Known for reliability

Welp, it's been a while since my last post, AGAIN. shoot. again having problems logging in after logging into my other blog and I can NOT have the two mix. No, no, no, soooo I took a break from here, but not from twitter just so you know!
But, I figured it all out! I'll use Firefox when doing this blog and Safari for my other, more family and future job appropriate, blog.

Now that that business is taken care of....

I've been trying a new club as of late. It's a good time and a really good decision. Turns out people don't like sulky strippers and well, I turn sulky when people don't pay me for my hard work. Don't act like it's not hard work, I have bruises and strains (of my cheek muscles from fake smiling so hard) to prove it.
I use to really enjoy this job. I have a secret (to my other life) exhibitionist hidden in here and shit, I love attention. I love when people tell me I'm hot and sexy and they want to fuck me. I love turning guys on, even if they will never be able to turn me on. Why? Maybe power, maybe self esteem issues branching from problems in junior high, who knows...

Point is, I use to like this job but lately I've been questioning it. Yes it can still be fun, yes the occasional customer can remind me of the fun times I had but at this one club things just felt like they were spiraling out of control and it felt like I would never make money again AND like I just bored the fuck out of the customers on my rack.

I'm not normally a big fan of myself but here's what I can say. I'm NOT boring on stage. I am also not boring in lap dances. I'm not boring. The only time I'm really boring, EVER, in life is when I feel super uncomfortable and get shy and second guess myself. I don't do that on stage anymore, ever. I've seen how the other girls dance and shit dude, I got a lot going for me. I'm going to throw modesty away for a bit and say I can give a hell of a sexy show. If you're male and have any interest in my body type I can most likely get you hard... with your clothes still on.

Haha, I guess that's really not saying much. There are plenty a girl in the strip club that have jacked faces, or jacked bodies and still make these club goers create tents with their pants. Really dude? THAT face doesn't make the boner go weak? Good thing I'm not a dude or many, many chicks wouldn't be getting money, OR getting laid.

But that's just me.

So right, new club... stories so far...

-a man stuck his finger in my belly button. I think he was pretending like it was my bottom fun hole (not to be mixed with my back bottom fun hole) which just made me sad for any woman he had been with. Sir, that's not going to make any girl cum.

-same man asked if I liked big or small... clearly referring to dick size. I, in my infinite wisdom, decided to tell him that it didn't matter as long as they knew how to use it... he proceeded to try and hump me in mid dance, in his sitting position. oh yes baby, that would give it to me right. hahahahaha no.

- it is a very small percentage of male that gives two shits about a pole trick. unless of course that's your whole shtick and you do things maybe 3 girls in the world do. We have one of those girls at my first club. She's fantastic and I'd throw down cash if I were a customer. as for me, well guys rather I be thisclose to them, as soon as I start climbing the pole they literally look everywhere else. no one cares.

-acting dumber than I am really makes for great conversation. the biggest pig (like misogynistic)  i've met ever (that's been open with his ideas) was going on about how the pull out method works great and it's all good because he doesn't have any stds he's been tested and he'll just check out the downstairs before he puts it in and how no one watches women's sports and they aren't really sports because no one bets on the outcome and how he fucked some chick with his roommate (yup, two dude threesome) but then because she wouldn't let his friend put it in the back bottom fun hole she made him stop and just went to the room with this winner I now had the joy of talking to. She continued there to "force" him to hump her even though he claimed whiskey dick and THEN she took his money and his cell phone before he woke up the next day. He said more stuff about this chick like she should have been a team player and let it go in the back bottom fun hole if she was going to steal money blah blah blah but I'd already judged him by then and decided the girl definitely deserved the money she took.

- sometimes when people (guys) talk I wonder how in the world they EVER get a girl to sleep with them. Hot, ugly, decent, doesn't matter. These guys blow my mind with their idiocy. I literally laugh in their face...

-which reminds me... worked a day shift, it was going well for a bit then I got hungry and tired of a different girl (not a great dancer but with a nice, real, rack) getting so many effing dances. So this guy comes to my stage, and he has at least one indicator that he's not going to spend money but I smile anyways, because I guess that's one part of the job, and he starts with how the song is almost over and I'm going to leave the stage. His excuse for no money down. I told him I'd still be there so then he musters the energy or something to sit down, talks more, worries again about how the song is almost over, I say once again I'm not leaving the stage yet, he throws a couple ones down, I dance, take off layer one of the bottoms, clap my ass (yeah i said it!) and come back to give him attention when he says "you probably don't have time for friends do you." I didn't know if he was trying to say I was a snooty bitch so I said I hang out with friends a lot and I adopted a high pitched voice which apparently is less snooty and less off putting. He then said "well, I'm not trying to switch things up or anything but maybe we can hang out sometime." I laughed. That's it, I just laughed. Then I went back to the pole to climb and do a trick or two. I look over, he's still at the rack but looking at his cell phone. Homie, you're not popular or busy. You just asked a stripper to hang out after not even a full song. You threw $2. You're not rich, you have NO idea how to get a stripper's attention and you're a fucking moron.

I'm beginning to realize that I would love it if these guys really did believe all we were interested in was their money. I enjoy good conversation but man the more I work the more I just want them to pay me to dance and then have them gtfo.

If you want a prostitute go to a whore house, I'm not about to let you touch my boobs or lady luck for a mere $20. I'm DEFINITELY not going to touch yours for that little and you're fucking high as a kite in space if you think I'm going to put my gorgeous, clean mouth anywhere near the skin of your dick. Ever.  Wait, that makes it sound like touching boobs or puss in boots could happen with enough money... we're talking in the high high hundred thousands with confirmation of no diseases before my mind would consider it. What? Don't look at me like that! We all have a price for certain things. I don't have a price for killing a creature human or anything bigger than a bug. I just won't do it.

Tangent alert.

Point being, high high hundred thousands basically right next door to a million could pay for just about everything I want to do in life right now. With half in savings. I've had people touch with far worse outcomes... no pay, NO DINNER, I paid for dinner... AND no grand finale. At least with the hundreds of thousands option if I didn't cum (let's be real I wouldn't) I'd have money to roll around it for a decade or more.

But seriously, no less than high hundreds of thousands. And since I don't think those kinds of customers exist because there are hookers who do it for way less, hell there are dancers who do it for way less, my nips and love button are safe from those wandering hands. Unfortunately I still subject her to dates wandering hands...

my last thought goes a little like this: gentlemen, it's not a button on a remote with dying batteries. If you push it harder and harder it does not make me happy, in fact it makes me really uncomfortable. Imagine me flat handing the tip of your dick over and over when you're really feeling good. Just hitting it. I feel like that might just hurt. Well, yeah, SO STOP IT! It's more like a rollerball on a mouse, be gentle, a little goes a long way.

and I'm out!

I'm sorry it's been so long. It's been called to my attention that I have been a bit of a downer to the other dancers and customers and so I've been reevaluating, trying other places and trying to enjoy life in clothes so when I'm out of them I have some happiness to work with.

I'll be honest with you, positive does not breed funny tweets so I've decided to keep my negative commentary from spilling out of my mouth, but I will not make you suffer through the monotony of positivity.

So... Couple short stories/ happenings....

A man told me he rather hadn't taken off my bottoms during my stage set. Funny thing is, I wish he hadn't been a closet gay and had deeper pockets. Lose lose?

I've been doing a go go shift once a week at a club downtown. I'm in love with the main fire dancer, I might geek out and tell her.

Speaking of go go...I was vacumming out my car today and found a lot of divorce dust (glitter), word to wise, don't bring me in your car after I've been a go go. I don't wear glitter on my body when I strip... The name divorce dust should give you a clue as to why... But go god know no such rules and get completely glitter fucked (we look like I would imagine the twilight vamps to be in the sun) and sweaty and then touch people and they get glitter ducked too.

Times up for stories right now.

Until next time...

Buy a dance D.

here

Sometimes I really, truly do. Some days, (lately not so much, but more on that later) maybe even most days I love what I do.

Why?

Well... let me count the reasons

1. I work with gorgeous girls

2. Said gorgeous girls get naked

3. we talk about anything and everything we want out of earshot of the custies

4. sometimes we do that in earshot of custies

5. we are close enough to tell each other what we love about each girl's body

6. I dance and get paid

7. I don't sit behind a desk

8. for the most part I pick my own hours

9. I get told I'm beautiful/gorgeous/sexy/a unicorn on a work night basis

10. I work with some bi -> lezzie and boy do those ladies know how to hit your hot spots in a second

11. there's more but just see above

I'm lucky to work at a club where I have good friends from before AND where the ladies are all pretty supportive of each other. We have our momentary hate sessions where we can't believe someone is making as much as she is and we're jealous as hell but there's no stealing, no putting others down, no real talking behind each other's backs (with the exception of some new girls with annoying as fuck tendencies or full on sluts that make it harder for the rest of us to earn an honest dollar), no fist fights and for the most part the custies are respectful. Sometimes really dumb, but generally respectful. 

But then there are other times where as great as reasons 1-11 are, money gets tight (even though I'm not doing coke and don't have a bad shopping addiction) and nobody seems to be getting/wanting dances and some girls that are less pretty or less fun or younger, or older or whatever are getting dances and you're fucking poor in the corner trying to at the very least fake a smile... these are the times where it is a lot harder to love what I do. 

It's in times like these that I question why I do what I do. I haven't been in the industry super long (which is probably why I don't make what more seasoned strippers would consider decent money on a good night) and so I get frustrated. I let my insecurities blind me. I get to the point of no return and just want to go in the back and cry. Yeah, a stripper crying. Great. Write a song about it... oh wait somebody already did. 

I didn't know to plan for April being horrible and to spend half of May trying to recover from the crash that is tax season. I tried keeping my chin up night after shitty, shitty night but after a while it got really hard to smile when yet another custie would tell me I was pretty and not get a dance. I get it, I'm hot, let's do this. Instead they would low ball me or just walk off which would leave me feeling the need to take my heals off, run after them and cut their throats with the sharp edge of my heal. 

I've tried to figure out what I can do to make money better. Not every girl is feeling the shit April that I am. Most are, but there are a couple weathering the storm just fine. I need to watch them, I need to stop being jealous and wondering what they have that I don't. I need to start closing off the world behind my eyes and looking like I'm DTF at any minute.

Apparently it isn't about the strip tease anymore. It's about who they could actually possibly get to do something extra or take home. Apparently talent is not necessary, and looking good is not an issue. Those who look 12, or trashy, or DTF or hard are the ones that keep getting the dances. It's not about what you say it's about the look in your face and eyes when you say it.

I'm going to have to start writing lines before I go to work:

Me love you long time. Oh I'm a naughty girl! I would fuck you but the rules say I can't and I'm reaaaal scared of my boss. I'm so wet. All I want to do is fuck... etc etc... lalala.

Operation bimbo in effect.

-D

Called Out... With the Truth

Tonight I've been reading over just about every post The Angry Stripper has posted in hopes of learning something new I could use when I came across this post.

You see, I have a confession to make that I really don't want to make...

I'm a broke stripper.

I'm a broke stripper with no drinking, drug or really even any shopping habits (other than thrifting occaisionally) who has no other bills than her car, insurance, rent, phone and food. Oh right, utitlities... Point being, this (broke) stripper has no huge loans to pay off and can't seem to get money into savings. SAVINGS!

Why am I poor? Good question... please help me out with an answer.

Let's look at the facts of my day

1) bust my ass to look good naked (we'll break this down further)
   a) shower and make sure everything smells clean
   b) I take the time to shave my legs
   c) I also take the time and deal with the pain of shaving the vag, I don't care if they like hair or not, whatever I do with it still means I'm taking time on it and it's again for customer enjoyment (also working  around razor burn is really effing difficult no matter what methods you use, I have sensitive skin, this take a lot of work)
   d) put on make up (and it's not cheap)
   e) put on fake eyelashes
   f) style my hair (whether flat iron or curl this takes a good 45 minutes, I have long and all natural hair)
   g) keep my nails groomed
   (I'm sure there is more but I'm tired and ready to move on)
2) I find an outfit that compliments my body perfectly and makes them want to see more...
3) I wear heals bigger than the average customer's dick
4) all night
5) dancing
6) and on the pole
7) I talk to the customers
8) and deal with sob stories,
9) or guys treating the club like a dating service,
10) or even better a whore house.
11) I make an effort to improve all moves I do to make them look better and sexier to the customer
12) I also work to improve my pole tricks, I haven't decided if this ends up just being for me but oh well
13) I bruise and batter my body doing #11 and 12
14) I don't get paid an hourly wage

All of those things seem like good reasons to be making an average of AT LEAST $200 a night. Lately I've been lucky to make $450 a week (working at LEAST 5 days, and at LEAST 5 hours per day).

Let's break that down shall we? $450 divided by (at the least) 31 hours

$14/hour

About $14 dollars an hour... at best

Yes you can argue that $14 is better than minimum wage but minimum wage isn't paying for a normal lifestyle AND minimum wage isn't getting naked, or even semi naked... and doing something other than sitting at a desk.

$14 an hour means less than one dance an hour. Or less than $20 for two stage sets which means 4 songs...

$14 dollars an hour means me wanted to pulverize customers and other strippers a like when I hear "what do I get with that" when I ask them for dances. Or "I don't want a dance but you're really intriguing, can I get your number?" No mother fucker you can't. If I had a hundy for every girlfriend hunter I had I'd be set. But that's just the problem isn't it? Girlfriend hunters have no money, they just want you to give them dances where they can touch for free in their house, and tell them you like them, and get all mushy over how wonderful they are, and quit stripping because they don't  want to "share" you. Can you tell by this rant how far my finger is down my throat right now? Gag.

I'm not sure why I'm so broke unless this is a common Portland thing. I don't need to be overly famous, though I would like it if I were well known and paid well. I get it, Portland has a lot of strip clubs where just about anyone, oh wait, NOPE, anyone, can strip if they want to, but I'm fucking pretty. Like unicorn status pretty (I know because some customer told me so...wtf). But seriously, I use to be really self conscious and self loathing but if there is one thing I've gained in my path to being fed up it is a knowledge that I deserve far more money than I am making.

But why D? All you do is take off your clothes?

Oh really, that's all I do huh. Let's see you try it lame girl in the back glaring or ugly male at my rack thinking he can give his opinion on every inch of my body. Lets see you get up here, bust out these moves, hide your razor burned balls, wear skimpy outfits, walk in 7 inch heals, no wait, DANCE in 7 inch heals AND make it all look good/that you like doing it. And that's just the mother fucking beginning.

Sarah, from The Angry Stripper says it best like this:

"$200 a night is not good money. $300 a night is only okay money. $400 is getting a bit better … "


If I were making $200 a night which would be about $40 an hour I would be so stoked. Sad, I know. 


Time to move on to a new club or five? Yes, yes I think so.


Now go pay your local stripper.


-D

How I Got Here

As you may or may not have guessed us dancing naked ladies have been asked the same questions over and over again, at least once a (work) night for the duration of our career. I figure as a little bit more of an introduction (and possibly explanation) to me I am going to do a different post for each of the common questions.

Tonight: What got you into this kind of work?

I would first like to call attention to the emphasis in this string of words. I don't know if you mean to be condescending dear person (and hopefully money spender) but it definitely comes across this way. Are you trying to say with your words that I shouldn't be here because I am too a)pretty b)smart c)both d)too good for the occupation? And if that is what you mean then is it suppose to be a compliment? And if it is meant to be flattering that I am smarter/prettier/more well rounded/whatever than the average stripper that you know (and or think of in stereotype) then where does that put you on the spectrum? You're enabling these girls to continue this low line of work. I should ask you what brings you into this kind of bar, especially with that wedding ring on. 

But I digress, that's not answering anything is it?

So here's the supposing someone is just doing an anthropological or sociological study of dancers and is asking (with very little opinion or bias) literally what lead up to this choice.

I don't know when it really began. I remember as a little girl playing with my friend and somehow already knowing about sex and what it meant to be sexy. I was maybe 6. One day we were dancing on top of her trundle bed and I pretended to start stripping, I told her we were dancers and we were taking our clothes off. She said okay but only because she was forced to and didn't want to. Totally killed my buzz. Until then I just thought it was sexy and not in a negative way. So there was that episode. 

Next came junior high and high school where I figured I wasn't pretty so I would just have to be smart. I so wanted to be the "sexy" or "hot" or even "popular" one but I was also painfully self conscious. Didn't matter that people had been complimenting me since birth, I thought only adults saw things that way because DUH boys were making fun of me all the time. (Turns out that's flirting?)

Somewhere in the mix of JH and HS Coyote Ugly came out and I wanted nothing more than to have a job where I danced on bars looking hot like those girls. Seriously. I was maybe 13. 

Oh yeah, and I'm naturally flexible.

High School was more trying to be as smart as possible because I wasn't that pretty (in my eyes) and no guy could possibly find me cute enough to date. I did dance during this time and loved performance days because dancing was something I knew I was good at and I wanted the guys at school to think my dancing was hot. No, not good/hood (I was in a hip hop group), but sexy as fuck. 

I guess it didn't matter because I wouldn't have believed it if guys thought it was sexy anyway. I would have thought they were lying.

When I listened to certain music in high school and beyond I would imagine dancing "sexily" to it as if giving a lap dance or a private show. Seriously, looking back it was just bound to be in the cards. My self made repression and disbelief led me to study the hottest women I knew.

The ones that danced with little to no clothing.

College came and as I defined my major I took human sexuality classes as well as sex in media classes that made me realize that while there were creeps in these places there were also just lonely people. Not only that but there was a community of people (women) that actually enjoyed the profession and while society put negative connotations to the act and occupation, these women didn't care and some even dared to call themselves feminists.

I fell in love. Feminist porn stars and dancers? Hell yeah!

One day while getting some fun bits pierced I made friends with a girl and her boyfriend. We all hung out and I asked what she was doing. Dancing is what she said sheepishly. I swooned and begged her to tell me about it. (After telling her how rad I thought that was, well, as long as she was happy with it)

We became good friends and one of our other friends was auditioning one night and after mulling the idea over in my head over and over again I finally went for it.

I auditioned, the female owner hired me immediately (even thought my moves weren't that great) and I was suppose to start the next week. Then I slept on it and the old guilt came creeping in. What are people going to think? Is this dirty? I didn't feel dirty dancing, it felt like a lot of fun... What am I doing with my life? Etc. I am a really big worrier.

I cancelled on the club for a week and then after realizing I didn't want to NOT go through with it I called back and asked if I could come in. I was forgiven for the cancel and allowed to work. I stayed at that club only two weeks before I left the state for other reasons but that was the beginning. 

Next time: Why do I do it? 

Giddy like a school girl

Two great things,
1) Awesome comment about my writing style and a vote to keep blogging! Thank you!
2) my comment on Angry Stripper made it into her post!

How awesome is that? I'm tried to think of who to text but realized I don't have many of my coworkers' numbers haha.

And now the debate that has been going in my head since I woke up (maybe an hour ago): to go to work or to stay home...

$ or rest, that is the question.

-D

7 up with bitters

There are nights in a stripper's career, (well, at least this stripper's career) when you just aren't feeling it. The moves you do (every night) just don't feel as sexy, you feel kind of drone-ish and the weird ass shit people say to you really make it that much worse.
Tonight, my dear friends, was just one of those nights.
I, Strip Anonymous may not have eaten enough before work, or spent too much time coloring in a huge sponge bob square pants theme coloring page before hitting the floor... whatever it was, I just wasn't feeling my work persona, I was feeling a little down and a little too real.
That's dangerous, real (and slightly sad) me is NOT a money maker. Real me pouts and retreats, real me gets jealous and self conscious. None of these things are good on the floor, none of these things = money in my wallet. I understand completely that the males who come in do not want someone whiney and sad and despondent, someone they have to work to talk to... they don't want that because they either have it at home or they choose to be single so they don't have to deal with it at home.
I understand this but am still unable to snap out of it when it hits at its worse. Thanks brain for that tonight, my bank account can afford it. Hats off to you and such.

Before I continue on in a melodramatic way all whaaaa whaaa whaaa and such I'm going to get to the good stuff. The stupid shit that came out of a customer's mouth...


are you ready for it...

goes a little like this:

Him: You fine, like a baby making machine...

I say with no effort at being playful: Oh no, no no no, not a baby makin machine.
I think: What the fuck....

I mean, like, I just want to make a baby with you...

Me trying to salvage some flirtiness so everyone doesn't think I'm a complete bitch: Oh, welll I guess that's a compliment. ha ha. (force laugh) I guess that's better.
I think: Seriously dude, stop while you're ahead... do NOT dig that grave even deeper. Stick with the ever horrible pussy flattery, you know "oh that's one nice pussy/kitty/cat/snatch/cookie/other name they think is creative for vagina" At least then I can still pretend to like you and just think you're a gross motherfucker.

Next time I'm on stage:

Him: How old are you...

I answer

Him: Oh it's time I get a baby in you (or something else equally as charming)...

I've given up on being nice at this point, no longer smiling and just said: NOPE!



Lesson of the day: Shut your mouth. You think I have a nice vagine... great, keep it to yourself, it's really not a compliment. I know you'd love it if more ladies told you that your dick was so big they just felt sore for days and it was so nice lalala but just give up the dream and in this case, ignore that golden rule and don't treat us as you'd like to be treated. If we reciprocate about your dick we're lying and then slamming you in the head with our shoe because your dick shouldn't be out for us to see in the first place. Or maybe that's just at my non sketch ball club.
Tell us we're gorgeous, tell us we're fun, tell us our boobs are nice, seriously, especially for those in the natural titty committee that's alright to hear, at least I don't mind it... others that have been in the game longer might just brush it off as yet another compliment that no one really means. Who knows.
If you HAVE to open your mouth say we smell nice (but not when we're standing over you) or we turn you on or something, stick to the generics (as long as it's not asking us out PLEEEASE). Don't end up one of our stories. (Or as the safe sex people say: don't be a statistic)