them – I’m talking wingspans of 3 feet here. They’re literal foxes with wings. Well, I was face to face with this mother fucker as he rested on a very low branch. I screamed. It screamed. It flew. I ran. It chased me down the street.
Do you remember the beginning of the movie Jumanji when the girl is chased down the street by bats?
The part that gave you nightmares for weeks?
Yeah, me IRL.

“But what about the cute animals?” You ask. No, just no.

I witnessed a little possum hiss at me with the force of 27 satans.

Wombats? Yeah, my friend and I hit one while driving. Dented the fuck out of his vehicle.

Birds seem harmless, right?

WRONG!

Someone in my bus tour through Cairns nearly got attacked by a fucking CASSOWARY! Those cunts look like dinosaurs and will slice you open like french bread.

You’ll hear the cockatoos coming from 100 kilometres away and you’ll pray to god himself they don’t get too close and make you go permanently deaf.

Kookaburra’s are nice tho. 10/10.

But the pelican’s will try and eat your baby whole.

Snakes? Nah.

Kangaroos? They’ll kick ya.

Wanna die by a heap of brainless jellyfish? Just take a short dip in the cool refreshing death of ocean.

The green ants work together to build amazing structures and bring death to you and your family. 

Even the plants-THE FUCKING PLANTS– may kill you.
*Cue Mark Wahlberg touching a synthetic plant and someone running themselves over with a lawn mower in The Happening.*

I’m lucky to have lived through all these traumatic experiences. It makes me appreciate why Aussies are such hard cunts. I feel like an Australian who makes it to 20 years old should win a lifetime achievement award for not getting their eyes pecked out by a magpie.

Despite all these grievances, I still rate Australia highly. If you’ve never been, then I can’t recommend it enough. Surviving Australia should be on everyones bucket list. Ill never forget it, and I can’t wait to go back.

Ill see ya next Tuesday, Australia! (But not really because Australia is expensive as fuck.)