DJ: The Elliot Spitzer prostitute flow chart.
Me: See, now this is why I hate society. I mean, who cares if he buys a whore? Aside from killing her I am cool with it. Even then, it is circumstances such as these that killing a hooker seems acceptable.
DJ: So basically you just want a class of disposable people?
Me: Have you ever been inside a Wal-Mart Super Center on a weekend? I would say we are already there.
DJ: Nice.

Labels: dj, im convos, pop culture, whores

There are degrees of physical attractiveness in this world. While Jessica Biel is "Girl Next Door" hot and Diane Lane is "Cougar" hot, this specimen is the classic example of "Fucked Up" hot. Cute yet embattled face, rock hard abs, horrible tattoos and a penchant for living on the wrong side of the law. Did daddy not hug you enough, fucked-up hot girl? Or did he hug you too much? Does the weed and the booze numb you enough to emotionally handle collecting all the dollar bills from the stage at the end of your dance? Do your three illegitimate children live with your mom or are they being raised by television in a trailer park somewhere? The world may never know what drives you, fucked-up hot girl, but we will keep trying to learn through future arrests and tribal yin-yang tattoos.

Labels: pop culture, strippers, whores

Me: The wife asked me yesterday, "If a comet were to hit the earth tomorrow and end all life as we knew it what would I do with my last day on earth?"
DJ: What did she say?
Me: "I would have a big dinner with all our family and friends."
DJ: What did you say?
Me: "I would pick up a whore and kill her. Then I would come to that dinner."
DJ: I can almost hear her squeal "Matty!"
Me: She did. I am totally and completely serious, though.
DJ: I know.
Me: I would not even have to hide the body.
DJ: Take the body to dinner with you and prop it up at the table.
Me: Even better. "Who is that, Matty?"
DJ: "Dead whore. Pass the butter?"
Me: As in, asking the dead whore to pass me the butter? Because that would rule. "Dead whore, can you please lead us in grace?"
DJ: Then just sit there in silence for a moment while everyone stares at you all freaked out. Then look up and say, "Amen."
Me: I am glad you are my friend.

Labels: dj, im convos, whores, wife

I understand life on the streets is daunting. I am not judging you for climbing on the hood of a car and offering to perform oral sex on an undercover cop. I am even willing to overlook the fact that you have AIDS yet still sell your diseased ass to be violated by anyone with a twenty dollar bill. It is unforgivable, however, to be wearing a Colorado Avalanche sweater in your booking photo. Were they all out of Kenyon Martin jerseys when you stole that from Sports Authority or something? Your only saving grace would be if you lifted a Brad May or Temu Selanne sweater off the clearance rack.

Labels: hockey, open letter, sports, whores

Today while meeting with a client at the downtown Tattered Cover, an unsavory character with crack pipe burns about his hands stopped me while exiting the store and asked for spare change in exchange for reciting one of his poems. I am opposed to giving street urchins any form of compensation (it is not in my nature to enable) so I agreed to the transaction with the caveat that if I did not like his poem he would receive no payment. He agreed, pulled out his mangled spiral notebook and began reciting prose. The poem was surprisingly good, rife with inflections of loss, pain, happiness, despair and hope. I gave him 47 cents, told him to stay off the rock and to keep working the poetry angle. He said thanks and then told me he had to catch a bus that was taking him to a drug test. After his drug test I am sure he was meeting up somewhere with his nymphomaniac girlfriend that has 'Fuck My Whore Ass' and 'Fuck My Whore Pussy' tattooed on her hips.

Labels: denver, drugs, homeless, whores

A term I just coined: whore wash. Inspired by Top Gun when Maverick flew into Iceman's jet wash and sent his F-16 into an uncontrollable tailspin thus resulting in the severe head trauma and death of his wingman Goose. Whore wash is when you walk through a woman's cheap perfume vapor trail causing the temporary overload of all olfactory senses.

Usage: When exiting the elevators after lunch today, I walked through a serious whore wash.

Labels: pop culture, whores