Tuesday, May 14, 2013


We are going to pretend I that I have been posting regularly, m'kay?  Anyone not following that rule will be bitch slapped. Vigorously.

I've come to realize that Titty Whiskers is in dire need of a makeover.  Whether that means an entirely new blog with a new name or just better curtains, I haven't decided yet.

So this is just a heads up folks.  That way no one will piss themselves when the change comes.


Friday, July 27, 2012

How to fill a void

Hello my little twat munchers!  I hope your Friday is going as fantabulously as it is here in the Kingdom.

What has me in such a perky mood?  Well let me show you.

The poor Queen has been miserable lately, what with most of the Royals up and leaving her.  Damn whores. Not to mention a bunch of other crap going on around here that has her down and dumpy.

It's really starting to foul this Kingdom up dude.  I can't sell no booze with this woman moping around attacking people for smiling!

So I decided a night out was in order.  We got all dolled up

and I took her to see Magic Mike.

Five minutes in and that woman was her old self again.

We gave the boy ushers a couple blow jobs and watched that shit 4 times without having to pay.  By the time we left our panties were soaked, our knees wobbly and that old bird was giggling like a hyena.

On our way out she grabbed me and said "Bartender, I know what we're going to do today" and I said "What's that Phineas?"

"We're going to put those John's to work for us.  We'll have our own fucking male strip club, all day, all night.  Jimmy Choo's will be the admittance fee!"

Then she paused and said "Wait where's Perry"...

we have been watching too many fucking cartoons. 

We skipped home and got to work.  First we had to put the boys through a few tests.

This guy gave me a run for my money, damn bastard mixed drinks like I never imagined.  Who knew a cock stir was the best utensil! Good thing the Queen didn't notice or I'd be out of a fucking job.

This was the hardest one of all.  The butt test.  We had them standing every which way, stretching, lunging, the whole nine, to make sure that that ass was tasty in all directions and angles.  That took hours.  But the boys were good sports about it.  Even when the Queen asked if they could show her what teabagging was.

We played a good game of "I don't know how to handle balls" to see if their technique was up to our standards. They happily showed us.  We happily enjoyed.

Then came the ultimate test...

The Queen lost her measuring tape after the first one, so we had to use our mouths and coochy snorchers to measure.  That took a few days.

All passed with flying flag poles.

Once the boys had been thoroughly examined, we had our crew.  Of course then we had to teach them how to dance and strip and man are my wrists and knees tired after all that.  These men are primed, fluffed and ready my friends.

But we have a slight problem that we need your help with.  They are all named John.  The Royals like not having to remember names, half the time we're too drunk to remember our own, but it gets confusing for the customers.  We have to come up with names for all these boys!  Any ideas?

The guy above walked in and we passed out.  We're thinking of calling him Titon, god of the wet pussies. Or Thor...when that man thrusts you hear and feel the thunder baby.

And then we saw this guy below, while on a booze run and the Queen said "I must have him" so have him she did.  
Many, many times.

I have given out two names, this is Bo Dangles, he set the push up standard very high.

This is Sir Mix A Lot, although he asked to be called Jack Daniel.  We are in negotiations.  It may take a while to agree on a name for him considering he keeps changing is damn mind.  The second my lips touch his cock he gives in, it's the weirdest thing.

So there ya go, our crew.  I think they are all happy with their promotions.  No more scrubbing toilets and buying us tampons.  

Cheers Bitches

Thursday, July 12, 2012

What are you gonna do about it?

Ok mother fuckers, I know it's been a while since I've posted and told of all the wild and crazy shit us Royals do, I'm sorry.  Life happens.

Things around Titty Whiskers has been boring as fuck, and around the Royal grounds it's been a bit emotional.  As if we've all been struck with 24/7, 365 day PMS.  Trust me when I say, it's been for the best that I've stayed behind the bar and served drinks instead of telling you about our latest stints in jail.

Many many stints.

We know the Police department reeeeal well now.

But I digress.

I'm trying to clear up the dust that's accumulated around here.  It's bad for business not to mention us twats can't stop sneezing into our shot glasses.  We need to cheer our asses up pronto otherwise someone is going to shot.

So get your high heels on girls, pull up those thongs and lets have us some fun!

Cheers bitches

Monday, March 12, 2012

Getting the dust off the bottles

Am I the first to tell you about our trip?  Wait let me go check the fuckers blogs to be sure...

Why yes, yes I am.  MWUAHAHAHA.

There were a couple birthday's in the Royal family recently, and to protect our asses we won't be naming any names.  Probably because the Queen herself said 'Bitches, it is law that you cannot age.  It means I will age, and I fucking refuse.  No birthdays in this Queendom!'.  We bowed down, said yes your majesty and ran away to switch out her liquor with water and tea to get back to our corner to earn some cash.

Then she declared, we need a new trip, she's bored and for the love of all things holy, FIND NEW TRANSPORTATION.  Well we all looked at each other and said fuck a duck..which the duck squealed with glee until she realized we were exclaiming not promising.  With what money?  We all just spent our monthly stipend on shoes, bags and new wigs for our nightly strip tease.

I would like to take credit for coming up with an amazeballs idea to help with our cash flow.  Boob jobs.

BOOB jobs my friend.  You see, you can use a boob job as a tax write off.  Did you know this shit and withhold it from us?  Why didn't anyone tell us this before?!  So I called up Princess Vet, as she knows those amazing surgeons in the Hollywood Hills, we did a few BJ's, lapdances and one of us may have begged shamed herself with some anal and voila, boob jobs all around.  Even the Queen, was gleefully begging strangers on the street to feel her new accessories.

Go ahead and touch em, they feelz so real!

So with our new beautiful chi-chi's filling out our tops to bursting, tips started coming in wicked fast, it was like watching mushrooms popping up in a meadow...

Our jars quickly filled up and low and behold, we had money for a trip.

Now the problem was, where the hell do we go?  And most importantly, are we barred from returning again?  That's when, another brilliant idea popped up.  We can get around those rules, we can visit and see whatever and where ever we want, with a simple change of transportation...

Look up, bitches!

Monday, January 16, 2012

The life of a Royal Bartender

My typical day begins a little like this:

I sit up and look around and realize the bar is trashed...

There's nothing left to drink

I sigh and drag myself to the closet to change into my cleaning uniform

While the Royals 'hide' to get out of cleaning up their shit

As usual, I get a few things picked up and then Duchess and Princess Vet begin whining like bitches that they are thirsty and hungry.  I have to tell them there's no booze, there's no brownies, there's only ice and water.

"Excuse me?  Do you know who the fuck I am" Duchess asks, Princess Vet says "Ooooh you are so getting it!" and PWT whispers to Duchess 'Go for the boobs, they'll pop and maybe there's Vodka'.

You'd think they'd get the point but no, they is stupid bitches ya know.

Queen comes walking in around this time, as if on cue and totally rehearsed, Big Balls by ACDC playing (I swear it's coming from her skirt) her theme song this week.

"Girls, girls, the Queen has saved you, the limo is packed to the ceiling with all your goodies"

The Royals get in line and saunter outside to get their gifts from Queen.

And I gladly locked the door, ignoring the girls pounding for me to let them in. 

"No way hookers!" I shout, laughing maniacally.  I have a bar to clean, those poor drunk ass circus midgets to release from their binds, and figure out why I have a pool stick shoved up my ass....

How many times do we have to go through this before someone learns their lesson?

Cheers bitches.