Yup, that's right. My humor has ceased to get me through this farce of a job. I'm going to say, tonight and last night were mostly shit so this is really, really negative... but so is my life right now and I'm blaming it on the industry.
I do what I want.
Why such shit?
Another night of frustrating amounting to tears that may or may not be cried because I have guys come and go from my stage because I didn't make physical contact with them. That in and of itself doesn't make me cry. It's the frustration of knowing you could be a great dancer and making nothing for it. It's the frustration of knowing that you are at least average, if not above looking and while many women strive to achieve that, and many asshole men make their girlfriends need to achieve that, guys (most that come into clubs) aren't putting their money down on the gorgeous girl's stage.
I am not alone in this. Don't think, oh maybe she just thinks she is gorgeous and really is hideous and that's why she doesn't make money. Nope. It's a phenomena of strip clubs and life. The most attractive, the most talented, the ones with great personalities... they make nothing compared to the ones that laugh like they are drunk and finger fuck themselves. I figure the guy might imagine a paper bag over the girl's head. I don't even fucking know.
I feel beaten and bruised. More emotionally than physically. My physical bruises don't frustrate me or leave damage once they are gone. I don't care about those. I'm pale, they happen.
It's the scars and the hardness you develop from showing up to the stage to perform for the bored and overstimulated.
I'm a fucking girl, a cute one, with a good body standing in front of you, above you so you get a better view, with barely anything on, about to spin around and do things that could make me fall and break my neck... for you. Instead of be thankful it's always "what else" or "can I touch" or let me blow on you. This isn't an interactive show. It was not meant to be interactive, that's called a whore house.
The worst part is the roller coaster ride of it all. You're high some days because you made a decent amount of money (to you, other strippers would laugh at your good days which you try not to think about or that makes you cry too) and life seems alright. If that could happen all the time or even most of the time there wouldn't really be an issue. Besides the not really being able to date due to the strain the job puts on relationships.
But then those days come where you make nothing for doing everything (well, not everything) and other girls are skipping around drunk as fuck and practically throwing money around because they let custies touch places that only doctors and sex partners should touch (i mean, besides yourself). Or they finger themselves to make the same amount smart girls would just give a dance for.
Please ladies, charge extra for doing more. I mean, if you're going to do it, and obviously you are, charge more.
This is not my industry, this is not my scene and I can't be a feminist in the clubs I've worked in and somehow think it's okay. Do I think it's impossible to be a feminist stripper after it all? No. I just worked at the wrong clubs and possibly in the wrong city.
I think it's a sad reflection on society when guys sit at a rack bored out of their minds with a vagina or titties around a foot away from their face. Am I suppose to shoot ping pong balls out of my black hole?
You're going to tip me $1 and expect me to want to take my top off? One dollar? Girls the Go Wild get more than that. They get free alcohol and hats and shirts, all of which cost more than a dollar. Seriously.
I'll have a couple more posts after this one, sum up my experience. Maybe find some highlights of this journey. But tomorrow night is my last actual night of working. I'm ready to break mentally.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Alright! Time For Some Positivity
I've been absent from here for a bit. Yes I know, that's always the way with me isn't it. Just can't rely on my blog posts, I just keep you waiting.
Well, deal.
But I love you for reading. Believe me.
So, for a slight change of pace tonight I decided I'm going to write about some of the reasons I actually stick with this job. I've already decided for now, at the clubs I am at, this job is like an emotionally abusive relationship, but that's not very positive and so we'll forget the lows right now and just talk about the highs...
Perks/highs:
- drugs, copious amounts of drugs...
No, not seriously. I don't partake in drugs BUT many of the girls do, there is some logic behind the stereotypes though I do know quite a few women who manage to keep the drugs in the spare time and the work in the work time. To each there own right?
- the shoes
Literally, they are high. Like towering sometimes. I've never felt so tall. I try not to stand up next to tall customers after a dance without my shoes on. Just makes me feel short again. I use work time to pretend I'm larger than life, but not fatter than life... just longer.
- my ass
The aforementioned shoes make it lift a bit. It's not necessary... believe me, my ass looks just as decent if not pretty effin fan-tASS-tic (haha get it... yeah, that's a good one) when I'm in flats but whatevs. This is not a place for reality.
-my ego...
This one could go either way, but we'll talk about overall. While I may not make great money, (yet, I'm still holding out hope for this one club and it's potential...) I do realize daily that I'm really frickin pretty, my face is pretty symmetrical, again... my ass, dudes off all ages/races/etc comment on how "perfect" my body is, even better... Women tell me my body is rockin and or perfect (and they aren't trying to get me into bed... most of the time)
Also, other girls I work with sometimes gush about how they like my dancing style. Thank goodness. At the very least, even if I am not making money, I am looking the part of an experienced/talented dancer. I think my mind would explode if I was a shitty dancer.
- letting go of sexual norms
We talk about anything and everything in the dressing room. Some conversations guys would love to hear, other conversations would make guys want to cut their own dicks off or at the very least turn gay. We're just as bad as a dude's locker room... you can't get more gnarly than some of the conversations I've taken part in.
There are so many reasons why this is great...
I'm stoked to be a part of a group of women that is open with each other about their bodies. I come from a group of friends, or several groups of friends that just didn't talk about sex in depth or any body functions. Yes some of the conversations might have been embarrassing to start or be a part of in high school or even beginning years of college but it would probably have made me feel less self conscious about a lot of things, mostly concerning sexual interactions with males.
The super fun part... getting to experience/watch/enjoy other women. Most males are totally okay with female on female action... as long as they are involved or allowed to watch. Fine. But I'm not making out with a girl at a party in front of a keg just so frat boys will cheer. That might make me hurl.
What I will do is give your girlfriend a lap dance and not touch you at all. I'll let you watch, but all of my attention will be on her. Boobs are fun, women are fun... especially when they are open to other women.
This is a thing that not all of the girls I work with consider a perk. There are a few SUPER STRAIGHT women that I work with and it blows my mind. Great girls, not homophobic, just not interested.
I'm the other side, Oh a girl wants a lapdance? SHIT YEAH!
- more perks? my boobs
Before this job, well, before getting my nipples pierced I was VERY self conscious about my small boobs. I didn't think they had a nice shape, I felt very teen at best looking. Then I started showing them to people, first so they could put a needle through each point and then later for money. My boobs almost get as much positive attention as my ass. Good job ladies. Don't worry, unless you get sloppy after babies, I won't try to make you bigger.
- last perk... the scheduling
I had a real job before I started doing this for months on end. I was decent at it (just don't ask my dad for a reference...) and I could have gone more places with it. But there were a lot of little things I did not like. At least not for this point in my life.
I hated being almost physically chained to a desk. I felt like a needed a really good reason to get up any time I did. Sorry, I like moving around.
I also hated feeling like I had to stay in the building. Why can't I take my laptop down to Starbucks and get some research done for an hour? Why do you need me at the office every second? Call me when you need me please. Otherwise, I'm going to do some other things.
Waking up early was another complaint of mine. I'm generally not a morning person unless I am staying up for it. What people call super late I call early to bed. Maybe it's several years of practice, but I'm usually not ready to be really friendly and outgoing until after noon... at least. At night? Oh man I'll be a social butterfly (most of the time if I haven't been running around all day like today).
This job lets me pick my schedule. At most clubs, if I want to cancel I can... sometimes there will be a fee. (this will not be true for my dream club but that's a price you pay for the best tips in the city)
Aaaaaaand I'm spent. That was a lot of positivity for me in one sitting.
Next post I'll probably be back to my old ways.
Enjoy this while you can. Reread it if you want.
-D
Well, deal.
But I love you for reading. Believe me.
So, for a slight change of pace tonight I decided I'm going to write about some of the reasons I actually stick with this job. I've already decided for now, at the clubs I am at, this job is like an emotionally abusive relationship, but that's not very positive and so we'll forget the lows right now and just talk about the highs...
Perks/highs:
- drugs, copious amounts of drugs...
No, not seriously. I don't partake in drugs BUT many of the girls do, there is some logic behind the stereotypes though I do know quite a few women who manage to keep the drugs in the spare time and the work in the work time. To each there own right?
- the shoes
Literally, they are high. Like towering sometimes. I've never felt so tall. I try not to stand up next to tall customers after a dance without my shoes on. Just makes me feel short again. I use work time to pretend I'm larger than life, but not fatter than life... just longer.
- my ass
The aforementioned shoes make it lift a bit. It's not necessary... believe me, my ass looks just as decent if not pretty effin fan-tASS-tic (haha get it... yeah, that's a good one) when I'm in flats but whatevs. This is not a place for reality.
-my ego...
This one could go either way, but we'll talk about overall. While I may not make great money, (yet, I'm still holding out hope for this one club and it's potential...) I do realize daily that I'm really frickin pretty, my face is pretty symmetrical, again... my ass, dudes off all ages/races/etc comment on how "perfect" my body is, even better... Women tell me my body is rockin and or perfect (and they aren't trying to get me into bed... most of the time)
Also, other girls I work with sometimes gush about how they like my dancing style. Thank goodness. At the very least, even if I am not making money, I am looking the part of an experienced/talented dancer. I think my mind would explode if I was a shitty dancer.
- letting go of sexual norms
We talk about anything and everything in the dressing room. Some conversations guys would love to hear, other conversations would make guys want to cut their own dicks off or at the very least turn gay. We're just as bad as a dude's locker room... you can't get more gnarly than some of the conversations I've taken part in.
There are so many reasons why this is great...
I'm stoked to be a part of a group of women that is open with each other about their bodies. I come from a group of friends, or several groups of friends that just didn't talk about sex in depth or any body functions. Yes some of the conversations might have been embarrassing to start or be a part of in high school or even beginning years of college but it would probably have made me feel less self conscious about a lot of things, mostly concerning sexual interactions with males.
The super fun part... getting to experience/watch/enjoy other women. Most males are totally okay with female on female action... as long as they are involved or allowed to watch. Fine. But I'm not making out with a girl at a party in front of a keg just so frat boys will cheer. That might make me hurl.
What I will do is give your girlfriend a lap dance and not touch you at all. I'll let you watch, but all of my attention will be on her. Boobs are fun, women are fun... especially when they are open to other women.
This is a thing that not all of the girls I work with consider a perk. There are a few SUPER STRAIGHT women that I work with and it blows my mind. Great girls, not homophobic, just not interested.
I'm the other side, Oh a girl wants a lapdance? SHIT YEAH!
- more perks? my boobs
Before this job, well, before getting my nipples pierced I was VERY self conscious about my small boobs. I didn't think they had a nice shape, I felt very teen at best looking. Then I started showing them to people, first so they could put a needle through each point and then later for money. My boobs almost get as much positive attention as my ass. Good job ladies. Don't worry, unless you get sloppy after babies, I won't try to make you bigger.
- last perk... the scheduling
I had a real job before I started doing this for months on end. I was decent at it (just don't ask my dad for a reference...) and I could have gone more places with it. But there were a lot of little things I did not like. At least not for this point in my life.
I hated being almost physically chained to a desk. I felt like a needed a really good reason to get up any time I did. Sorry, I like moving around.
I also hated feeling like I had to stay in the building. Why can't I take my laptop down to Starbucks and get some research done for an hour? Why do you need me at the office every second? Call me when you need me please. Otherwise, I'm going to do some other things.
Waking up early was another complaint of mine. I'm generally not a morning person unless I am staying up for it. What people call super late I call early to bed. Maybe it's several years of practice, but I'm usually not ready to be really friendly and outgoing until after noon... at least. At night? Oh man I'll be a social butterfly (most of the time if I haven't been running around all day like today).
This job lets me pick my schedule. At most clubs, if I want to cancel I can... sometimes there will be a fee. (this will not be true for my dream club but that's a price you pay for the best tips in the city)
Aaaaaaand I'm spent. That was a lot of positivity for me in one sitting.
Next post I'll probably be back to my old ways.
Enjoy this while you can. Reread it if you want.
-D
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
HA I thought THAT night was the worst
So, this month has been iffy. And by iffy I mean shitty money wise. I don't think it's hit EVERY dancer this hard (some tits are just recession proof I guess) but it sure has got me on the down and out.
I realized while sitting with a friend at work today that rent is due here in oh, 4 days. Luckily I have an extra couple of days but I'm still not happy about this. I have three shifts this week at my current clubs, I left a couple days open for the new club that I like a lot, but unfortunately nothing matched with my availability. :/ Seriously bummin.
So I have two shifts left this week, hopefully I can score a third and in that time I basically need to come up with all of my rent. Not going to lie, if things keep going as they have been the past 3 weeks then I'm up shit creek without a paddle really. Yup, hands paddling shit action. It might be happening. Don't worry, I always carry antibacterial... but I also bite my nails.
Grossed out yet? Me too.
I'll move on. So while Friday night was pretty effing shit tastic, Saturday brought a new, absolute new low for my time at these clubs. I made a dollar under tip out and had to supply my own money for it.
ON A SATURDAY NIGHT. Yup, I made $31 dollars the whole night. I guess if I'm to look at the bright side I have made less taking off my clothes... as my job. I've gotten naked for free but I'm not talking about my ex boyfriends right now. Ugh, them.
So, I was bummin big time Saturday night because tips just weren't coming, people just weren't sitting at my stage (besides a couple gems I'll get into later...) and I had no hustle in me. Not that there were really many people to hustle. I'm not sure any girl made over $200 that night which is unusual, especially for a Saturday.
Let's take a side step and talk about one of the joyful custies I DID get the pleasure of seeing on that day...
He walks in and I feel I know him from either this club or my previous club. I think I'm going to start calling my previous club out by name now... I don't work there at all anymore (safari). He sat at my stage and I got the creep vibe from him instantly which went along with my gut feeling when he walked in the door.
He puts a dollar on stage during my second song and never puts another dollar down. Yeah, big spenda! When he puts that dollar down he starts trying to make contact with me. Like if I'm on the rack he puts his arm out so it brushes my leg.
THERE IS ALMOST NOTHING I HATE MORE THAN THIS.
Aside from the obvious asshole comments at my rack and pelting me with quarters, I get incredibly grossed out when guys try to be all cool (or even not cool) about touching me while I am on stage. Let's be real, I just about hate it when guys touch me in the back too (except for a select few who are awesome people and don't give me the willies). It's like they are trying to turn ME on. Yeah right buddy. Guy's I've been super attracted to have had a hard time getting me off... you have no chance.
So he sees my nipples and says they are perfect lalala which makes me want to run for the hills. Something about the way he says it and looks at me. Then he asks if they lost some feeling after getting pierced, I said it was the same. He asked if I liked it when they were licked, I said it really doesn't matter to me either way. I don't really enjoy it all that much (and I was thinking in my head that I could think of at least 2 better places* for a lover's tongue to be... but that's not the kinda conversation I wanted to keep going with this guy) and then he said "maybe you just haven't had someone do it right."
To keep from having to talk to this guy too long I didn't say what I was really thinking but I can tell you lovely readers because I like you...
Ew sir. You could NOT lick my nipples right. I would have to attracted to you for that to even slightly work. And like I said before, it doesn't matter if I'm attracted to the person or not, I just don't get any real pleasure of having my nipples licked. I've had some women go at them too. I'm just not interested. The only thing that has even lightly peaked my interest concerning my nipples is this girl I gave a free birthday dance to semi recently. She touched them in a way that actually worked for a second. Too bad her boyfriend was there, I didn't want to go home with BOTH of them. Just her.
Tangent, but still, your cockiness is really off-putting and so is your dirty, tangled semi long hair. My friend might believe that real men have long hair but I really don't. And you're MAYBE the same height as me, and MAYBE weight as much as I do. You couldn't make me cum if you had the help of 3 vibrators...
I stayed nice and tried to mentally place what had happened that had made me dislike him so much. I left the stage after my set was over (with $1 for the two songs he was there...) and went into the dressing room. I came out later and sat off to the side of the main stage, kind of by the DJ booth. Creep-magee came up and asked if I wanted company. I really wanted to say no but that's really not something to do at a strip club when you haven't FOR SURE figured out the guy doesn't have money...
so I said sure really unconvincingly and he sat down anyway. I guess my nipples have special attraction powers for this man, or he really, really doesn't have an ear for tone.
He sits down, asks me what's wrong and why I'm not having fun, I say point blank because I haven't made any money he puts his arm around me pulling me to lean against him, I do this while my body is faced away from him, totally uncomfortable (as I'm writing this I feel uncomfortable again) and that's when it hits me... I remember this dude all too well...
It was one night at Safari, I was dancin, doin my thing, he comes to my stage, puts some money down, looks interested and then asks if I want to go in the back room. I say sure, we go back there and talk for a song... NEVER AGAIN. Baby stripper move! We talk and he wants me to take my boobs out of my bra and I do for some stupid reason, should have gotten the money, and he puts his arm around me like he's in 5th grade... he may as well have yawned to get there. And this makes me SUUUPER uncomfortable because he is trying his best to touch my nipples with his reached over arm. Or maybe just that one nipple, reaching across my body might have been TOO obvious. I'm getting creeped out just thinking about it right now. Seriously slightly sick.
So the song ends, I have to go on stage again, he doesn't pay me, I leave (baby stripper move #2, not letting him know he owes me money and walking away) feeling really stupid and used.
That creepy scene came back to me as this guy was trying to get me to lean against him like we were something and after giving him some really lame yes and no answers to his questions of if I liked my job and what else would I do lalalala blah blah blah do something good with your life bullshit, I told him I had to go and pulled myself out of his arms and went into the dressing room.
I want to hit him. If I ever see him again I might get him to take me to the dance room, talk to him and then actually get some money but never give him a dance or take out my golden nipples.
Best part about this douche was that he had a couple hundreds in his wallet... bartender/one-day-a-week dancer/moneyfinder saw them and made sure to let one of the girls know. That girl told me a little later and I told her not to waste her time on that dude because he wasn't going to give that money up. He wanted shit for free because he was just so damn charming. BARF.
Sure enough I talked to a different dancer later and she was frustrated because of this douche bag that had been at her stage and had only given her one dollar after sitting there for two songs. She had said something nicely about it to which he had said "well you haven't done anything for me" as his excuse for the one dollar.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME ASSHOLE! I am prancing around in my underwear. I am prancing around in my underwear in heels that you would break your neck in. I am prancing around in underwear in heals seductively. I am also talking to your dumb ass. I am pretending that anything you have to say is interesting. All of this equals at LEAST a dollar per song for three songs... even if I don't take one piece of that clothing off.
Now, after that, I also do tricks, or at least this girl does. Sometimes I do, but it depends on the club and the pole. I do trick AND I take off the already skimpy clothing I have on. You'd be fucking lucky to see me in a bathing suit in the real world. You'd be even luckier to see me in underwear in the real world. You would NEVER and I mean NEVER get to see my nipples or anything else in the real world. So pay up!!!
She then tells him to fuck off and get off her rack. He responds by opening his wallet and showing her the three hundred dollar bills he has in there. She doesn't even care and without hesitation says "I don't see them on my rack!"
He stops off angry and so ends the tale of The 5th Grade Nipple Toucher.
I hope he chokes while trying to give himself fellacio, lying on his back with his legs over his head. Yeah.
It is my sneaking suspicion that those bills in his wallet were the only money the guy had. Like to his name ever. He wasn't going to spend that no matter what. He just wanted people to think he was going to so he would have a better chance.
Gross.
Skin still crawling.
So yeah, that night after dealing with him I still didn't make quite enough to tip out and went home really incredibly bummed. Oh wait, there's more.
I had another, "do you do anything else" conversation with another douche later that evening and he then went on to ask if I wanted to smoke weed with him and his friend after work... HELL NO. He was really surprised when I said no. Oh I'm sorry middle aged man, my bed sounds more inviting than smoking week with two oafs who shoot and kill all of their meat and do demolition work. I'm sorry I'm smart and know how to be safe. Go fuck your beefy, asshole friend. In the ass. No shoes, totes gay.
Then he asked what I was going that night AGAIN, this time wondering if I did extra curricular work. Like if I did the whole package deal outside of work.
SERIOUSLY DUDE. I said no to smoking weed with you and you still think there's a chance I'll fuck you, even for money?
You haven't even tipped me a dollar since you got here. Nor has your beef head friend. What are you going to do, offer me a hundy for some sex? You are delusional? You see this face? Yeah, not gonna happen. You see this ass, yeah, dream fucking on. You see this young body? Yup... never gonna get it, not even for money. You'd seriously have to offer me upwards of 5 grand to even begin to consider it. 5 grand could probably help me erase the pain in my mind after that experience. MMMM let's start the bidding at 7 grand now that I think about it...
Stop being a skeeze and act your age. Maybe go to a bar, by a drink for a lady or two and get those drunk idiots to have sex with you.
A woman that looks like me? Not going to happen unless she's lacking severely in the brains department.
(and just to be clear, this guy was decent looking I guess, but a complete skeeze, thumbhead asshole.)
So that was my last real interaction that night and I was ready to scream blue bloody murder at the top of my lungs for hours.
Instead I cried in my car on the way home and stayed up real late for who knows what reason, probably put pictures on tumblr and other such meaningful tasks and then slept.
so now you know.
-D
sidenote: My wrist smells amazing. I like little surprises like that.
*clit, neck, lower back but not quite my ass..., in my mouth as long as it's not being super invasive, stomach on their way down to the party zone... inner thighs... SEE! So many better places.
I realized while sitting with a friend at work today that rent is due here in oh, 4 days. Luckily I have an extra couple of days but I'm still not happy about this. I have three shifts this week at my current clubs, I left a couple days open for the new club that I like a lot, but unfortunately nothing matched with my availability. :/ Seriously bummin.
So I have two shifts left this week, hopefully I can score a third and in that time I basically need to come up with all of my rent. Not going to lie, if things keep going as they have been the past 3 weeks then I'm up shit creek without a paddle really. Yup, hands paddling shit action. It might be happening. Don't worry, I always carry antibacterial... but I also bite my nails.
Grossed out yet? Me too.
I'll move on. So while Friday night was pretty effing shit tastic, Saturday brought a new, absolute new low for my time at these clubs. I made a dollar under tip out and had to supply my own money for it.
ON A SATURDAY NIGHT. Yup, I made $31 dollars the whole night. I guess if I'm to look at the bright side I have made less taking off my clothes... as my job. I've gotten naked for free but I'm not talking about my ex boyfriends right now. Ugh, them.
So, I was bummin big time Saturday night because tips just weren't coming, people just weren't sitting at my stage (besides a couple gems I'll get into later...) and I had no hustle in me. Not that there were really many people to hustle. I'm not sure any girl made over $200 that night which is unusual, especially for a Saturday.
Let's take a side step and talk about one of the joyful custies I DID get the pleasure of seeing on that day...
He walks in and I feel I know him from either this club or my previous club. I think I'm going to start calling my previous club out by name now... I don't work there at all anymore (safari). He sat at my stage and I got the creep vibe from him instantly which went along with my gut feeling when he walked in the door.
He puts a dollar on stage during my second song and never puts another dollar down. Yeah, big spenda! When he puts that dollar down he starts trying to make contact with me. Like if I'm on the rack he puts his arm out so it brushes my leg.
THERE IS ALMOST NOTHING I HATE MORE THAN THIS.
Aside from the obvious asshole comments at my rack and pelting me with quarters, I get incredibly grossed out when guys try to be all cool (or even not cool) about touching me while I am on stage. Let's be real, I just about hate it when guys touch me in the back too (except for a select few who are awesome people and don't give me the willies). It's like they are trying to turn ME on. Yeah right buddy. Guy's I've been super attracted to have had a hard time getting me off... you have no chance.
So he sees my nipples and says they are perfect lalala which makes me want to run for the hills. Something about the way he says it and looks at me. Then he asks if they lost some feeling after getting pierced, I said it was the same. He asked if I liked it when they were licked, I said it really doesn't matter to me either way. I don't really enjoy it all that much (and I was thinking in my head that I could think of at least 2 better places* for a lover's tongue to be... but that's not the kinda conversation I wanted to keep going with this guy) and then he said "maybe you just haven't had someone do it right."
To keep from having to talk to this guy too long I didn't say what I was really thinking but I can tell you lovely readers because I like you...
Ew sir. You could NOT lick my nipples right. I would have to attracted to you for that to even slightly work. And like I said before, it doesn't matter if I'm attracted to the person or not, I just don't get any real pleasure of having my nipples licked. I've had some women go at them too. I'm just not interested. The only thing that has even lightly peaked my interest concerning my nipples is this girl I gave a free birthday dance to semi recently. She touched them in a way that actually worked for a second. Too bad her boyfriend was there, I didn't want to go home with BOTH of them. Just her.
Tangent, but still, your cockiness is really off-putting and so is your dirty, tangled semi long hair. My friend might believe that real men have long hair but I really don't. And you're MAYBE the same height as me, and MAYBE weight as much as I do. You couldn't make me cum if you had the help of 3 vibrators...
I stayed nice and tried to mentally place what had happened that had made me dislike him so much. I left the stage after my set was over (with $1 for the two songs he was there...) and went into the dressing room. I came out later and sat off to the side of the main stage, kind of by the DJ booth. Creep-magee came up and asked if I wanted company. I really wanted to say no but that's really not something to do at a strip club when you haven't FOR SURE figured out the guy doesn't have money...
so I said sure really unconvincingly and he sat down anyway. I guess my nipples have special attraction powers for this man, or he really, really doesn't have an ear for tone.
He sits down, asks me what's wrong and why I'm not having fun, I say point blank because I haven't made any money he puts his arm around me pulling me to lean against him, I do this while my body is faced away from him, totally uncomfortable (as I'm writing this I feel uncomfortable again) and that's when it hits me... I remember this dude all too well...
It was one night at Safari, I was dancin, doin my thing, he comes to my stage, puts some money down, looks interested and then asks if I want to go in the back room. I say sure, we go back there and talk for a song... NEVER AGAIN. Baby stripper move! We talk and he wants me to take my boobs out of my bra and I do for some stupid reason, should have gotten the money, and he puts his arm around me like he's in 5th grade... he may as well have yawned to get there. And this makes me SUUUPER uncomfortable because he is trying his best to touch my nipples with his reached over arm. Or maybe just that one nipple, reaching across my body might have been TOO obvious. I'm getting creeped out just thinking about it right now. Seriously slightly sick.
So the song ends, I have to go on stage again, he doesn't pay me, I leave (baby stripper move #2, not letting him know he owes me money and walking away) feeling really stupid and used.
That creepy scene came back to me as this guy was trying to get me to lean against him like we were something and after giving him some really lame yes and no answers to his questions of if I liked my job and what else would I do lalalala blah blah blah do something good with your life bullshit, I told him I had to go and pulled myself out of his arms and went into the dressing room.
I want to hit him. If I ever see him again I might get him to take me to the dance room, talk to him and then actually get some money but never give him a dance or take out my golden nipples.
Best part about this douche was that he had a couple hundreds in his wallet... bartender/one-day-a-week dancer/moneyfinder saw them and made sure to let one of the girls know. That girl told me a little later and I told her not to waste her time on that dude because he wasn't going to give that money up. He wanted shit for free because he was just so damn charming. BARF.
Sure enough I talked to a different dancer later and she was frustrated because of this douche bag that had been at her stage and had only given her one dollar after sitting there for two songs. She had said something nicely about it to which he had said "well you haven't done anything for me" as his excuse for the one dollar.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME ASSHOLE! I am prancing around in my underwear. I am prancing around in my underwear in heels that you would break your neck in. I am prancing around in underwear in heals seductively. I am also talking to your dumb ass. I am pretending that anything you have to say is interesting. All of this equals at LEAST a dollar per song for three songs... even if I don't take one piece of that clothing off.
Now, after that, I also do tricks, or at least this girl does. Sometimes I do, but it depends on the club and the pole. I do trick AND I take off the already skimpy clothing I have on. You'd be fucking lucky to see me in a bathing suit in the real world. You'd be even luckier to see me in underwear in the real world. You would NEVER and I mean NEVER get to see my nipples or anything else in the real world. So pay up!!!
She then tells him to fuck off and get off her rack. He responds by opening his wallet and showing her the three hundred dollar bills he has in there. She doesn't even care and without hesitation says "I don't see them on my rack!"
He stops off angry and so ends the tale of The 5th Grade Nipple Toucher.
I hope he chokes while trying to give himself fellacio, lying on his back with his legs over his head. Yeah.
It is my sneaking suspicion that those bills in his wallet were the only money the guy had. Like to his name ever. He wasn't going to spend that no matter what. He just wanted people to think he was going to so he would have a better chance.
Gross.
Skin still crawling.
So yeah, that night after dealing with him I still didn't make quite enough to tip out and went home really incredibly bummed. Oh wait, there's more.
I had another, "do you do anything else" conversation with another douche later that evening and he then went on to ask if I wanted to smoke weed with him and his friend after work... HELL NO. He was really surprised when I said no. Oh I'm sorry middle aged man, my bed sounds more inviting than smoking week with two oafs who shoot and kill all of their meat and do demolition work. I'm sorry I'm smart and know how to be safe. Go fuck your beefy, asshole friend. In the ass. No shoes, totes gay.
Then he asked what I was going that night AGAIN, this time wondering if I did extra curricular work. Like if I did the whole package deal outside of work.
SERIOUSLY DUDE. I said no to smoking weed with you and you still think there's a chance I'll fuck you, even for money?
You haven't even tipped me a dollar since you got here. Nor has your beef head friend. What are you going to do, offer me a hundy for some sex? You are delusional? You see this face? Yeah, not gonna happen. You see this ass, yeah, dream fucking on. You see this young body? Yup... never gonna get it, not even for money. You'd seriously have to offer me upwards of 5 grand to even begin to consider it. 5 grand could probably help me erase the pain in my mind after that experience. MMMM let's start the bidding at 7 grand now that I think about it...
Stop being a skeeze and act your age. Maybe go to a bar, by a drink for a lady or two and get those drunk idiots to have sex with you.
A woman that looks like me? Not going to happen unless she's lacking severely in the brains department.
(and just to be clear, this guy was decent looking I guess, but a complete skeeze, thumbhead asshole.)
So that was my last real interaction that night and I was ready to scream blue bloody murder at the top of my lungs for hours.
Instead I cried in my car on the way home and stayed up real late for who knows what reason, probably put pictures on tumblr and other such meaningful tasks and then slept.
so now you know.
-D
sidenote: My wrist smells amazing. I like little surprises like that.
*clit, neck, lower back but not quite my ass..., in my mouth as long as it's not being super invasive, stomach on their way down to the party zone... inner thighs... SEE! So many better places.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Worst Night
So, money wise I've had some pretty bad nights. While this one was super bad it wasn't the lowest of the low. BUT to make up for that aspect of supreme suckage there were a couple assholes tonight that just really, really brought the night down real well.
There was the normal, bunch of people there but few sitting at the rack or paying.
There were the ones trying to buy drinks but not lap dances...
There was the girl with huge fake looking boobs on the other stage while I'm on the back one so everyone just goes to her...
There was the girl up before me in the school girl outfit, pigtails curled and all...
There was that.
THEN, it's getting close to the last stage of the night and the first supreme-o douche comes up to me and touches my tattoo (from behind so he startles me) and says, "hey nice piece" or something stupid like that, I say thanks and "do you want a dance" because I'm no longer in the mood to bullshit with anyone by this point. Mama needs some monies. He says no he doesn't do dances, I ask why not considering he's in a strip club. (generally when people are nice and not douchy I don't challenge them on their not getting dances but I could tell that this dude was someone that felt like he didn't NEED to pay for pussy or something stupid like that) He says his friend brought him there, and i ask if his friend might want a dance, he says probably not. I say, okay whatever and go back to talking to two girls that had been there with one of them's boyfriend the whole night. Awesome chicks, and her boyfriend was rad too, whatever not the point.
(I would totally hit on the boyfriend if he wasn't with said girl... in fact did once before I knew he had a girl. dreams crushed, see, it happens to us too)
So then supreme-o was like, okay well I was just trying to say nice work but I'm not getting dances, I'm not a trick or anything... and that's where I got real pissed. I look at him and say, excuse me? A trick? He's like yeah, you know, I'm not stupid or nothin. I'm just trying to tell you that you have nice work but if you're gonna be a bitch about it.... Sometimes I let shit like that slide but I was not in the mood and so I'm like ALRIGHT FINE! and walk over to my awesome bouncer and say, Hey, We have a reaaaal asshole in here right now. Guy comes up to my bouncer too and says, "yeah, I'm an asshole... and I'm gonna drink my beer and then leave!" To which I reply, "awe shucks, I might cry." and walk away. He either left before his beer was finish or kept talking shit because a minute or two later the bouncer came by and said he was gone.
I wish that was the only asshole of the night...
NOPE!
the second one was sitting at my stage for the last song of the night and is yelling "WOOOOOO" every once in a while and then pretends to lick my nipple (and gets really close to me) when I am laying on the rack in front of him... I tell him no, he says he's just playin he wouldn't actually do that... but I'd like it, wouldn't I. So the I dance around other people at the rack (the only rack of the night that had more than 2 people I swear) and he leaves and then comes back at the end of my last song after some other people had just come up and I was talking to them and the song ends and I'm picking up my money, the one dollar he put down for the second song and he says
"that wasn't worth it, I put a dollar down and didn't see nothin."
I look at him, try to think of the best thing to say along the lines of, POS you're lucky I'm even looking at you drunk mother fucker but can't really think of anything and as I'm getting more dollars from other people he says, "whatever, you had a nice butt but nothin else."
I wish I was better with words or faster on my feet when I get overcome with rage.
This twerp is telling ME that I'm not that great to look at. Basically insulting my boobs I guess... I dunno. And that I wasn't worth the dollar he put down.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!
Now, I love to think I'm pretty modest MOST of the time but that guy pissed me off and so as I was stewing in my anger I looked at him and said, Hey, you're fuckin lucky the night's over and you're broke. I'd get fired for doing what I want to do to you."
He looks at me PISSED at this point and says HEY! I got business in the front and party in the back!
When he started that little gem I thought he was going to say he owned a business but no, it was better than that.
So I asked him what exactly that did for me...
He went raving on about how much of a bitch I was and how I wasn't good looking anyway and lallalala as a different guy comes up to get a dance. As I'm giving the other guy a dance (and trying to keep his hands away from my crotch and boobs) I could hear supreme-o #2 through that flimsy curtain and I wanted so badly to tell the guy that was getting a dance to forget it and run out there with my heal and talk some more shit, probably threaten him, but I tried to be responsible and make, oh... maybe $50 for the night.
Now that some of the adrenaline is out of my system I really just want to cry. There you have it folks, some of the realities of being a fucking stripper.
Best part, I could get fired for that. Yup, ME. I could get fired because I said something to that asshole.
And let's just go back to the first one of the night saying he wasn't a trick. Ummm, what? I'm not going to fuck you back there you piece of shit. I'm not a prostitute.
If I had made more than minimum wage for taking of my clothes tonight and pretending guys were interesting maybe I wouldn't have gotten so mad. But minimum wage isn't fair for anyone, much less people who get to hear others opinions about sensitive subjects.
My pasta's ready though, so I have to go.
-D
OH P.S. As I was driving away I saw shit head number 2 in the taco bell parking lot starting some shit AND I saw him get hit in the face twice. Unfortunately he didn't get hit enough, he was still standing by the time the other guy left. Not because the puncher was bad, he threw two good hits, but because the girls in the car were telling the puncher to leave it be and get out of there.
okay the end
There was the normal, bunch of people there but few sitting at the rack or paying.
There were the ones trying to buy drinks but not lap dances...
There was the girl with huge fake looking boobs on the other stage while I'm on the back one so everyone just goes to her...
There was the girl up before me in the school girl outfit, pigtails curled and all...
There was that.
THEN, it's getting close to the last stage of the night and the first supreme-o douche comes up to me and touches my tattoo (from behind so he startles me) and says, "hey nice piece" or something stupid like that, I say thanks and "do you want a dance" because I'm no longer in the mood to bullshit with anyone by this point. Mama needs some monies. He says no he doesn't do dances, I ask why not considering he's in a strip club. (generally when people are nice and not douchy I don't challenge them on their not getting dances but I could tell that this dude was someone that felt like he didn't NEED to pay for pussy or something stupid like that) He says his friend brought him there, and i ask if his friend might want a dance, he says probably not. I say, okay whatever and go back to talking to two girls that had been there with one of them's boyfriend the whole night. Awesome chicks, and her boyfriend was rad too, whatever not the point.
(I would totally hit on the boyfriend if he wasn't with said girl... in fact did once before I knew he had a girl. dreams crushed, see, it happens to us too)
So then supreme-o was like, okay well I was just trying to say nice work but I'm not getting dances, I'm not a trick or anything... and that's where I got real pissed. I look at him and say, excuse me? A trick? He's like yeah, you know, I'm not stupid or nothin. I'm just trying to tell you that you have nice work but if you're gonna be a bitch about it.... Sometimes I let shit like that slide but I was not in the mood and so I'm like ALRIGHT FINE! and walk over to my awesome bouncer and say, Hey, We have a reaaaal asshole in here right now. Guy comes up to my bouncer too and says, "yeah, I'm an asshole... and I'm gonna drink my beer and then leave!" To which I reply, "awe shucks, I might cry." and walk away. He either left before his beer was finish or kept talking shit because a minute or two later the bouncer came by and said he was gone.
I wish that was the only asshole of the night...
NOPE!
the second one was sitting at my stage for the last song of the night and is yelling "WOOOOOO" every once in a while and then pretends to lick my nipple (and gets really close to me) when I am laying on the rack in front of him... I tell him no, he says he's just playin he wouldn't actually do that... but I'd like it, wouldn't I. So the I dance around other people at the rack (the only rack of the night that had more than 2 people I swear) and he leaves and then comes back at the end of my last song after some other people had just come up and I was talking to them and the song ends and I'm picking up my money, the one dollar he put down for the second song and he says
"that wasn't worth it, I put a dollar down and didn't see nothin."
I look at him, try to think of the best thing to say along the lines of, POS you're lucky I'm even looking at you drunk mother fucker but can't really think of anything and as I'm getting more dollars from other people he says, "whatever, you had a nice butt but nothin else."
I wish I was better with words or faster on my feet when I get overcome with rage.
This twerp is telling ME that I'm not that great to look at. Basically insulting my boobs I guess... I dunno. And that I wasn't worth the dollar he put down.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!
Now, I love to think I'm pretty modest MOST of the time but that guy pissed me off and so as I was stewing in my anger I looked at him and said, Hey, you're fuckin lucky the night's over and you're broke. I'd get fired for doing what I want to do to you."
He looks at me PISSED at this point and says HEY! I got business in the front and party in the back!
When he started that little gem I thought he was going to say he owned a business but no, it was better than that.
So I asked him what exactly that did for me...
He went raving on about how much of a bitch I was and how I wasn't good looking anyway and lallalala as a different guy comes up to get a dance. As I'm giving the other guy a dance (and trying to keep his hands away from my crotch and boobs) I could hear supreme-o #2 through that flimsy curtain and I wanted so badly to tell the guy that was getting a dance to forget it and run out there with my heal and talk some more shit, probably threaten him, but I tried to be responsible and make, oh... maybe $50 for the night.
Now that some of the adrenaline is out of my system I really just want to cry. There you have it folks, some of the realities of being a fucking stripper.
Best part, I could get fired for that. Yup, ME. I could get fired because I said something to that asshole.
And let's just go back to the first one of the night saying he wasn't a trick. Ummm, what? I'm not going to fuck you back there you piece of shit. I'm not a prostitute.
If I had made more than minimum wage for taking of my clothes tonight and pretending guys were interesting maybe I wouldn't have gotten so mad. But minimum wage isn't fair for anyone, much less people who get to hear others opinions about sensitive subjects.
My pasta's ready though, so I have to go.
-D
OH P.S. As I was driving away I saw shit head number 2 in the taco bell parking lot starting some shit AND I saw him get hit in the face twice. Unfortunately he didn't get hit enough, he was still standing by the time the other guy left. Not because the puncher was bad, he threw two good hits, but because the girls in the car were telling the puncher to leave it be and get out of there.
okay the end
Monday, September 19, 2011
Remembering the Good
found this around the internets
Today was my day off this week. I found myself in a strip club (well, two) anyway. :) The first one was the meet up spot with a friend, it was my old club and I'm relieved to see that nothing is going any better there after I left.
I make more money at the current club, more consistently than I did at the first club (well, the first club that I have stayed at more than a month...) even though I'm not totally stoked on my current clubs.
All is well though because tomorrow I have my first day at yet a new club! I hear great things about this one... it is pretty well known. One of the top ones here in dear ol' Portland. I'm super stoked.
Tonight I went to a different well known club just to check it out and goodness gracious am I glad I did! The girls all look like they are having fun the whole time there, the stage is awesome. There is only one stage...
This awesome stage goes like this, it's in a corner, it's a triangle basically. the rack is the bottom of the triangle and on it are two poles! That's right, poles ON the rack! There are bars in the ceiling, some have called them monkey bars in the past) and there is the regular pole. The side walls are completely mirrored from top to bottom. The only thing that doesn't make my heart go pitter patter is the lack of high ceilings. That's absolutely it.
I'm not putting the name of the club in here because I don't feel like it but one of my descriptors should give it away if you've been to a few in this town.
So, I walk in, it's dark, people are playing poker. We order sodas (yes I know, party animals) and sit on some bar stools. Then we move to some couches that open up and we watch the stage. After a little bit what becomes my favorite dancer EVER comes on stage. She's tattooed all over (there are empty spots) with gorgeous work. Gorgeous. Her face is so pretty, she had dimple piercings that are now healed so she has permanent dimples, she has a monroe on both sides of her top lip... she's so cute.
Then she starts to dance and I'm done for. Immediate grace radiates off this lovely lady. I ask friend if he wants to go up to the rack to which he says sure AND gives me a stack of ones.
SCORE!
We go to the rack and she's super friendly and smiley and seductive and I'm a goner.
At one point she uses her leg to pull my face into her panties... yup, that happens. She giggles, says she doesn't know what came over her, she's awesome.
I talk to her after the first set I watch, ask her what other kind of dance she has done, figuring ballet, I'm one hundred percent correct. She realizes with that one question and comment on her dancing that I must be a dancer too. She asks for my dancer name so she can keep track. Don't know if she will but throughout the night she remembers it. She's goooood.
We watch a few more girls, we stay until she gets on stage again and watch another set.
Then we go back to the couches and I talk to a dancer that I worked with recently but got demoted to day shift for a bullshit reason. Basically this girl has the perfect greek goddess body, and management at current club figured she was too fat for night shift. This girl is not fat what so ever, she has curve yes, but it's natural and not due to overeating. It's effin gorgeous.
Anywho, she's there hanging out so we talk for a tad and then my favorite comes on stage again and she had mentioned it was her last shift and I was sad. Here I had taken waaaay too long to visit this club and now, when I find my favorite dancer, she leaves the industry.
So I do my best to enjoy it. My friend gets a dance from a girl out of curiosity and I sit at the rack by myself for my favorite. I tip her well (friend gave me a stack of ones so I could!) and then I decide I should probably get a dance from here...
you know, for research...
yeah,
research.
To learn my craft better... or something like that. :)
So I sit down on the couch debating spending money and a customer (female) comes up to me. She has been tipping the ladies and I think she got a dance earlier (the place is small and I notice people) and asks if she can tell me something.
I say of course and we chat and then she says, "you are absolutely gorgeous."
Awesome...
I'm just going to put this out there... today was mediocre effort in make up and getting ready routine. I have jeans on that I haven't washed in a while, boy short underwear that might or might not make lines under my pants on the upper thighs, a black tank and a hoodie on. Also, I'm wearing Target moccasins. My hair was down but not touched with anything but like 2 minutes of a hair dryer (I had just taken a shower a couple hours earlier) and my eye make up may have taken 7 minutes. I wasn't figuring I was going to be checked out a lot. Though I should know by now, no matter what I do, I'm going to be looked at (maybe not checked out all the time) because of this head of hair I have.
This many years later and I still get surprised when people pick me out in a crowd.
Actually, I also get surprised when people don't...
Story for another time though.
So female is jockin my metaphorical nuts and I'm all flattered and wished I wasn't into incredibly femme lesbians otherwise I'd let this one take me out.
Anywho, I then bought a dance from my fav and it was gooood. Not just for research though I did learn some things. I'm not sharing but I expect my dances will be getting better and better! As long as I have takers that is.
Oh, the kicker... my favorite made me fall in love with her at one point because as much as she smiles and is friendly, she showed she's not a pushover.
There was a dude on the rack when I was there without my friend and while I put down a good amount of ones he put down one. She kept a smile on her face and dance on the pole next to him on the rack but did not give him any real special attention and after the first song she looked at me and said (loud enough for him to hear) "Thank you, D, I really appreciate good tippers."
Second song I put down another handful (as many fingers as I have on one hand) of ones and dude doesn't put down any. Clearly he's never been in a strip club. Or he's dumb... anything.
After I leave the stage after her second song he says something to her, possibly about not taking off her bottoms (she moved them when she was giving me attention but kept the goodies from his sight) and so she smiled and said something and THEN she let him have it. She told him he only put down one dollar for two songs and if he new basic math he'd realize that one dollar for 8 minutes was nothing. Or something similar. Basically it was well said, and then she finished with, "please tip the next girl better than you tipped me" and left the stage.
Swoon.
Seriously.
Sigh.
So that was my night. Stoked for tomorrow's shift. I hope for good things, and money goddesses to rain those good dollas down on me!
I must go hand wash my panties now, have to be clean and ready for my first day! ;)
or maybe I already cleaned them and I just wanted you to think about panties.
-D
Monday, September 5, 2011
Picture I Can't Post In My Real LIfe Social Circles
yes please
great street art
of course not babe
need this for my lazy days at work
yes please
not as hard as licking your own nipple...
Don't Be Rude Even If You're Paying
The other night, it was a Saturday on Labor Day weekend... and I was sitting at my usual spot at one of my clubs and this guy comes up. I don't know what started the joking or talk or whatever but before he came up I had been in a decent mood despite the fact that the night was not lucrative.
So, man with floppy hair, glasses, hawaiian shirt with man tits and belly (obviously manageable, not a condition or proportional at all) and I are talking, I tell him my name and he says it's a mouthful. Can I just take a second and tell you it's a two syllable name... yeah. It's quite easy. No it's not Star, but shit dude, we can't all be Tragic. Too bad he didn't meet me when my name was Catastrophe... pretty sure that's 4 syllables. Stupid ass.
So, even after that I'm being nice and smiling and he sees I have red hair and asks if the curtains match the drapes...
Dude, the questions is does the CARPET match the drapes... CARPET is what is on a floor. Curtains and drapes are the same thing.
I tell him no, because there is no carpet, I shave like most in the industry, not because most in the industry do but because I like the look at the feel better.
He tells me he likes/prefers a really wild bush. This man is serious. He asks if he can confess, I don my robes.
No, no robes, moving on. I say of course and he says he really likes the idea of the bushes mashing and interweaving together. That's what really gets him going.
Great, so now my mental image of your junk is basically a mushroom hiding in a huge patch of moss. Sir, did you have to? Please put a $20 down if you're going to make me think about that.
I saw that each has their own interest (still in a flirty and nice and smiley way) and then he talks about how his martini is too dirty. He asked for it dirty but he says she put a lot of olive juice in it. I look at him (and mind you I really don't drink but I have specifically asked what it means when a martini is extra dirty) and say that ordering the drink dirty or extra dirty means more olive juice.
He then agrees that the awful drink is his mistake and says he wanted it a different way and then remembers that to get it that way you have to order it wet, not dirty.
Yeah asshole, good job at trying to make a drink sexual and seem sophisticated.
Asshat.
Somehow, after that, we get onto the topic of evolution and how we came from fish...
oh yes,
we talked about vegetarianism.
I said I was vegetarian for some reason and he asked if it was to save the cute little animals, I said it was for health, society and animals (because those are really my reasons) and he went on this mini tirade about women who go vegetarian because of the cute little animals and how we can eat snakes too and lalala this man likes to hear himself talk. I say something about how fish aren't cute (because unless they are brightly colored I don't think they are cute... catfish? not cute) and he says they are and that we come from fish. He specifies the lung fish.
I say for shits and giggles that I thought we came from monkeys so then he says no, before that. So I ask if the monkeys and Neanderthals came from this lung fish and he then goes off about how Neanderthals are a branch of homo erectus/homo sapien (and no i don't mean a gay erection) line and that we do not come from them and I was trying to say it was a part of our evolution and he was talking over me (which is a HUGE pet peeve of mine) and saying "honey honey honey honey honey I'm a microbiologist, neanderthals are a different branch lalala" while I'm saying "I don't like you" and "don't fucking call me honey" in a more moderate tone.
He thinks it's still all fun and games and I'm fucking pissed.
1) Don't talk over me
2) Don't interrupt me unless it's friendly banter and I know you
3) Don't show off your perceived male dominance with either of the above options
4) Don't think you're smarter than me... you look like shit and clearly don't have a girlfriend and are complaining about a drink you ordered. You're not smarter than me.
I'm sure there are more don'ts but I'll just move on.
I look at my friend and give him the "this guy is a dipshit look" while ignoring the dipshit as he's trying to spout more information my way.
He then says I'm the smartest person he's met in a strip club. I thought he was talking about my friend who is smart as well. He says no, he's talking about me, even though he had just finished "honey"ing me out of my fucking mind and sneaking in that he was a microbiologist one more time.
I was served garlic toast during this interaction and ate it as he talked trying to ignore him. After I was done he decided to tell me I was really going to need some mints as I'm opening my purse to get some mints out.
By this time I hate the ugly bastard and so I say, "this coming from a man drinking a dirty martini." He says that he knows his breath is bad but he doesn't have to worry about it and I do have to worry about mine.
While the basis of this is true it is not something that I suggest telling ANY woman. I don't care if we are strippers or prostitutes... don't tell us how to do our job. If you don't like what we have, dirty, stinky, garlic breath and all, go away. We have to deal with your stinky, pudgy, creepy, loser ass and we don't get paid NEARLY enough to do so and we still keep a smile on our face. Would you say that to a girl you are trying to sleep with? No? Don't say it to me.
I get it, you think because you have the money you get to tell us what to do...
NOPE!
This is how it goes... we put on our show, the one we decide on, and you pay if you want to watch and if you don't like it you look the other way, keep your mouth shut, drink your disgusting drink and leave us alone.
My name was called why he was justifying why he got to have smelly breath and so I walked off.
For some insane reason (I guess he was a bit thick) he followed me to my stage and watched my stage set.
I ignored him as much as I possibly could.
I probably could have gotten some dances out of him but by this point I wanted to shove my heal through one eardrum and out the other and so it wouldn't have worked out well. I can't hide hate from my eyes as well as most strippers.
He tried to talk to me again after the stage set and I just wasn't having it so he finally went away and left me be. Smartest thing he did all day I think!
So there you have it, another tale of idiocy...
-D
So, man with floppy hair, glasses, hawaiian shirt with man tits and belly (obviously manageable, not a condition or proportional at all) and I are talking, I tell him my name and he says it's a mouthful. Can I just take a second and tell you it's a two syllable name... yeah. It's quite easy. No it's not Star, but shit dude, we can't all be Tragic. Too bad he didn't meet me when my name was Catastrophe... pretty sure that's 4 syllables. Stupid ass.
So, even after that I'm being nice and smiling and he sees I have red hair and asks if the curtains match the drapes...
Dude, the questions is does the CARPET match the drapes... CARPET is what is on a floor. Curtains and drapes are the same thing.
I tell him no, because there is no carpet, I shave like most in the industry, not because most in the industry do but because I like the look at the feel better.
He tells me he likes/prefers a really wild bush. This man is serious. He asks if he can confess, I don my robes.
No, no robes, moving on. I say of course and he says he really likes the idea of the bushes mashing and interweaving together. That's what really gets him going.
Great, so now my mental image of your junk is basically a mushroom hiding in a huge patch of moss. Sir, did you have to? Please put a $20 down if you're going to make me think about that.
I saw that each has their own interest (still in a flirty and nice and smiley way) and then he talks about how his martini is too dirty. He asked for it dirty but he says she put a lot of olive juice in it. I look at him (and mind you I really don't drink but I have specifically asked what it means when a martini is extra dirty) and say that ordering the drink dirty or extra dirty means more olive juice.
He then agrees that the awful drink is his mistake and says he wanted it a different way and then remembers that to get it that way you have to order it wet, not dirty.
Yeah asshole, good job at trying to make a drink sexual and seem sophisticated.
Asshat.
Somehow, after that, we get onto the topic of evolution and how we came from fish...
oh yes,
we talked about vegetarianism.
I said I was vegetarian for some reason and he asked if it was to save the cute little animals, I said it was for health, society and animals (because those are really my reasons) and he went on this mini tirade about women who go vegetarian because of the cute little animals and how we can eat snakes too and lalala this man likes to hear himself talk. I say something about how fish aren't cute (because unless they are brightly colored I don't think they are cute... catfish? not cute) and he says they are and that we come from fish. He specifies the lung fish.
I say for shits and giggles that I thought we came from monkeys so then he says no, before that. So I ask if the monkeys and Neanderthals came from this lung fish and he then goes off about how Neanderthals are a branch of homo erectus/homo sapien (and no i don't mean a gay erection) line and that we do not come from them and I was trying to say it was a part of our evolution and he was talking over me (which is a HUGE pet peeve of mine) and saying "honey honey honey honey honey I'm a microbiologist, neanderthals are a different branch lalala" while I'm saying "I don't like you" and "don't fucking call me honey" in a more moderate tone.
He thinks it's still all fun and games and I'm fucking pissed.
1) Don't talk over me
2) Don't interrupt me unless it's friendly banter and I know you
3) Don't show off your perceived male dominance with either of the above options
4) Don't think you're smarter than me... you look like shit and clearly don't have a girlfriend and are complaining about a drink you ordered. You're not smarter than me.
I'm sure there are more don'ts but I'll just move on.
I look at my friend and give him the "this guy is a dipshit look" while ignoring the dipshit as he's trying to spout more information my way.
He then says I'm the smartest person he's met in a strip club. I thought he was talking about my friend who is smart as well. He says no, he's talking about me, even though he had just finished "honey"ing me out of my fucking mind and sneaking in that he was a microbiologist one more time.
I was served garlic toast during this interaction and ate it as he talked trying to ignore him. After I was done he decided to tell me I was really going to need some mints as I'm opening my purse to get some mints out.
By this time I hate the ugly bastard and so I say, "this coming from a man drinking a dirty martini." He says that he knows his breath is bad but he doesn't have to worry about it and I do have to worry about mine.
While the basis of this is true it is not something that I suggest telling ANY woman. I don't care if we are strippers or prostitutes... don't tell us how to do our job. If you don't like what we have, dirty, stinky, garlic breath and all, go away. We have to deal with your stinky, pudgy, creepy, loser ass and we don't get paid NEARLY enough to do so and we still keep a smile on our face. Would you say that to a girl you are trying to sleep with? No? Don't say it to me.
I get it, you think because you have the money you get to tell us what to do...
NOPE!
This is how it goes... we put on our show, the one we decide on, and you pay if you want to watch and if you don't like it you look the other way, keep your mouth shut, drink your disgusting drink and leave us alone.
My name was called why he was justifying why he got to have smelly breath and so I walked off.
For some insane reason (I guess he was a bit thick) he followed me to my stage and watched my stage set.
I ignored him as much as I possibly could.
I probably could have gotten some dances out of him but by this point I wanted to shove my heal through one eardrum and out the other and so it wouldn't have worked out well. I can't hide hate from my eyes as well as most strippers.
He tried to talk to me again after the stage set and I just wasn't having it so he finally went away and left me be. Smartest thing he did all day I think!
So there you have it, another tale of idiocy...
-D
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