Monday, November 25, 2013

Short shifts

I think I only worked 6 hours over the weekend.  Hate me more, hard workers.

I haven't been very motivated to work late.  I think getting back on the college carb and caffeine diet makes it harder to stay awake on those long work nights with just one can of red bull.  I won't drink two cans.  I already feel like death after drinking one.  I wish my club would serve iced coffee.  They need an espresso machine.  I bet so many girls would be happier doing espresso shots instead of drinking red bull all night.

Anyway, I think all the customers that I saw this weekend were saving their money for turkey.  I can't say I blame them, because that's my motive.  So their lack of spending made it harder to make money, so I decided to not exhaust myself by staying all night.  I was pretty tired both nights.

I'd like to wish everyone a happy thanksgiving, an abundance of your favorite food, killer black Friday deals so good you'll have enough cash left over to buy some lap dances on Saturday.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Can never run out of firsts nor broken records

First for me tonight: Some dude insulted my face.  As I'm walking from my vehicle to the club entrance, a young-ish guy who was smoking said he liked my pants.  

And I was just a little sweetie by smiling and saying thank you.

But he had to ruin it and say, "Yeah, they're not like your face."

I couldn't have handled it better: just kept walking.  How do you respond to that?!  YOU DON'T.  "Fuck off, loser," is not even worth the breath nor the attention.  Dissing is so desperate.

Not my favorite way to start the night.  The club was fairly busy tonight.

Broken records: got a sweatpants boner man customer.  It's always THEM that ask me for a dance. Just, old, ugly and gross.  They really are "low-ballers."  I lol'ed when he said, "yeah let's do another song, I really wanna release this time."  Fucking cheap perverts don't motivate me to make them cum with their awful haggling.

A lot of people complimented my ass.  Apparently my secret blend of carbs and exercise keep it firm yet full and the "nice ass" record broken.

Another broken record is the stinkiness.  Some dude I apparently ambushed upon his strip club arrival  (couldn't just be a coincidence I was the first girl to talk to him) had the nastiest breath and wouldn't stop talking and trying to put his sweaty hands on my ass.  Now that I write this, I realize he was part of the drunk crowd who probably had a shit load of drinks and blow.  No WONDER he was so annoying!  Ok, story's over, you know what ends up happening.  I get fed up with their stupid, time-wasting chatter and bug for a dance in a negative way so he says no and I can seamlessly get the fuck away from him.  Just, ew, ew, ew.

Aside from all that bullshit, the money made it worth it, so it's no worries.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Wide spectrum

Tonight wasn't too bad.  I danced for a lot of guys, and they can be classified as "guys I loved dancing for" and "guys I hated dancing for," but not many guys in between.

If there are any men reading this who like lap dances, a bit of advice, and it may not apply to you, but some of these men that come to the club do NOT know how to touch a woman by any stretch of the imagination... My poor titties...

DO NOT HONK MY TITS WTF YOU FUCKING PIG!  Quit squeezing them like they are made of pizza dough... That is what my butt cheeks are for, not HITTING.  I hate guys that slap my ass and actually think I like it.  I wish I could return ass slaps with face punches.

On the bright side, there were a few guys who were handsome, perfect gentlemen and tipped generously.  Only when I get these guys I think to myself, "Ah, I love my job," especially when they're guys that can obviously get laid for free if they just went to a normal bar.

I hope tomorrow goes better.  Less rapey guys would be nice, lap dance gods, and more of those generous handsome guys that don't try to cross the line.

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Aren't you worried about stalkers?

Whenever I talk to "outsiders" they ask me this whenever I tell them what my night job is.  By outsiders, I mean people outside the strip club industry.

My answer is, "well duh!"

There are several controls that can be implemented in every stripper's trek home after a long night of leading on horny men.

1. Dancers get walked to their rides when they exit the club.  Side note for dancers reading this: if your club does not provide this service QUIT WORKING THERE AND FIND A CLUB THAT DOES.  Bitches get robbed and kidnapped without this control set in place.

2. If you drive home after midnight, it's relatively easy to spot someone following you home.  Even in crowded cities, the roads clear up after midnight.  So dancers, keeping your eyes peeled and having your cell phone handy solves the stalker problem.  Make a detour to the police station if you don't feel safe.  Don't stop any place that requires you to get out of the car.  Don't get gas or cigarettes, but drive-thru munchies are alright.

3. Whenever I talk to customers, to build rapport we sometimes ask each other little small talk questions and share a little personal info.  Whenever someone asks me where I LIVE, I do not answer truthfully.  I say I live somewhere that will send any stalker on a wild goose chase.  NO customer needs that info, so they'll never get it.  It's critical to personal safety to exercise extreme caution whenever someone wants you to talk about yourself.  

Those are the main controls I implement.  There are several more but I won't disclose that on the stalker-subscribed Internet. 

Goodnight y'all! 

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Everyone is trying to fuck me

Good god, what a strange night.

Ass hole tried to rip me off, couple snuck pictures of my ass with no permission, and I got propositioned by like every guy I danced for tonight.

I almost want to work at some other club.  Maybe I need a change.  I don't want to change, I'm comfortable, but I'm just not excited about stripping sometimes.

Lucky me working two nights a week allows me to miss it during the week, so the energy makes up for my "checked-out" attitude.  And sometimes I just enjoy my job, and I am a happy stripper.

Despite all the bullshit, because there was a lot, and I'll spare you some tonight.  I got that extra hour and I used it up.  I got to work late and make money til the end.  Fuck yeah.

Now the sun is up.  Before 7.  Later, DST.  See ya next spring.

Lately I've been scoring high on my academics, and that makes me happier than stripping.  Yay real life!

Another thought: there was a lot of bitching in the dressing room tonight.  Like, more than usual.  Go figure, it's rent week.

Goodnight, have a lovely day.