Once upon a time there was a dancer named Ginger who worked at a strip club right by an armed forces base. I 'm not going to say which one or which kind, I will say that Ginger is me. I have since changed my name.
Why? Because I get called Ginger all the time anyway and I wanted something new. Deal.
So, one night Ms. Ginger was working per usual and she spied, from stage these two high and tight haired men (boys) in the dark side corner of the club from her stage. She may have been bent over holding the pole looking through her legs. Detail, unimportant.
After doing her two song set (gosh I love two song sets, I miss those on weekdays) she stepped down and went around for her tips.
As she got closer to the dark corner she decided to stay and talk to the two young armed force men (boys). One was tipping for the other though I'm not sure why, maybe they had a butt buddy love thing going on (no judgment, just should have seen the first red flag...)
I sat with the paying one, not because he had deep pockets, but because I found him cutest. We talked for a while, I asked him questions about himself and really started getting antsy wantin to ask him for his number. While I was onstage he was talking to a different girl and got a dance from her. Red flag number two. He told me how he had just come back from Afanistan and had tried dating this girl he had met on Facebook but she had expected to stay the night and he didn't like moving that fast with a girl. He said he didn't kiss on the first date and I believed him. Remember he said first date because I ignored hat part.
We chat some more and I figure out a way to get him my number. (On a dollar I put in his pocket.) He texts me later and everything seems cool.
We plan to hang out the next night and by that I mean we plan to sneak me onto base (yes I had to be sneaked in... red flag again?) so that we can just hang out and possibly watch a movie.
I agree because I can't have anyone where I was living at the time (with my mom... yeah, I was that cool). I get down to where I am going, we sneak me in and we start a movie.
I'm not sure if we watched the whole thing before he started making moves but that doesn't really matter. I'm not sure I even remember what movie we watched, probably a war movie. Cliche.
We end up kinda making out, but not really. Actually it was the best tease I've ever had and I was totally cool with it (so there want more from your lapdance custies!) and then I had to leave. I think I said something cute (aka dumb) like, I want you to still want to call me tomorrow when he asked how far we should go. So he stopped and I left all riled and out of sorts and giddy. (read: stupid)
Next night, or maybe two nights later I get a bad feeling about this dude because he's being short with me via text (yes I can tell) and I'm bummed. Lust drunk or something. Eventually we make plans to hang out after I get off work and I'm stoked. So stoked and excited and still apprehensive.
I call him to see if he wants to meet me to get some food, he says no (another red flag, not hanging out outside of his place) and so I get myself food and then go his way. It's a bit of a hassle because I have to get a permit or something to be there (yay military places!) and I get a tad lost (again, yay military bases) and I'm slightly frustrated and he's not helping and finally I get him to answer the phone and give me his info and I remember laughing with the person manning the permit office about his last name but oh well.
I get to his room, finally and he's drunk (great) and wants to watch another movie I think. We make out for a second, he pushes it a tad farther this time, I'm game for some reason and soon my clothes are on but his pants are below his happy area. His doing not mine. He's out of it, aka drunk and I, like a dumb girl, give him what he wants. In giving him a helping hand or two I take off my rings. This will be important later I assure you.
He finishes, lucky him, tries in a fumbly drunk way to help me out but doesn't do anything right, nothing like the great tease he was before and he starts to fall asleep so I leave. I wave goodbye to his buddies in the other room and take off feeling good and horrible at the same time.
The next couple of days I hear nothing from him and it's about this time that I realize my rings are no where to be found. Yup, left those suckers there. UGH! So I text him about that saying something like hey, cleaned my room, looked everywhere do you have my rings. No answer.
I talk to my friend Jane who I worked with about this shithead not answering me and she comes up with a master plan. This is why you never make an enemy out of a stripper:
Plan of attack according to Jane:
Go to a taco cart, a realll sketchy one, eat a bunch of tacos, take some exlax, go to his door and shit on his porch.
I think she was a little more than slightly serious. While I totally appreciated her want to help me out my inability to publicly defecate made me question the plan. I'm shy when it comes to poop, so sorry.
A week later, still no answer and I text his friend I had met that same fateful night. I asked him about the rings, he responded in less than an hour saying that Jared (that's the guy's name I'm not even going to change it that mother fucker) did in fact have my rings.
OH REALLY?!
Now I was really sad I didn't have the courage to publicly shit anywhere. That pussy had my rings, got my text and just decided he didn't need to answer?!
I gave him head! He came! I didn't! Least he could do was say yeah, I'll drop them by your club, I don't want to see you again.
That would have been hurtful but better than the next month I had to spend getting them back.
It turned out that his friend tried to get them back to me but was going on leave so he left them with Jared the scared scared little boy. Once he got back Jared left for leave and I guess had no way of letting his friend get the rings.
THEN one fine night at work these two guys look at me like they know me. They ask if I remember them and it dawns on me all of a sudden. These boys were in the other room the night I left my rings. I probably looked like I was going to kill them. I figured they were in on the whole thing and I was such a joke around base.
Nope, they thought I was hot and both wanted to get with me. Friends said I should have slept with one of them for revenge but I'm not good at revenge sex and so I decided not to stoop to the pussies level of idiocy.
I did get my rings back from one of them finally and it just serves as a great reminder to NEVER, and I mean NEVER take a custie (no matter if he gets dances or not) home with you.
- The only semi embarrassed, D
Friday, July 29, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Just Another Day At the Office
Even on slow days there is at least one interesting thing that happens. Sometimes it's good interesting, sometimes it's bad and sometimes it's just what it is... a tad crazy.
Today felt a little off at work, not enough to totally ruin my money, but definitely enough to make me leave a little dissatisfied with the hours put in.
A new (we returning girl) worked tonight and she's friends with this chick that I've seen elsewhere a time or two who really just rubbed me wrong. (Not literally, we've never been that close.) Maybe it's just my inability to deal with drunk attention whores or attention whores regardless of blood alcohol level.
Granted, those of us in this profession have to like or pretend to like attention at least a little bit, probably more than the average woman walking down the street, unless she's doing porn or into being watched while fucking... point is, I have no hate for women who are fun and rock a stage set. I have a problem with those who don't let each dancer have their time to shine. They have this one thing they can do besides catching guys eyes by looking (acting) easy and they use it as much as possible to get the attention they need.
I'm pretty sure for this girl it isn't even about the money really, that's a side benefit. She drives me fucking crazy.
Tonight when I walked in I saw her and though, ugh, really?! I wondered what she would try to pull seeing as I had just seen her two nights before at a different venue. I call her Not An Amateur. She does Amateur hour at Dante's even though she's won a few competitions for dancing. Seriously? I get it, you think you're good, and technically you are, but can you leave the Amateur hour for Amateurs? Go find a club where you have to compete with other girls as good as you for money. Seriously.
So tonight, I was like awwww shit when I saw her. I didn't want to have to think about it. But I figured, hey, she's not going to be on stage, it'll be okay. I was sitting in the dressing room when I heard returning girl ask the DJ if NAA could get on stage with her for her set... MOTHER FUCKER!!!!!
As I come out of the dressing room I see Returning Girl and NAA both dancing on main stage and I want to scream. Seriously, I'm way past the jealousy stage of my stripper growth, it has nothing to do with that. She doesn't fucking work here! She's been taking up this random guy's time that COULD be tipping not just me, but her friend as well. She's drunk (per usual) and it's a slow Tuesday night. Get away from our money lady! We have a hard enough time pulling out of these guys' wallets as is.
That was part one of the "interesting" night.
Part 2...
My first dance....
Oh sigh, I kinda know that if I get a dance early in the night it's not looking so hot for the rest of the night. It's weird and I try not to believe it and I keep high hopes but that's how it goes most of the time. So first dance... we sit in back for the second half of the song we walked in on so that I don't cheat him from extra dance seconds and somehow in that span of time he gets himself hard. No joke. Maybe he was watching the porn going on the screen back in the dance room, I dunno. So I start my dance and he tries to make it a certain way and I relent at some points and then do my own thing at others, I refuse to b just a sex simulator. But even with my dislike of being a breathing sex doll this man gets really worked up, looks at the porn, grinds back on me and then all of a sudden stops and watches me do my thing. He pulls his shirt as far down as he can by this point. I wonder if he came. I then wipe the underneath of my leg. It's wet. Was that sweat from being on stage and then giving a dance... or did he come?
I figure it was the latter. Almost positive.
I didn't get an extra tip. Just the tip? Haha, no but really...
stripper suggestion: If you jizz in your pants, or even worse, out the leg of your basketball shorts (that did not happen to me but did happen to a friend) tip the girl extra.
Obviously this girl did something right. Whether you were thinking of someone else or whatever during the thing she still has to use extra baby wipes to clean up the mess you left behind.
Also, hope your swimmers are not strong and/or she's on birth control.
Which brings me to Part 3
This should really be part one because it started out my night but oh well, this is how I am remember things, deal.
I'm sitting in the dressing room and one of the lovelies I work with (lovelies if I like them...) comes back and says, "I just had the weirdest thing happen to me." I made some smart ass guess asking if a guy tried to put his finger in her vag... she said no.
But this is what did happen.
Lovely (not her stripper name) was giving this dude, a regular, a dance and she turned around to rub her butt on his crotch (very normal move) but when she went to look behind her she saw he had pulled his dick out and was about to try and put it in her asshole, or her vag hole. That particular detail isn't really THAT important.
But don't worry dear readers...
He thought it through. He already had a condom on.
Yes, that's right. He was going to practice safe rape.
She asked him what the hell he was doing, he said "Don't worry I don't do it without a condom" or something close to that and she said "I don't do that at all."
Now, here's my question. WHO DOES THAT?!?!?!
You're a regular, you know the rules. You didn't even ask.
stripper suggestion: DON'T EVER ASSUME. Remember if you assume you make an ass of you and me. Yeah, exactly.
Don't touch anywhere without asking, don't venture into hot zones after she says you can touch her thighs. Don't push the lines, be fucking respectful! I get it, man like sex. Man like woman, man grab woman. blah blah blah caveman bullshit.
I know you know how to behave you asshole. I know you know how to ask for things you want. You're a man. Seriously why have the majority of guys failed to figure out if you even just pretend to be a gentleman (seriously you can pretend, you don't even have to really be one) you're going to get farther with a lot more women a lot more times than if you act like a fucking Neanderthal*.
Don't fucking whine to me about how it's sooooo hard to not touch a woman sitting on your lap. I get it. Be a man, get a dance and if you don't like how that one girl does it give her the money for one, thank her and go get another girl.
I'm sure you'll find a ho bag soon enough.
Remember, this is not a brothel. You came into a strip club. If you find a girl that happens to have a menu (a variety of things she'll do for a price) then what a score for you (please note sarcastic tone dripping off those words) but don't act like we're doing something wrong when we're doing our job.
If all girls played by the fucking rules we wouldn't have to let any of you mother fuckers touch us and you wouldn't know the difference because no girl would have let you touch in a club before. You would still be excited by the fact that a hot or seemly easy (or both) woman was draping her body on yours.
Tangent: What happen to the days when Burlesque shows were exciting and titillating for guys? What happen to your imagination and thrill of voyeurism? Drives me crazy when I think about it. We've lost the tease aspect of these shows. Sure, most of the time you won't get a blow job or sex but you sure get some friction on your dick somehow.
And is that comfortable? Jeans or your boxers/briefs/whatever rubbing against your dry dick? I feel like it might chafe.
I'm getting carried away, Part 4 ended the night, on no wait... there are two more parts, my bad.
Part 4: dance #2
Dance number two was a man who may have been a gyno from the way he was trying to push on my belly area. Maybe he was trying to feel the outline of my uterus? Really confused. Or maybe he didn't like that it stuck out a little so he was trying to push it back in to forget about it. Haha, maybe that's it.
Sorry dude, I like to eat. I had a burrito before you got here, maybe my tumtum has a little bloat going on. Deal.
Part 5: Drunk Girl
I've never seen this chick this drunk before. She was freaking out about losing something she didn't lose, she was walking around on the floor naked not to get guys to look but just because, she was practically making out with two different customers through the night. One that looked a tad like Santa Claus. Maybe she's trying to get on the nice list.
Then she got down from main stage before the song was even over and stood there with second almost make out partner and then walked and expected him to follow her into the dance room. I'm surprised she was able to walk.
Later she comes out of the dressing room in a sweater but no bottoms, I assume to get rid of the alcohol jumble in her stomach. She finally comes out and falls. Like face first falls onto the floor, ass in the air.
The guy at my rack laughs, well yeah. Almost Make Out Partner #2 tells him it's not funny, oh please. It kinda is. Maybe don't get so drunk you fall down. Maybe put some bottoms on.
FINALLY Part 6!
Last dance of the night. I get off main stage, I was the main dancer for the last set (this means nothing important at all, just setting the stage), talk to the guy that laughed at drunk girl falling and see guy from other rack heading toward atm. Figure he just wants a dance with whoever, stay out on main with only tiny bottoms on to see what he wants. All other dancers are dressed in real people clothes or giving a dance. He comes over and asks for a dance. YUSSS! I just needed that one more to make my bottom goal.
We go back in the back, he's reluctant to really talk. I finally stop and the new song starts. I'm doing my thing lalala, making eye contact, messing with my hair etc etc and he starts to move up, like to make out.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
I really wish other girls didn't make out with their customers. Seriously. I'm sorry I'm picky in real life about who I make out with, I'm NOT swapping spit with customers**.
Gross.
I'm sure all your mouths are clean but gross. By the way you try and simulate sex with me while I'm giving a dance I can tell we wouldn't work together smooching.
Alright, that's it for the night. I'm going to go be pissed about how the newest episode of Pretty Little Liars isn't uploaded on the website yet. (I don't have a tv and therefore can't watch it when it actually plays nor can I record it.)
-$D$
(Maybe if I surround my name with $ I'll make some)
*No actual hate on the real Neanderthals, their time and place was different.
** Okay, I dated a guy I had met at my club before, I made out with him. He was the last. I'm done dating customers. He never got a dance. Please don't hate too hard. We all get lonely and sometimes you guys seem cute and like decent guys. I make bad choices.
Today felt a little off at work, not enough to totally ruin my money, but definitely enough to make me leave a little dissatisfied with the hours put in.
A new (we returning girl) worked tonight and she's friends with this chick that I've seen elsewhere a time or two who really just rubbed me wrong. (Not literally, we've never been that close.) Maybe it's just my inability to deal with drunk attention whores or attention whores regardless of blood alcohol level.
Granted, those of us in this profession have to like or pretend to like attention at least a little bit, probably more than the average woman walking down the street, unless she's doing porn or into being watched while fucking... point is, I have no hate for women who are fun and rock a stage set. I have a problem with those who don't let each dancer have their time to shine. They have this one thing they can do besides catching guys eyes by looking (acting) easy and they use it as much as possible to get the attention they need.
I'm pretty sure for this girl it isn't even about the money really, that's a side benefit. She drives me fucking crazy.
Tonight when I walked in I saw her and though, ugh, really?! I wondered what she would try to pull seeing as I had just seen her two nights before at a different venue. I call her Not An Amateur. She does Amateur hour at Dante's even though she's won a few competitions for dancing. Seriously? I get it, you think you're good, and technically you are, but can you leave the Amateur hour for Amateurs? Go find a club where you have to compete with other girls as good as you for money. Seriously.
So tonight, I was like awwww shit when I saw her. I didn't want to have to think about it. But I figured, hey, she's not going to be on stage, it'll be okay. I was sitting in the dressing room when I heard returning girl ask the DJ if NAA could get on stage with her for her set... MOTHER FUCKER!!!!!
As I come out of the dressing room I see Returning Girl and NAA both dancing on main stage and I want to scream. Seriously, I'm way past the jealousy stage of my stripper growth, it has nothing to do with that. She doesn't fucking work here! She's been taking up this random guy's time that COULD be tipping not just me, but her friend as well. She's drunk (per usual) and it's a slow Tuesday night. Get away from our money lady! We have a hard enough time pulling out of these guys' wallets as is.
That was part one of the "interesting" night.
Part 2...
My first dance....
Oh sigh, I kinda know that if I get a dance early in the night it's not looking so hot for the rest of the night. It's weird and I try not to believe it and I keep high hopes but that's how it goes most of the time. So first dance... we sit in back for the second half of the song we walked in on so that I don't cheat him from extra dance seconds and somehow in that span of time he gets himself hard. No joke. Maybe he was watching the porn going on the screen back in the dance room, I dunno. So I start my dance and he tries to make it a certain way and I relent at some points and then do my own thing at others, I refuse to b just a sex simulator. But even with my dislike of being a breathing sex doll this man gets really worked up, looks at the porn, grinds back on me and then all of a sudden stops and watches me do my thing. He pulls his shirt as far down as he can by this point. I wonder if he came. I then wipe the underneath of my leg. It's wet. Was that sweat from being on stage and then giving a dance... or did he come?
I figure it was the latter. Almost positive.
I didn't get an extra tip. Just the tip? Haha, no but really...
stripper suggestion: If you jizz in your pants, or even worse, out the leg of your basketball shorts (that did not happen to me but did happen to a friend) tip the girl extra.
Obviously this girl did something right. Whether you were thinking of someone else or whatever during the thing she still has to use extra baby wipes to clean up the mess you left behind.
Also, hope your swimmers are not strong and/or she's on birth control.
Which brings me to Part 3
This should really be part one because it started out my night but oh well, this is how I am remember things, deal.
I'm sitting in the dressing room and one of the lovelies I work with (lovelies if I like them...) comes back and says, "I just had the weirdest thing happen to me." I made some smart ass guess asking if a guy tried to put his finger in her vag... she said no.
But this is what did happen.
Lovely (not her stripper name) was giving this dude, a regular, a dance and she turned around to rub her butt on his crotch (very normal move) but when she went to look behind her she saw he had pulled his dick out and was about to try and put it in her asshole, or her vag hole. That particular detail isn't really THAT important.
But don't worry dear readers...
He thought it through. He already had a condom on.
Yes, that's right. He was going to practice safe rape.
She asked him what the hell he was doing, he said "Don't worry I don't do it without a condom" or something close to that and she said "I don't do that at all."
Now, here's my question. WHO DOES THAT?!?!?!
You're a regular, you know the rules. You didn't even ask.
stripper suggestion: DON'T EVER ASSUME. Remember if you assume you make an ass of you and me. Yeah, exactly.
Don't touch anywhere without asking, don't venture into hot zones after she says you can touch her thighs. Don't push the lines, be fucking respectful! I get it, man like sex. Man like woman, man grab woman. blah blah blah caveman bullshit.
I know you know how to behave you asshole. I know you know how to ask for things you want. You're a man. Seriously why have the majority of guys failed to figure out if you even just pretend to be a gentleman (seriously you can pretend, you don't even have to really be one) you're going to get farther with a lot more women a lot more times than if you act like a fucking Neanderthal*.
Don't fucking whine to me about how it's sooooo hard to not touch a woman sitting on your lap. I get it. Be a man, get a dance and if you don't like how that one girl does it give her the money for one, thank her and go get another girl.
I'm sure you'll find a ho bag soon enough.
Remember, this is not a brothel. You came into a strip club. If you find a girl that happens to have a menu (a variety of things she'll do for a price) then what a score for you (please note sarcastic tone dripping off those words) but don't act like we're doing something wrong when we're doing our job.
If all girls played by the fucking rules we wouldn't have to let any of you mother fuckers touch us and you wouldn't know the difference because no girl would have let you touch in a club before. You would still be excited by the fact that a hot or seemly easy (or both) woman was draping her body on yours.
Tangent: What happen to the days when Burlesque shows were exciting and titillating for guys? What happen to your imagination and thrill of voyeurism? Drives me crazy when I think about it. We've lost the tease aspect of these shows. Sure, most of the time you won't get a blow job or sex but you sure get some friction on your dick somehow.
And is that comfortable? Jeans or your boxers/briefs/whatever rubbing against your dry dick? I feel like it might chafe.
I'm getting carried away, Part 4 ended the night, on no wait... there are two more parts, my bad.
Part 4: dance #2
Dance number two was a man who may have been a gyno from the way he was trying to push on my belly area. Maybe he was trying to feel the outline of my uterus? Really confused. Or maybe he didn't like that it stuck out a little so he was trying to push it back in to forget about it. Haha, maybe that's it.
Sorry dude, I like to eat. I had a burrito before you got here, maybe my tumtum has a little bloat going on. Deal.
Part 5: Drunk Girl
I've never seen this chick this drunk before. She was freaking out about losing something she didn't lose, she was walking around on the floor naked not to get guys to look but just because, she was practically making out with two different customers through the night. One that looked a tad like Santa Claus. Maybe she's trying to get on the nice list.
Then she got down from main stage before the song was even over and stood there with second almost make out partner and then walked and expected him to follow her into the dance room. I'm surprised she was able to walk.
Later she comes out of the dressing room in a sweater but no bottoms, I assume to get rid of the alcohol jumble in her stomach. She finally comes out and falls. Like face first falls onto the floor, ass in the air.
The guy at my rack laughs, well yeah. Almost Make Out Partner #2 tells him it's not funny, oh please. It kinda is. Maybe don't get so drunk you fall down. Maybe put some bottoms on.
FINALLY Part 6!
Last dance of the night. I get off main stage, I was the main dancer for the last set (this means nothing important at all, just setting the stage), talk to the guy that laughed at drunk girl falling and see guy from other rack heading toward atm. Figure he just wants a dance with whoever, stay out on main with only tiny bottoms on to see what he wants. All other dancers are dressed in real people clothes or giving a dance. He comes over and asks for a dance. YUSSS! I just needed that one more to make my bottom goal.
We go back in the back, he's reluctant to really talk. I finally stop and the new song starts. I'm doing my thing lalala, making eye contact, messing with my hair etc etc and he starts to move up, like to make out.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
I really wish other girls didn't make out with their customers. Seriously. I'm sorry I'm picky in real life about who I make out with, I'm NOT swapping spit with customers**.
Gross.
I'm sure all your mouths are clean but gross. By the way you try and simulate sex with me while I'm giving a dance I can tell we wouldn't work together smooching.
Alright, that's it for the night. I'm going to go be pissed about how the newest episode of Pretty Little Liars isn't uploaded on the website yet. (I don't have a tv and therefore can't watch it when it actually plays nor can I record it.)
-$D$
(Maybe if I surround my name with $ I'll make some)
*No actual hate on the real Neanderthals, their time and place was different.
** Okay, I dated a guy I had met at my club before, I made out with him. He was the last. I'm done dating customers. He never got a dance. Please don't hate too hard. We all get lonely and sometimes you guys seem cute and like decent guys. I make bad choices.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
First custie of the night
I sit down at the bar, turn in my I'd and ask for a diet coke. The bartender walks away and all of a sudden I hear "what are you drinking" right behind me. I'm startled because I have yet to get my game face on for loser custies and this one is screaming loser through his mannerisms. I tell him diet coke and he musters an "oh" then thinks of something else to ask. I wonder why he didn't sit first and then start talking, or ask my fucking name before my drink.
I stay quiet though it's obvious he wants to talk. I look at the televisions all playing their commercials silently. He asks when one of the other girls is coming up and I tell him I have no idea. He asks how long I've been working but everything this guy says seems like a demand. Little man syndrome I'm sure. He asked me why i don't tan and I said because I like my skin the way it is... He asks how good my dances are and instead of giving him the finger I say good. He tells me to rate it, I tell him it depends on the customer because everyone likes something a little different. He tells me I'm wrong and again demands a rating. I don't give him one and then the voice of Jesus (or the dj) tells me to go on stage. I think I'm free.
He come over before I've even finished giving the pole it's hand job and days "let's see what you got." I know this man, in real life, would he intimidated by a woman like me and probably is here too so I forgive him his rudeness and just smile.
I get a "nice body" a couple seconds in and then get a horrible look once the pierced nips came out. He then said "oh you like pain don't you..." not in a sexy way either. I shrugged and continued to move around the stage. He stood up but didn't leave so I told him I wasn't bringing out the whips and chains yet. He stood by the rack until the song was finished, told me I had a nice ass and then walked back to the other side of the bar.
And that was just the first customer...
I stay quiet though it's obvious he wants to talk. I look at the televisions all playing their commercials silently. He asks when one of the other girls is coming up and I tell him I have no idea. He asks how long I've been working but everything this guy says seems like a demand. Little man syndrome I'm sure. He asked me why i don't tan and I said because I like my skin the way it is... He asks how good my dances are and instead of giving him the finger I say good. He tells me to rate it, I tell him it depends on the customer because everyone likes something a little different. He tells me I'm wrong and again demands a rating. I don't give him one and then the voice of Jesus (or the dj) tells me to go on stage. I think I'm free.
He come over before I've even finished giving the pole it's hand job and days "let's see what you got." I know this man, in real life, would he intimidated by a woman like me and probably is here too so I forgive him his rudeness and just smile.
I get a "nice body" a couple seconds in and then get a horrible look once the pierced nips came out. He then said "oh you like pain don't you..." not in a sexy way either. I shrugged and continued to move around the stage. He stood up but didn't leave so I told him I wasn't bringing out the whips and chains yet. He stood by the rack until the song was finished, told me I had a nice ass and then walked back to the other side of the bar.
And that was just the first customer...
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Closing Time
Usually around closing time, when the stages are shut down and there are only lap dance songs left, the DJ likes to play some really annoying stuff. Stuff that makes the people at the bar staring blankly at the empty stages get the hell out, finish their drink or even forget their drink and leave.
It also makes the customers who were thinking of getting lap dances waver. Sure I want a lap dance but to a song about elephants? Hmmmm maybe not.
While the song may be funny there will be nothing sexy about being distracted by the lyrics or having the girl just laugh into your shoulder about what it's saying. (I've probably done something like that before... but hey, at least I didn't fall asleep on a guy's lap... yet)
That being said I think tonight I've found an even better way to clear the club after last stage is called.
Have a dude throw up on himself, his friend and the table in one fell swoop.
Yes, ladies and gents, this happened tonight.
I'm taking deep breaths as I write this so as not to start getting anxious. You see, I have a legitimate phobia of vomit. The act, the sound, the smell, all of it sets my mind on high alert and I feel the need to flee or curl up in a tiny ball humming and plugging my ears (if the sound continues). I wish I were joking or exaggerating. I am doing nothing of the sort.
Soooo, not only did I clear out from my conversation with the love of my life (okay exaggerating there... but he was really my ideal almost to the T besides the fact that I met him at my work) but everyone else in the club moved pretty fast toward the door, I think even leaving their drinks behind.
So there you have it, better method for clearing a strip club at final call... have some dude puke all over.
Now, as a final note I will say this does not work if a stripper pukes. This happened recently. The dancer was on stage and says she got heat stroke or something and became ill on stage. All customers at the rack stayed (I shit you not), one looked away but kept to his seat and kept his money up there and the other talked to her I think. Thankfully when this happened I saw none of it, just heard about it when the bartender for the night came up to tell the DJ.
So there you have it folks, to clear a strip club get a dude, not a dancer to toss those cookies and you'll be in the clear. (Just make sure you're not the one who has to clean it up.)
-D
p.s. Two posts in one week?!?! What the heck?!
It also makes the customers who were thinking of getting lap dances waver. Sure I want a lap dance but to a song about elephants? Hmmmm maybe not.
While the song may be funny there will be nothing sexy about being distracted by the lyrics or having the girl just laugh into your shoulder about what it's saying. (I've probably done something like that before... but hey, at least I didn't fall asleep on a guy's lap... yet)
That being said I think tonight I've found an even better way to clear the club after last stage is called.
Have a dude throw up on himself, his friend and the table in one fell swoop.
Yes, ladies and gents, this happened tonight.
I'm taking deep breaths as I write this so as not to start getting anxious. You see, I have a legitimate phobia of vomit. The act, the sound, the smell, all of it sets my mind on high alert and I feel the need to flee or curl up in a tiny ball humming and plugging my ears (if the sound continues). I wish I were joking or exaggerating. I am doing nothing of the sort.
Soooo, not only did I clear out from my conversation with the love of my life (okay exaggerating there... but he was really my ideal almost to the T besides the fact that I met him at my work) but everyone else in the club moved pretty fast toward the door, I think even leaving their drinks behind.
So there you have it, better method for clearing a strip club at final call... have some dude puke all over.
Now, as a final note I will say this does not work if a stripper pukes. This happened recently. The dancer was on stage and says she got heat stroke or something and became ill on stage. All customers at the rack stayed (I shit you not), one looked away but kept to his seat and kept his money up there and the other talked to her I think. Thankfully when this happened I saw none of it, just heard about it when the bartender for the night came up to tell the DJ.
So there you have it folks, to clear a strip club get a dude, not a dancer to toss those cookies and you'll be in the clear. (Just make sure you're not the one who has to clean it up.)
-D
p.s. Two posts in one week?!?! What the heck?!
Friday, July 8, 2011
99 Problems
Probably my favorite song at the moment. Yes, I have 99 problems I'm sure but a bitch sure ain't one. Kicked his ass to the curb a while back. Sometimes it gets lonely but overall life's been better.
This has nothing to do with stripping, except maybe that I get pumped for work listening to that song. So... moving on....
Tonight was a real doozy at work. First, let's just talk about how I didn't make SHIT and this girl made about $400. Yup, that much money... I wish.
So there was that, and one* of my favorite customers was suppose to come in and see me because I now RARELY work at the club I was at tonight, in fact, this might be the last night for a while. Maybe even a month. The summer isn't showing me any money and I'm not okay with that. I made more on a day at my other club than I made tonight. Irritating and I know I'm just getting better and better at what I do so that makes little sense.
Anyway, back to the real story. Soooo nights going eh, one girl's making bank and the rest of us are hating life but smiling anyway (like good little strippers) and the end of the night rolls around and this group of three rolls in. I notice them right away and wonder what they are up to.
Let's talk about race for a second here... now, I THOUGHT black guys in clubs were the ones who originated the "make it rain" idea. Well, in the clubs I work at the opposite is about the same. You can rely on a black man (with baggy pants, bling in his ears, etc) to come up to the stage, MAYBE put down a couple of dollars and ask for your number or to see you later. Seriously. I have yet to meet someone that fits the description and hasn't done just that. Don't get me wrong, there are black men that come into our club that spend some money but they don't waste their time putting on a front looking like they wish they just stepped out of a music video.
That being said, I get a tad weary when the aforemention baggy pant wearing, fat fake diamond earring sporting homie waddles (because of the sagging baggy pants) walks into the club. I wonder what kind of advances I'm going to have to laugh off and how little I'm going to get paid for that work, AND if it's even worth it to ask this cheap ass for a dance, because if he gets any, it will be one and it will be to find a way to ask me out.
Moving on, this group of three walk in and I immediately look at them and remember what they are wearing. One has shorts sagging below his ass with his red checkered boxers hanging out and a white wife beater on and a baseball cap, then there's his friend, a bigger dude wearing a white shirt and white beanie, then there's this chick in a large jacket/hoodie thing with the hood up looking hella odd.
I really notice this group when they come up to my rack. Well the woman does. She sits on the far corner, right by where I walk on (and put my stuff) and hangs out there. Her man in the white shirt comes up and talks to her and she looks irritated but leaves the stage for a second. Then she comes back the next song. She sits by the edge and her man sits in the middle. Odd.
I get off stage and she asks when auditions are. I tell her wondering why the fuck she would want to know, I mean we hire some not so great looking girls that can't dance for shit but she would be pushing it. I think nothing of it, leave the stage and go off to hope I can find someone at all to get a dance. That doesn't happen.
The last song of the night comes and goes and as the manager/DJ shuts the lights for the stages off my friend realizes her wallet is gone. Guess who was sitting at her stage last. Sketchy hooded woman and the other guys were on the other side...
We search the club for the wallet just in case, watch the videos lalala can't pinpoint exactly what happened but see as close as we can what happened. Two of three sketchies were around the scene of the crime.
We figure there's nothing we can do and leave, I drive a block and see two police cars and a guy sitting on the curb. Wanna guess who it is?
My friend thug boy baggy ass. I pulled over immediately and asked the group of people standing near what went on. They said he and his friends stole this chick's wallet. At first I didn't notice the tell-tale bright green ties of her bottoms peaking out of her pants, but then she started talking about everything she had made was gone and I put two and two together. We were right by another club. Yay Portland, a club on every block!
Whatever, a rant for another time...
I tell the police man what had happened at the club and that the guy sitting on the curb is on our cameras. He walks over to the other office and dear baggy pants and they arrest him. The girl immediately thanks me because I guess without the possibility of them on camera they weren't going to have anything to charge him with.
My good deed of the week. It wasn't even for that chick, it was for my friend back at my club. She doesn't deserve this and the trouble it's going to cause her. I'm glad I possibly helped out one (if not two because we learned later they hit up lucky devil also) other girl(s).
My manager came pulling in the plaid parking lot and talked to the cops which was nice. I could tell the cop didn't think much of me which I find funny because I could have given him a decent description of what the guy sitting on the curb when I pulled up was wearing even though I couldn't see him well from where I was at. My boss just added some credibility which is fine, I'm just glad the guy didn't get a chance to look at my expired plates (I hate the DMV btw).
So now, my extra commentary on this little event...
- What the fuck were these people doing wearing white into a mother fucking strip club they planned on getting money from?!?!?! We have a decent number of black lights all over the club... white glows mother fucker? Way to blend in.
- Another pointer in the "don't stick out" category... don't tell the bartender to remember your face for the next time you come in... Yes. baggy pants said just that. Don't worry dude, we remember your face, and your clothes, and your friends.
- One more... don't wear a ridiculous outfit and expect me not to remember it. Maybe don't sag your pants so far beyond your ass that's there's no use for them. In fact, don't do that even if you are looking to stand out. That shit is so stupid. Guys, really, if you are doing the penguin walk around town I'm not interested. If you have your pants below your ass, which is a main part of what they are suppose to cover, I'm not interested. I don't care how much money you claim to have... clearly you don't have normal reasoning skills because you can't seem to figure out your size or find where your waist/hips are. Not to mention, if you can't find basic body areas OR don't have sufficient brain power to realize your pants are WAY TO FUCKING BIG, you can't possibly have as much money as you seem to think you do... let's be real, belts aren't THAT expensive and you can't seem to get one of those.
- last but not least to this group in particular... don't go into a club where you will be the minority if you don't want to be noticed. Not only are most of the customers at my club white as fuck (some even rednecky) it is also mostly male. Yes I did have a chick at my stage when I first got there tonight but she was young and white and obviously bi if not lez. We notice when chicks come to our rack. We notice because we have to figure out how to act more so than when dudes come to our rack. So immediate you stand out and we're going to remember a couple of your traits.
Not good when you're doing something illegal.
Moral of the story. Get all of your stripper drunk and make sure they don't have a decent memory if you are likely to stand out in a crowd at the venue where you plan on stealing.
I want to take my heel and bash that ugly chick's face in for all the shit she's putting my friend through. I hope she goes to jail and talks shit to a woman bigger than her and gets her ass beat.
Seriously, of all people to steal from, you think a hustler would appreciate another one and leave them alone.
Apparently we were introduced to the low of the low. The parasites that attach to anyone. No matter if the person has a hustle like them or not.
So there's that.
xo
*please see that I said ONE of my favorite customers dearies. I love all my favorites equally)
This has nothing to do with stripping, except maybe that I get pumped for work listening to that song. So... moving on....
Tonight was a real doozy at work. First, let's just talk about how I didn't make SHIT and this girl made about $400. Yup, that much money... I wish.
So there was that, and one* of my favorite customers was suppose to come in and see me because I now RARELY work at the club I was at tonight, in fact, this might be the last night for a while. Maybe even a month. The summer isn't showing me any money and I'm not okay with that. I made more on a day at my other club than I made tonight. Irritating and I know I'm just getting better and better at what I do so that makes little sense.
Anyway, back to the real story. Soooo nights going eh, one girl's making bank and the rest of us are hating life but smiling anyway (like good little strippers) and the end of the night rolls around and this group of three rolls in. I notice them right away and wonder what they are up to.
Let's talk about race for a second here... now, I THOUGHT black guys in clubs were the ones who originated the "make it rain" idea. Well, in the clubs I work at the opposite is about the same. You can rely on a black man (with baggy pants, bling in his ears, etc) to come up to the stage, MAYBE put down a couple of dollars and ask for your number or to see you later. Seriously. I have yet to meet someone that fits the description and hasn't done just that. Don't get me wrong, there are black men that come into our club that spend some money but they don't waste their time putting on a front looking like they wish they just stepped out of a music video.
That being said, I get a tad weary when the aforemention baggy pant wearing, fat fake diamond earring sporting homie waddles (because of the sagging baggy pants) walks into the club. I wonder what kind of advances I'm going to have to laugh off and how little I'm going to get paid for that work, AND if it's even worth it to ask this cheap ass for a dance, because if he gets any, it will be one and it will be to find a way to ask me out.
Moving on, this group of three walk in and I immediately look at them and remember what they are wearing. One has shorts sagging below his ass with his red checkered boxers hanging out and a white wife beater on and a baseball cap, then there's his friend, a bigger dude wearing a white shirt and white beanie, then there's this chick in a large jacket/hoodie thing with the hood up looking hella odd.
I really notice this group when they come up to my rack. Well the woman does. She sits on the far corner, right by where I walk on (and put my stuff) and hangs out there. Her man in the white shirt comes up and talks to her and she looks irritated but leaves the stage for a second. Then she comes back the next song. She sits by the edge and her man sits in the middle. Odd.
I get off stage and she asks when auditions are. I tell her wondering why the fuck she would want to know, I mean we hire some not so great looking girls that can't dance for shit but she would be pushing it. I think nothing of it, leave the stage and go off to hope I can find someone at all to get a dance. That doesn't happen.
The last song of the night comes and goes and as the manager/DJ shuts the lights for the stages off my friend realizes her wallet is gone. Guess who was sitting at her stage last. Sketchy hooded woman and the other guys were on the other side...
We search the club for the wallet just in case, watch the videos lalala can't pinpoint exactly what happened but see as close as we can what happened. Two of three sketchies were around the scene of the crime.
We figure there's nothing we can do and leave, I drive a block and see two police cars and a guy sitting on the curb. Wanna guess who it is?
My friend thug boy baggy ass. I pulled over immediately and asked the group of people standing near what went on. They said he and his friends stole this chick's wallet. At first I didn't notice the tell-tale bright green ties of her bottoms peaking out of her pants, but then she started talking about everything she had made was gone and I put two and two together. We were right by another club. Yay Portland, a club on every block!
Whatever, a rant for another time...
I tell the police man what had happened at the club and that the guy sitting on the curb is on our cameras. He walks over to the other office and dear baggy pants and they arrest him. The girl immediately thanks me because I guess without the possibility of them on camera they weren't going to have anything to charge him with.
My good deed of the week. It wasn't even for that chick, it was for my friend back at my club. She doesn't deserve this and the trouble it's going to cause her. I'm glad I possibly helped out one (if not two because we learned later they hit up lucky devil also) other girl(s).
My manager came pulling in the plaid parking lot and talked to the cops which was nice. I could tell the cop didn't think much of me which I find funny because I could have given him a decent description of what the guy sitting on the curb when I pulled up was wearing even though I couldn't see him well from where I was at. My boss just added some credibility which is fine, I'm just glad the guy didn't get a chance to look at my expired plates (I hate the DMV btw).
So now, my extra commentary on this little event...
- What the fuck were these people doing wearing white into a mother fucking strip club they planned on getting money from?!?!?! We have a decent number of black lights all over the club... white glows mother fucker? Way to blend in.
- Another pointer in the "don't stick out" category... don't tell the bartender to remember your face for the next time you come in... Yes. baggy pants said just that. Don't worry dude, we remember your face, and your clothes, and your friends.
- One more... don't wear a ridiculous outfit and expect me not to remember it. Maybe don't sag your pants so far beyond your ass that's there's no use for them. In fact, don't do that even if you are looking to stand out. That shit is so stupid. Guys, really, if you are doing the penguin walk around town I'm not interested. If you have your pants below your ass, which is a main part of what they are suppose to cover, I'm not interested. I don't care how much money you claim to have... clearly you don't have normal reasoning skills because you can't seem to figure out your size or find where your waist/hips are. Not to mention, if you can't find basic body areas OR don't have sufficient brain power to realize your pants are WAY TO FUCKING BIG, you can't possibly have as much money as you seem to think you do... let's be real, belts aren't THAT expensive and you can't seem to get one of those.
- last but not least to this group in particular... don't go into a club where you will be the minority if you don't want to be noticed. Not only are most of the customers at my club white as fuck (some even rednecky) it is also mostly male. Yes I did have a chick at my stage when I first got there tonight but she was young and white and obviously bi if not lez. We notice when chicks come to our rack. We notice because we have to figure out how to act more so than when dudes come to our rack. So immediate you stand out and we're going to remember a couple of your traits.
Not good when you're doing something illegal.
Moral of the story. Get all of your stripper drunk and make sure they don't have a decent memory if you are likely to stand out in a crowd at the venue where you plan on stealing.
I want to take my heel and bash that ugly chick's face in for all the shit she's putting my friend through. I hope she goes to jail and talks shit to a woman bigger than her and gets her ass beat.
Seriously, of all people to steal from, you think a hustler would appreciate another one and leave them alone.
Apparently we were introduced to the low of the low. The parasites that attach to anyone. No matter if the person has a hustle like them or not.
So there's that.
xo
*please see that I said ONE of my favorite customers dearies. I love all my favorites equally)
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Rant: Tragic Toe Steppers
I'm going to start this out by saying tonight was a good night. I'm then going into my rant about this one busted chick that stepped on some toes (mine, metaphorically speaking) and somehow got away without any harm.
Back story on this girl I know dub Tragedy. First night I worked with her she came in late, her stomach is all fucked, maybe from a baby she no longer has or she use to be over weight and lost the fat but kept the skin, I think it's baby but she definitely doesn't have the kid now so who knows. That night she got drunk (not unusual) and at the end of the night I went to give a customer a last dance and I see her face down on a guy's lap. Surprisingly it's not what you are thinking. He face was by his knees and he was just sitting there smiling at me when I would look over to see if she was moving. She passed out on this guy's lap. I wish I was joking.
Second night she comes in an hour late. By this point I'm wondering how she still gets to work. This new set of clubs I am at has been rumored to be very strict about being on time. Maybe she was charged $100 and it was counted as a first offense, I am not sure. Point is, she came in an hour late (maybe 30 minutes but it felt like I had been there for quite some time) and looked incredibly haggard and like she had been crying. I went into mom mode (weakness) and asked her what was wrong. I immediately (before she even opened her mouth to tell me) regretted it. These two clubs, while a tad more strict do see a lot of sad, wrecked, tragic cases come through and sometimes I forget that. So she mumbles about having a shitty boyfriend and why does she keep someone around that treats her like shit and lalala he stole all her money blah blah blah. Great, that's what I wanted to hear. Another sob story. Another bad egg that makes the rest of us seem like we have daddy issues or shitty boyfriends or drug problems. I know that there are a good few of us who do, but there are also a good few not strippers that also have those problems. I am free and clear of all said issues thank you very much and I don't appreciate these cliché cases making it harder to convince people I'm not a fucking psycho.
Through the second night she is late to her stages, gets fucked up and just annoys me but I don't have to pay too much attention because on that night we were at the larger club and so there was more space to forget.
Third night, tonight. I get to work 10 minutes before my scheduled time thinking I am a burden on others because I am not ready early. I ask the DJ how many girls we are suppose to have on this fine night and he tells me 5 + one that stays until 12, but at the moment we are at 3 + said extra girl. Awesome. I look at him and ask, "Is Tragedy one of those girls?" Again, her name isn't Tragedy though it may as well be, but I've changed it for her stupid safety. He almost seems surprised when I guess right and inform him not to hold his breath because she's always late. He says she might be fired if she doesn't show up before 15 after. I do a stage set, make a friend I think, go in the back and see that Tragedy (and the other girl) finally made it. She hadn't walked in by the 15 mark so I was wondering what was going to come next. Other late girl got off with a warning, then the DJ attempted to send Tragedy home. The water started pouring down the craters in her face. Somehow, by a miracle that only befalls the pathetic, boss man (not DJ, boss man on the phone) decides she can stay. She cries about not having money to stay in her hotel that night and blah blah blah not my or the club's problem, what about the money you made the other night and/or the money your boyfriend stole from you, not to mention, once again, not my problem.
I leave the dressing room at this point devoid of empathy or even pity. The night goes on and as she is the one following me she manages to get to her stage late every. single. time. Look bitch, as if you being horrendous isn't bad enough, please get your ass in gear and make it to your stage on time. I shouldn't have to babysit the customers for you crater face.
The night goes on some more and we are getting to the last 4 songs that are strictly for lap dances. I'm talking to this guy that has been getting dances from me all night and Pathetic Tragedy (now she has two names) comes over (while I'm sitting with him) whispers in his ear and pulls him away. WHAT BITCH?! I wish I could say at this point that I
a) looked at her and said, "Back off bitch. It's not my problem that you need this lap dance money for your boyfriend's almost certain heroin problem or even your own. I don't give a fuck about how much it cost to stick a needle in your arm or stay at the shittiest hotel in town, step the fuck off or your boyfriend is not the only one that is going to be beating you tonight."
b) walked into the back during their second dance to tell her it was my turn just like he told me to do as he was walking away. Not for his satisfaction, mind you, but for mine.
Instead I glared viciously, lamented to my favorite bouncer/cook with some very choice words and then walked by the doorway of the dance room once and decided it wasn't worth it and went to the back to change into my home clothes.
I was very, very tempted to say some rude comment later, or tell her it was not alright to pull what she did but I legitimately love where I work right now and don't need a reason to be fired. Especially on someone as wrecked as she. Truth be told, he antics will have her gone with or without me and while I would have loved to add another $40 to my money tonight (or any night) I was not about to get on her level OR play into a chick fighting chick fantasy. Sorry dude, you're dick isn't that worth it to me. I will play into a dumb girl fantasy, a bi girl fantasy, a nerdy girl or even a party girl fantasy (the last one is a tad harder to pull off but not completely) but I will NOT compete with another girl for your attention or money, at least not that you know of. I'm fucking awesome, I give a stellar dance and I look a million times better than she does bouncing naked on your lap or grinding my ass against your clothed dick. Truth. Just about anyone in that club would agree with me. Those who wouldn't are legitimately blind.
Phew. I think I feel better now. I still want to smash that ugly face in but I'm going to wait it out. If she works again she's going to have some issues.
<3
Back story on this girl I know dub Tragedy. First night I worked with her she came in late, her stomach is all fucked, maybe from a baby she no longer has or she use to be over weight and lost the fat but kept the skin, I think it's baby but she definitely doesn't have the kid now so who knows. That night she got drunk (not unusual) and at the end of the night I went to give a customer a last dance and I see her face down on a guy's lap. Surprisingly it's not what you are thinking. He face was by his knees and he was just sitting there smiling at me when I would look over to see if she was moving. She passed out on this guy's lap. I wish I was joking.
Second night she comes in an hour late. By this point I'm wondering how she still gets to work. This new set of clubs I am at has been rumored to be very strict about being on time. Maybe she was charged $100 and it was counted as a first offense, I am not sure. Point is, she came in an hour late (maybe 30 minutes but it felt like I had been there for quite some time) and looked incredibly haggard and like she had been crying. I went into mom mode (weakness) and asked her what was wrong. I immediately (before she even opened her mouth to tell me) regretted it. These two clubs, while a tad more strict do see a lot of sad, wrecked, tragic cases come through and sometimes I forget that. So she mumbles about having a shitty boyfriend and why does she keep someone around that treats her like shit and lalala he stole all her money blah blah blah. Great, that's what I wanted to hear. Another sob story. Another bad egg that makes the rest of us seem like we have daddy issues or shitty boyfriends or drug problems. I know that there are a good few of us who do, but there are also a good few not strippers that also have those problems. I am free and clear of all said issues thank you very much and I don't appreciate these cliché cases making it harder to convince people I'm not a fucking psycho.
Through the second night she is late to her stages, gets fucked up and just annoys me but I don't have to pay too much attention because on that night we were at the larger club and so there was more space to forget.
Third night, tonight. I get to work 10 minutes before my scheduled time thinking I am a burden on others because I am not ready early. I ask the DJ how many girls we are suppose to have on this fine night and he tells me 5 + one that stays until 12, but at the moment we are at 3 + said extra girl. Awesome. I look at him and ask, "Is Tragedy one of those girls?" Again, her name isn't Tragedy though it may as well be, but I've changed it for her stupid safety. He almost seems surprised when I guess right and inform him not to hold his breath because she's always late. He says she might be fired if she doesn't show up before 15 after. I do a stage set, make a friend I think, go in the back and see that Tragedy (and the other girl) finally made it. She hadn't walked in by the 15 mark so I was wondering what was going to come next. Other late girl got off with a warning, then the DJ attempted to send Tragedy home. The water started pouring down the craters in her face. Somehow, by a miracle that only befalls the pathetic, boss man (not DJ, boss man on the phone) decides she can stay. She cries about not having money to stay in her hotel that night and blah blah blah not my or the club's problem, what about the money you made the other night and/or the money your boyfriend stole from you, not to mention, once again, not my problem.
I leave the dressing room at this point devoid of empathy or even pity. The night goes on and as she is the one following me she manages to get to her stage late every. single. time. Look bitch, as if you being horrendous isn't bad enough, please get your ass in gear and make it to your stage on time. I shouldn't have to babysit the customers for you crater face.
The night goes on some more and we are getting to the last 4 songs that are strictly for lap dances. I'm talking to this guy that has been getting dances from me all night and Pathetic Tragedy (now she has two names) comes over (while I'm sitting with him) whispers in his ear and pulls him away. WHAT BITCH?! I wish I could say at this point that I
a) looked at her and said, "Back off bitch. It's not my problem that you need this lap dance money for your boyfriend's almost certain heroin problem or even your own. I don't give a fuck about how much it cost to stick a needle in your arm or stay at the shittiest hotel in town, step the fuck off or your boyfriend is not the only one that is going to be beating you tonight."
b) walked into the back during their second dance to tell her it was my turn just like he told me to do as he was walking away. Not for his satisfaction, mind you, but for mine.
Instead I glared viciously, lamented to my favorite bouncer/cook with some very choice words and then walked by the doorway of the dance room once and decided it wasn't worth it and went to the back to change into my home clothes.
I was very, very tempted to say some rude comment later, or tell her it was not alright to pull what she did but I legitimately love where I work right now and don't need a reason to be fired. Especially on someone as wrecked as she. Truth be told, he antics will have her gone with or without me and while I would have loved to add another $40 to my money tonight (or any night) I was not about to get on her level OR play into a chick fighting chick fantasy. Sorry dude, you're dick isn't that worth it to me. I will play into a dumb girl fantasy, a bi girl fantasy, a nerdy girl or even a party girl fantasy (the last one is a tad harder to pull off but not completely) but I will NOT compete with another girl for your attention or money, at least not that you know of. I'm fucking awesome, I give a stellar dance and I look a million times better than she does bouncing naked on your lap or grinding my ass against your clothed dick. Truth. Just about anyone in that club would agree with me. Those who wouldn't are legitimately blind.
Phew. I think I feel better now. I still want to smash that ugly face in but I'm going to wait it out. If she works again she's going to have some issues.
<3
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Per Request: Why I do it...
It has been brought to my attention that I do complain a lot here, (and sometimes elsewhere) and I guess I should explain myself a bit.
I started this blog to tell crazy tales that actually happen where I work. Sometimes these things hit me in a negative way and sometimes they are positive. I feel like I'm a lot like The Angry Stripper in that some of the things customers say and do just blow my mind. So I post them. My twitter is usually a lot of shit talking as well. Sometimes it's what a girl needs to get through the bs that comes with the job.
If there is so much bs (and there is) why do you do it?
Well, there are several reasons. One, while I am not happy with what I am earning it is usually more than I can make in an entry position that I would be hired for. I have my BA and still my possible income starting out is going to be low. I would have to struggle a lot in a job I didn't like sitting at a desk feeling like poop a majority of the time.
I have yet to decide what I want to be doing that would justify a desk job. In my current industry I pick my hours, pick how many days I want to work and have the potential to make decent cash in little time. Unfortunately that is not what is happening to me at this moment. I am picking my own schedule, I do get to enjoy the days, but I am not making nearly as much as I would like to (and believe me my bar is low for typical strippers).
So why do you do it?
The potential has me coming back for more. I feel like I'm working out my kinks (no pun intended) as a performer and personal entertainer (because seriously that's what we do, we personally entertain a custie and that is what makes us money). My stage show is getting better and better, I am learning more tricks, I am listening more than talking and I'm not going to lie, my lap dance is better than ever.
I am starting to really pay attention to what people want instead of trying to force what I want on them or expecting a grand before I even finish cleaning the pole. (always clean the pole btw)
I have a couple more venues to try, a little more work to do, a little more money to save and a couple more decisions to make.
Not to mention, while some custies are douche bags, there are a good few that are really fun to talk to and have great stories. I'm a people person, I love a good personal story.
I hope that helps anyone who I have confused.
Ask more questions!!!
xo
I started this blog to tell crazy tales that actually happen where I work. Sometimes these things hit me in a negative way and sometimes they are positive. I feel like I'm a lot like The Angry Stripper in that some of the things customers say and do just blow my mind. So I post them. My twitter is usually a lot of shit talking as well. Sometimes it's what a girl needs to get through the bs that comes with the job.
If there is so much bs (and there is) why do you do it?
Well, there are several reasons. One, while I am not happy with what I am earning it is usually more than I can make in an entry position that I would be hired for. I have my BA and still my possible income starting out is going to be low. I would have to struggle a lot in a job I didn't like sitting at a desk feeling like poop a majority of the time.
I have yet to decide what I want to be doing that would justify a desk job. In my current industry I pick my hours, pick how many days I want to work and have the potential to make decent cash in little time. Unfortunately that is not what is happening to me at this moment. I am picking my own schedule, I do get to enjoy the days, but I am not making nearly as much as I would like to (and believe me my bar is low for typical strippers).
So why do you do it?
The potential has me coming back for more. I feel like I'm working out my kinks (no pun intended) as a performer and personal entertainer (because seriously that's what we do, we personally entertain a custie and that is what makes us money). My stage show is getting better and better, I am learning more tricks, I am listening more than talking and I'm not going to lie, my lap dance is better than ever.
I am starting to really pay attention to what people want instead of trying to force what I want on them or expecting a grand before I even finish cleaning the pole. (always clean the pole btw)
I have a couple more venues to try, a little more work to do, a little more money to save and a couple more decisions to make.
Not to mention, while some custies are douche bags, there are a good few that are really fun to talk to and have great stories. I'm a people person, I love a good personal story.
I hope that helps anyone who I have confused.
Ask more questions!!!
xo
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