Monday, July 22, 2013

What is wrong with me?

I'm just now getting around to writing about Saturday night.  I got some explaining to do.

Bad stripper, bad blogger, right here, ladies and gentlemen.  Let me tell you why.

On Saturday night, I showed up late.  Unbelievably late, like I missed half my shift being a fat, lazy fuck.  My roommate is a bad influence.  We got a deep fryer.  I'm from the south.  I HAD to have some fish fry and REAL onion rings before work and it took a lot longer to do than I expected.

So coming in late, that was mistake number one.  Since I had a tummy full of deep fried guilt, I refrained from having my usual Red Bull because I was afraid that would cause an upset stomach.  Red Bull already gives me an upset stomach by itself.  But with nothing to jack me up, I got really bored really quickly with the people in my club.

The crowd was about half of what it should be for a Saturday night, and the guys that were there were a bunch of non-spending "regulars" that I hate seeing.  They don't even deserve the name "regulars" in my opinion.  They are just returning trolls.  Completely useless if they're not spending on me or my co-workers.

One of them is a younger, decent looking dude (still a loser) so I picked him to bitch at, because I was getting bored trying to hustle.  So I talked shit with him for about a song, unloading my negativity on him about this other guy who gives the world's shittiest back massage and wasted a lot of my time when I tried to hustle him.  Then I realized what I was doing wasn't going to make me any money, so I figured I'd just take my break early, after only being there for about an hour.

I asked if I could go on break, and I usually pay my house fee when I do this so that I don't rip them off in case I don't come back.  Very rarely do I actually stay home.  But this time I did.  And I didn't pay my house.  Another stripper mistake.  Bad stripper!

So I did not make use of a potentially good Satruday because I was being a lazy, bad stripper.  I should have went back to work instead of passing out on my couch.  I should have pushed through my tired, burned-out attitude, and I should have drank that stupid Red Bull.

I get a D for performance.  I would have given myself an F if I didn't make what I did during that hour I was there.  I could have done a lot better, but I didn't, all because of my "fuck this shit" attitude.

I remember taking a math class back in college.  The professor said the way to be successful in his class was to attend class and office hours, do the assignments, and have a good attitude.

I underlined that because it's probably the most important suggestion.  I saw a lot of people fail even though they had the brains and the time to learn the material, but they hated math, so they still got bad grades.

And I'm going on vacation next week.  To escape more strip club hell, to repair my soul, and to empty my wallet.  I doubt I'm gonna go in during the week to make some spending cash because it's the summer and I don't like being in a club swimming with sharks with nothing but shrimp to feast on.  I still have time to shake my "fuck it" attitude, so I might work the few days before I leave because reality will eventually hit me.  It always does.

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Winners and losers

Last night the club had a combination of winners and losers.  I ran into more losers than I did winners.

Luckily I only needed to meet one winner to make up for the bullshit I got from the losers.

Some guy short-changed me five dollars for a few dances, and he STILL had the nerve to ask me to meet him outside the club (OTC).  Lately I haven't been getting creepy invites to meet OTC.  Tonight that was my only one, from (you guessed it) the biggest loser.

"Any chance of you meeting me outside of here?" dumb fuck asked me trying to act all slick.

"No, dude, you didn't even tip me, let alone pay in full," I said, then turned away to move on to better customers.

I should have told him to keep the ones he paid me with and dragged him to the ATM.  I'm too nice.

Should have, would have, could have.

There were also a lot of pervs not tipping on stage.  That's always annoying, especially when it's a bunch of guys that showed up together.  Don't tell me to back it up and do all this shit when you and all your little wanker friends don't have any money out.  Learn to motivate a bitch!

I almost called this one older brown man "Mr. Tightpockets" because he kept staring at my naked ass while I was on stage, clearly enjoying the view.  He even watched his friend tip me, and didn't tip when I stretched out my garter for his money.  It takes a certain kind of stingy to not tip a stripper that demands a dollar, especially if she is actually dancing.  I can understand the drugged-out train wreck that bounces for one second not deserving the tip, but come on.  I put enough style and finesse into my moves that get a man's mojo going.  I'm DOING my job, dammit.  I deserve to get paid handsomely.

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Running out of ideas

Does that mean I should work at the titty club more?

If any of you have read long enough, y'all might know that working too much has its downfalls.  Making more money really only makes up for those downfalls to a certain extent.  

It's psychologically draining.  I can only deal with the conversations so often.  I can only put up with the uninvited ass grabs for so long before I starting growling and hissing at my potential customers like a stray cat that just made a kill.  God... Sometimes I want to go all feral on some of these guys.  

Photobucket Pictures, Images and Photos

Don't touch me, douche bag!

It's also physically demanding to work too often.  All that hip gyration takes a toll on certain hip muscles.  Thank goodness my workout program has helped spring those muscles back.  I'm sure I could get past the physical problems.  It's not just hip problems.  My poor feet and those brutal spike shoes. 

I can't wait for school.  I love school.  I love getting A's.  

Crap, I just remembered that last weekend I gave a lap dance to a guy who said he was taking the same major as me.  Fabulous.  This really makes me want to strip outside of town, like a lot of dancers do.  But I'd like to spearhead the movement of "not awkward moments" if someone from my class recognizes me when I'm at school.  

If it happens, I'm prepared to not feel ashamed, look the guy dead in the eyes and say, "So when are you coming back to the club?  Got another buddy getting married yet?"

Anything to relieve tension... And to save my future career.  It's so hard to be taken seriously when people know I strip.  Saying that makes me want to quit, but I really do enjoy my job when I'm not burned out.  I enjoy making that fast cash in such a fun way.  

I could be a cubicle slave making $11 an hour if I'm lucky.  Or waitressing.  I hear about waitresses getting turned out by pimps more than I hear about strippers getting turned out.  They also work harder for less money, most of the time.  

I think stripping is the job for me, while I'm young.  I can't do this forever, we all know that.  But I feel that I've got the balls and the body to do it and I shouldn't be punished career-wise because of it.  

Monday, July 15, 2013

Sleeping at night

I used to think it was so hard to do, especially after working all night over the weekend.

Last night I slept like a normal person: at night.  It was great!  I don't feel all mental now.

Now to do some car shopping.  I totally sold my bike that almost got stolen.  Nothing more unsettling than the feeling that your shit may get jacked while you're sleeping... Or working like in my case.

I put that damn bike up on Craigslist priced to sell, got a call the next day, sold it the day after that.

Now I need a car.  I'm done with bikes.  I had a fun run, but I live in a city where traffic would have eventually ended my life.  Next time I get a motorcycle is when I'm old and about to retire.  My crotch rocket days are over.

It's crazy that I had a motorcycle for this long.  It was totally bad for my job.  What if some ass hole ran a red light or a stop sign and I got hurt?  I wouldn't be able to dance with road rash, broken bones, or no head.  Yeah, scary thought, I know.

Now I can comfortably sleep at night.

Saturday, July 13, 2013

Playing my game

I came to work late tonight.  It's good I didn't come in later, because it was really good the first hour.  There were at least three young, nice looking men that wanted a dance with me after I got off stage.

Decisions, decisions.  Who do I pick first, and who do I make wait?

The first guy I picked was the most attractive, and he seemed like the most definite yes, and the most fun to dance for.  He only got one song, but tipped well and didn't give me any bullshit so I was happy I danced for him first.

My boss caught me before I could get to the next guy and made me go back on stage again.

The next guy I danced for (#2) was also a pretty easy sell, since he was staring me down while I was back on stage, and he was tipping better than everyone else.  And he was also really attractive.

The third guy was kind of a douche during my first round of stage, so I figured I'd "keep getting intercepted" so he had to wait forever for a lap dance.

"Hey, sexy, how much is a dance with you?" guy #3 asked.


He seemed surprised.  "You gotta sell it, then.  I need you to convince me."

I did not feel like being a saleswoman.  I was so spoiled from the other people I didn't have to convince.  At that point, he either wants one or he doesn't.

"You get this beautiful ass grinding on your lap, baby.  Isn't that what you want?"

"Yeah, come see me when you get off."

"I already got off."

See what I did there?!

That was the conversation we had during my first stage set.  The next set, after I danced for #1, #3 was obviously waiting for me and looked surprised to see me back on stage.

"I've been waiting for you to come see me, I thought we had something going on, like a connection.

OMG you loser!

"No, baby, I just want your money," I said as I tilted my head.

"Well I've got money, honey."

I took off and collected singles from all the other stage mongers til my set finished then I walked off for two songs with guy #2, hoping it would horribly tease #3.  He was the douchiest of them all, so I delighted in making him wait.  I was enjoying playing my game.

Eventually I gave guy #3 a dance, and of course he had to ask me my favorite question, "wanna go with me to my hotel room?"


"Sorry, babe, I can't.  It's against the rules."

I took the money and walked away once the song finished.  The douches are so easy to walk away from.

In other news, this drunk girl was tipping me, but she wanted me to camp in front of her the whole time I was on stage.  I got other dudes to collect from, ugh.  But it wasn't so bad looking like a total lesbian playing with the girl's boobs.  That was a show, too.  The guys were diggin it.

The night got pretty slow pretty quick.  At 3:45, it was almost cleared out, which doesn't usually happen until 4:45.  And I wasn't done making money.  It took me so long to get one last dance to hit my minimum goal.

Fuck summer.  Ugh.  Even the boss lady was saying its been pretty dead.  I wonder how tomorrow night will be.