February 2012
16 posts
Petting My Peeve
Do you have a pet peeve? I do. It’s men telling me to smile. I say men because I’ve never witnessed firsthand, nor even so much as heard word of some distant land where women command men that they don’t know to “smile!” for no reason.
I smile more than the average person. I smile so much that it’s not even voluntary. All night, customers compliment me on my smile and my teeth and I think, “I’m...
New State, New Slow Night
When I get back, I’m paying my taxes, getting an eye exam, new frames and contacts, an iPhone, a deep tissue massage, some personal training sessions, Final Draft, and paying a $175 ticket for riding the max with no fare. I’ve also been looking at tiny houses, “gypsy vans,” trailers, and RV’s. But those are really just to keep me going. I also like to browse Craigslist apartment listings in other...
Night 2: New Friends, Baked Goods, Lost Spank Bank...
The dancers have already bonded enough to share cock pics. The more hippie-ish of the sweet Midwestern girls (let’s call her Cass) showed us a cock pic that she thought was “really creative.” It was just the head of the penis from a balls-eye view with his head in the background. It had the effect of looking like his cock had popped up and photobombed his face.
In the dressing room, I sit next to...
Kat 2/20-2/25/12
I haven’t worked in a topless club since that time I danced in Indianapolis and I flashed a customer because I was drunk and didn’t see what the big deal was and some bitch who had been letting a guy grope her ratted me out. I hope she’s still in Indianapolis… as opposed to in the middle of nowhere dancing for roughnecks. Anyhoo, the wonderful thing about topless clubs is that you don’t have to...
Saturday Night: Out On Bail
As if someone had cast actors to play the annoying hunting party’s younger selves, a group of twenty-something guys made sure that I would hear the term “brown eye” two shifts in a row. Their resemblance to the peanut gallery from the night before was so perfect that I just had to laugh. And complain. The girl who had told the other men that they weren’t gentlemen agreed. What should I call her?...
Friday Night
Bubbles and I went spray tanning before work on Friday night. This was the first time I’ve had a nice lady spray me down instead of a machine. She didn’t ask any questions when I made her spray in between my butt cheeks so I wouldn’t have that white buttcrack giveaway thing.
We arrived at work in loose clothing with our bodies looking look we came from the Bahamas and our faces looking like we...
Settling In
Today we drove five hours and it was a drive that reminded me that there are still parts of the country that aren’t all strip malls and Walmarts because they aren’t anything. It’s nice to look at miles of nothing, just like it’s nice to savor the silence after a night of loud music. We stopped at Walmart as soon as we got into town… because that’s what there is in the way of grocery shopping. When...
Obligatory Slow Night
Last night was slow. The cool thing about this club is that they won’t make the girls go on stage unless there are enough guys and they’re tipping well. One of the small handful of customers waiting for enough other guys to show up was an older western shirt type who had his own little official sign letting people know he was outside smoking and would return. I wish I had inspected it closely so...
First Impressions
Last night was my first night at the club out here where I happen to be located. It’s an adorable little bar with many qualities that I like, including the fact that dancers can dance to, in the words of Bubbles, “anything, and I do mean anything.” I haven’t had that kind of freedom to express myself in so long.
The girls were sweet and there was one who had moved out here from Portland. We...
Watch
Part 1: A Couch For Emily
The three couches in the dance area are in bad shape. So bad that I remember them and then don’t go to work. Words cannot properly express their condition. They need to be put out to pasture, relieved of their misery, returned from whence they came. They’re a forgotten box of baking soda in the back of the fridge and can’t absorb any more. They’re shell craters that suck wallets, keys and phones....
