Tales From the Gay Bar – ”The Wooo Girls” or ”Respect My Authoritah!”

Posted: August 20, 2013 in TFTGB
Tags: , , , , ,

Let’s leave Table and the bar where he resides for a while, and instead take a look around one of the parties. You should find your way around well enough, you’ve been here before when you met Violet and her friends.

At these parties I rule supreme. No, that is not (just) my ego talking. It is a deal I have made with the owners. They like to frequent the parties and after a couple of times where they, under heavy influence, overruled my decisions, I had had enough. We had a talk and agreed that; at the parties I answer to no one. This really makes my job a whole lot easier in many ways, and since I continually produce results beyond their wildest imaginations, we are all quite happy with the arrangement.

I have never, and would never, dream of using this power to harm the business (don’t shit where you eat, guys), or to make life difficult for our guests. That being said, there are, at times, some people who deserve a high five…in the face…with a brick…hurled by an Olympic shot putter. The Wooo Girls for instance. Let’s have a look at them!

The Wooo Girls (Straight edition):

You know this lot. You have undoubtedly met them on a night out, and if you were wise, you, ever so slowly, backed away. Their everyday lives are so sad and lonely that when the small period of relative freedom we have dubbed “The Weekend” rolls around, they form small tribes and begin their mating rituals.

First the Wooo Girl must polish her feathers to a shine: This consists of putting on the sluttiest outfit her overstuffed wardrobe holds, applying enough make-up to make a Powder Puff go “Gurrl, srsly?”, and donning heels there is no possible way she can walk in all night, let alone for 10 minutes. All this while drinking a glass (read: bottle) of white wine or rosé, because that’s what the romantic comedies her bookcase is full of, tells her women in their twenties do when getting ready.

Actually let’s just pause at her bookcase for a moment. She still calls it that you know: her bookcase. She’s kidding herself, it’s not a bookcase, it’s a white Billy from IKEA (go on, Google it, I’ll wait), that she has plastered little floral designs on to make it look unique (just like herself). The only two reasons she still calls it a bookcase is because that’s what IKEA calls it, and because that was her intention with it. She meant to fill it with books, but the few books that call the top shelf their home, are a testimony to her failure. Here her copy of Austen, never read and still wearing a “3 for the prize of 2” sticker, squats alongside the entire Shopaholic series, The Devil Wears Prada and a copy of The Perks Of Being A Wallflower she thought was confusing. (The self-help books are in a box under the bed). The rest of this shelf holds her impressive collection of Cosmos and perhaps an “Eat your way to the perfect figure” cookbook.

Okay, back to the story: The Woo Girl has prepped her plumage and met up with the other members of her tribe. They now must ready themselves for the night; they must reach a certain level of Woooeyness before they make the journey to the mating grounds. To reach this level requires the intake of vast quantities of alcoholic beverages (but not beer, Ew, Gross!) and hyping each other into a state of complete abandon.

Now they hit the town! For a reason unknown to all, even themselves, they are attracted to the gay bars and parties. Even if their sworn statement is to “get laid so hard I’m sore for three days”. Here they will swoon over how fabulous and “just like one of the girls” the Powder Puffs are. They will dance with no regard for who is watching and jiggle every asset they possess. And most of all they will behave however they damn well please and no one is gonna stop their fun!

This is where I come in.

At one of these parties I was doing my rounds: checking up on the bars, making sure the toilets looked acceptable and dodging as many people who wanted hugs as possible. I enter the great hall; this is our “Stage with DJ, Dancefloor and a few tables” setup. I am headed for the stage to hear how the DJ’s doing. She’s new, straight and unbelievably hot which could spell trouble. As I skirt the edge of the dancefloor (You never enter! If someone blows up your walkie, it will take you at least 30 seconds to get out of the tangle of bodies. Seconds can spell disaster!) I see 4 scantily clad straight girls dancing on a table. They are Woooing with all of their might. Some already hoarse from the effort of attempting to attract the few straight men that might be attending this party. I steeled myself against the coming confrontation.

I walked over and addressed the leader of this tribe of Wooo Girls. (The one who had on the highest heels, the least fabric and the most make-up)

• Neomety: “Excuse me. Excuse me!”
• Wooo Leader: “Wha?”
• Neomety: “Could you please come down from there?”
• Wooo Leader: “Why?”
• Neomety: “Because we do not dance on the tables in this establishment.”
• Wooo Leader: “Do I look like I care?”
• Neomety: “I care, now if you would plea…”
• Wooo Leader: “Ugh, listen I don’t give a shit who you think you are. Me and my girls are here to have fun, so how about you fuck off at leave us alone?”
• Neomety: “You really should care who I am you know.”
• Wooo Leader: eyeroll “Oh yeah, why is that?”
• Neomety: “Because I am the one that does this!”

Grabs shirt collar and presses mic button

Neomety: “Security to Neo, Security to Neo. I have a situation in the great hall, require assistance.” (yes I did actual walkie-speak, it can seem pretty intimidating to these kinds of pests.)
• Wooo Leader: “Hold on, wait, we’ll get down.”
• Neomety: “Too late”

Two floor people and three security guards wearing stab vests under their white shirts with the security company’s logo on the back rush to my side. Now those of you who have never seen an already broadchested man squeezed in to one of these vests and then put a shirt on top have missed out! He looks like a barrel with legs! So there we are: One Neomety, two Floor People, three Security Guards and four Wooo Girls, like a demented children’s Christmas counting song we are all standing staring at each other, waiting for what will happen. And then I give the small nod. And all hell breaks loose!

Woo Girls a-screaming, Security Guards a-grabbing, Floor People a-cleaning, Neomety a-laughing.

Fiiiive Golden Riiiiings.

Four Wooo Girls, Three Security Guards, Two Floor People. And the girls we-ere kicked outta there.

And there you have it; The Tale of The Wooo Girls. I hoped you enjoyed it and that you, like I do, now have that damned song stuck in your head!

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Comments
  1. I am always in search of funny lesbian blogs and I’m so glad I find yours. You just scored yourself a new, faithful follower! Woooo!!!

    Like

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