Irony is Lost on Trashy Sluts

Last week some colleagues and I went out for happy hour on John Street. On our way from one place to the next, someone in our party kicked a Vitamin Water bottle, and it landed capside down. We thought it was quite brilliant, as you would after consuming copious amounts of alcoholic beverages (see photo at right).

Deciding that more alcoholic beverages were necessary, as you would after consuming copious amounts of alcoholic beverages, we bar-hopped to another joint on Nassau Street which happened to have bikini-clad wenches slinging booze behind the bar. The two dudes in our party were pretty jazzed about that, and the other broad and I didn't care, as we wouldn't, considering we have our own T&A.

Anyway, at one point I took a picture at or near the bar, I don't really recall, as I wouldn't, considering everything we've considered here, and suddenly, one of the naked bar wenches made a bee-line for me with a "Oh, no! No you di'int! No pictures! Gimme your camera. GIMME YOUR CAMERA!" Now it goes without saying, even though I already said it, that I don't care about tits. Also, it's mind boggling to me that someone who has no problem working for a living in a public place almost entirely nude has an issue with possibly being photographed, but that's neither here nor there.

With the 400 lb bouncer standing over my shoulder, she demanded that I show her the picture I took and delete it. Then she made me scroll forward and backward through the other photographs to make sure I hadn't taken any others. At the sight of the picture above, she said incredulously with a nasty look on her face, "You take pictures of trash?"

"Yep."