Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Stupid, silly life

You know what I don't understand? And I'm being serious here. I don't understand for the life of me how I've managed to stretch this blog into two years of telling you people about bouncing in fucking nightclubs. It's times like these where I sit back and say to myself, "You must be a very fucking talented guy, because you pretty much have the stupidest fucking job on the face of the earth, yet people still want to read about what happens there."

You know what happens in clubs? Nothing. Nothing happens. A few thousand people stand around and get fucked up. Sometimes, they go back to the bathrooms to take leaks. Other times, they go back to the bathrooms to do coke or get blowjobs. Afterward, they go back to where they were, and they stand there for a few more hours. Occasionally, they dance. The men look like retards when they dance. The women don't, so the men follow them around and try to encourage the sex.

A mating ritual ensues. This ritual has made me realize that the people I'm dealing with at the club are several steps down on the evolutionary scale. The women shake their tail feathers. The men strut and preen. Sometimes, they fight over women. Animals do this too. These people can eat a fat dick.

When they fight, we throw them out. Outside, they say a lot of really stupid things. Sometimes they say things that are so stupid that I come home and write them on my website. They're all experts in the use of the double negative. None of them did nothing. All of them did something. I listen to them for a while, and then I get tired and want to go home and go to bed.

When that would happen, I used to take the train home. Sometimes I took the subway, but then I moved and started taking the Long Island Railroad. You take the Long Island Railroad from Penn Station, which is a place that sucks. At 4:30 in the morning at Penn Station, every drunk from every bar and club in Manhattan is waiting to take the train home to Long Island. In Penn Station, they shout, they fight and they throw up. They're socially unacceptable. They made me very tired, so I decided it was time to start driving to work. This meant I'd be putting a lot of wear on my car, and spending money on gas, but it beat sitting around Penn Station with a bunch of drunken Guidos. People who make too much noise in public places are called "cocksuckers."

People are generally nice. When people go to nightclubs, they're not quite as nice as they would be, say, around their mothers. I'm usually very polite around my mother unless she's yelling at me for being such a disappointment. If the whole world would simply act the same way in public as they would around their mothers, society would be a lot better off. Most people don't take their mothers to nightclubs. Some do, and this may sound like a nice thing to do, but I've found that people who take their mothers to nightclubs aren't exactly what you'd call "normal."

Bill Murray made a movie called "Groundhog Day." We've all seen this movie. He keeps waking up to the same shit, day after day after day. I think all bouncers share this same joke. We all reference this movie when we're together talking at the club. I don't know this for a fact, but I'll bet this happens at other clubs. I don't think we're the only bouncers who say this.

Most customers think bouncers are stupid. Most bouncers think customers are stupid. We're the ones who are right. We're being paid to be at the club. You're paying us so that you can come to our place of "business" and dress and act like fools, and to do things that will damage your health. Eventually, you'll meet someone who will give you an incurable venereal disease. Or a wart or a sore. That's not a very healthy thing to spend your money on, when you think about it. But you won't think about it because customers aren't very good at thinking.

Sometimes you make me so angry that I have to strangle you, but that's okay because it's what they're paying me to do. They say, "Remember that time that Rob choked that guy? That was awesome. He's a very good bouncer." Which is kind of an unimportant thing to be unless that's what you're paid to be, in which case you may as well try to do it the best you can. This occasionally involves making you uncomfortable, which is okay because I probably don't like you.

This is okay, too, because I don't like most people and you shouldn't take this personally. If I did like people more, and was a little more sociable, maybe I wouldn't have had to be a bouncer in the first place. Maybe I'd come off better in job interviews. If I had some charm and maybe what you'd call a winning personality, people would have been more tolerant of all the mistakes I made when I was younger. They weren't, though, so I had to stop making so many mistakes.

I try not to make mistakes because it's what you'd call a defense mechanism. When you make too many mistakes, you attract attention to yourself. This is what the customers try to do when they come to the club. When they do this, they look like retards. Kind of like they do when they dance. I don't want to attract attention, and I don't like looking like a retard, so I don't make mistakes as a bouncer. Except one, and that was a stupid, silly one that nobody even noticed, so I pretend it didn't happen. I said something stupid in front of some people, and almost restarted a fight that I had helped break up. That was dumb. But the fight didn't restart, so I caught a break. And since I caught a break, I don't count that one as a mistake.

When you don't make any mistakes, the people you work for think you're a really good bouncer, so I guess I'm probably a really good bouncer. Which means I'm very good at doing nothing most of the time. It means I'm good at standing in one place and killing time and talking to people. It's not very hard, and sometimes you see funny things, like I said. But sometimes that's bad because I'm not laughing at people because I like them. Usually I laugh because I hate you. I'm not in a position to judge you or offer you advice, but I hate you anyway. Which is fine, because I'm nobody.

Bouncing is silly. This is what I've learned in two years. It's a very silly job that contributes very little to society. Bouncers have very silly goals. Some of us want to get laid. All of us want to get laid, actually. Some of us don't want to get laid in connection with our jobs. That's me. I don't want to have sex with anyone from the club. I think this is a wise course of action given where I work. If I worked someplace better, maybe I'd want to have sex with women there, but I don't want that out of my club, because I think the people are dirty and I don't want to get a wart or a sore.

Most of the time I'm thinking about food. I want to end my night at the diner. Or with pizza or at the bagel store. It's a stupid, silly job where you're not thinking big thoughts. My big thoughts are about bagels. My biggest internal debate is butter versus cream cheese. In the summertime, I like butter. In winter, cream cheese. There is a connection with the seasons. I don't know why this is, but I like having a new thing to think about while I'm doing my stupid, silly job. Sometimes I go to the bagel store and drunks are there, making noise after a night at a club. If you go to the bagel store after the club, you should be quiet. People who make excessive noise at the bagel store are also called "cocksuckers," and can also eat a fat dick.

This coming weekend, we'll do it all over again. I'll show up at the club about two hours before you get there, and I'll start setting up the door. If I didn't show up and start setting up the door, life would go on for you as well as for me. This should make me sad to think about, but it doesn't. I don't know why, but this is how it's always been because bouncing is stupid and so are nightclubs.

And that's the way it goes.