Wednesday, April 29, 2009

My Brain is Beginning to Atrophy

I'm currently trying to rub together the two brain cells I have left and get back to being productive. I need a life change damn it!

I know it's been awhile but a lot has happened since I last logged in. I'm moving to a new apartment just outside of the city and am both anxious and excited. I'm also working on my grad school applications. I feel stupid calling up my professors and asking them for a recommendation. The first question I'll get is "What happened to law school?" the second will be, "Why do you want to get a master's in English?". I'm all over the map. How embarrassing. Still, school never hurt anyone.

I have to go back to school. I can feel my brain begin to atrophy just sitting in the club all day. My new apartment is a teeny tiny one bedroom in Sausalito. I'm moving in, in two days and haven't even begun to pack. I was just about to pack when I turned on my computer and realized I haven't written a new post in a long time, LOL! I hate packing when I have to downsize. My living space is going to be a lot smaller than it is now.

My goal is to quit the club by September and save up as much as I can before then. It's a lofty goal considering I have no other source of income but I do have some time to brainstorm. My boyfriend thinks I need to slow down with it all... whatever that means. I had a panic attack a few days ago and I haven't had one that bad in a long time. He was there to wittiness it and wanted to take me to the hospital. It was embarrassing at best, I hate having them in front of people. 

I quit Broadway club (actually, I just pulled a 'no show' and never called in) after a bouncer was shot in the entryway. I also found out, after some bitch started shit with me, that in the upstairs dressing room there's a gate in front of dressing room the girls will shut and use to lock the managers out when they decide to jump a bitch. Fuck Broadway! Working in that place is like being in prison.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Shame and Booze

I'm always hung over. This would be the perfect job if hang overs didn't exist.

Last time I left off with a customer who gives me very little money but lots of useful information. I'll get to that in a minute.

Working five shifts a week is bullshit. I took the day off. I have so much to do at my house. My room reeks of cat piss. My cat won't stop peeing on everything. It doesn't help that I have to give him an I.V. that fills him up like a water balloon everyday. Still, the fact that the urine smells means his kidneys are still working. I need to clean my room badly. My boyfriend has been sleeping on the couch. 

Last Friday (or Saturday, I can't remember which) mine and Summer's boyfriends brought Summer's boyfriend's brother and his girlfriend to the Broadway Club. Everyone saw me dance on stage and I was thrilled with being able to show off. Unfortunately everyone was just a little too fucked up for it to be comfortable. The brother's girlfriend was so wasted she introduced Summer and I to two of her friends by our real names in front of customers. The two friend's of hers work with her at S.F. General Hospital as doctors in residency. When I got off stage I was still putting my top back on when all four of them approached me. The girlfriend loudly called me by my real name while I winced and smiled politely as I shook hands. I was painfully aware of my nakedness, not that I have any shame. Lets just say that I felt like a loser. A smokin hot loser. I desperately willed my grad school applications to turn themselves in and my novel be published. Anything to prove I have a brain.... and then I let all that bullshit go.

I'm happy. I'm figuring myself out on my own terms. 

Before I go on I want to respond to a few comments:

Sapphire Smoke: ... It's interesting, you all are so much more strict in CA. In Texas you have to have your top off on stage (or bottoms, if it's nude) and during lap dances even our "strict" rules can be bent a little...

I guess it's really like that everywhere. It's all about who you are and who you know when it comes to whether or not you'll get in trouble. I know girls who get away with murder. Although, since we do serve alcohol you cannot have your top off during a lap dance. However, some of the girls might as well have them off. They'd wouldn't be showing much more. I get guys in the club from Texas and Nevada all the time who can't wipe the astounded looks off their faces... "You expect me to pay for that?" 

My favorite are the girls who act all high and mighty they work at a 'topless' versus 'full nude club. "I could never show my vagina. That area is sacred!" Yet you can grind on guys dicks all day. Bitch please.

Natalie: 450 for a double shift? I would think that's a slow LONNNG day.

Everyday I go into work is a gamble. Some times I break even, some times I hit it big. The more I show up the better odds I have. I never lie about my money which the majority of dancers do. It's the whole, 'I have to inflate the number or everyone will think no one wants me complex.' It's bullshit. I've seen the most beautiful girls make shit while others not so blessed are raking it in. Half of it is luck, half of it is skill. Some days are like being trapped in a time warp. I blame my excessive drinking on such days. Without booze I'd go out of my mind with boredom. 

I started this post talking about Alec. Alec was a strip club manager and knows a lot of people currently in the industry. Alec is also considering opening his own club. After a couple drinks Alec reveals to me that the reason Blondie and Ashley are both doing Evan is because he's their dealer. Apparently Ashley approached Alec with a little blood trickling down her arm and nodded off on him. Whoa. The moment I heard that I'm thinking, poor thing. She's only twenty-four and the Broadway Club has already chewed her up and she's soon gonna get spit back out.

Well, she was spit out. Last week actually. I heard at Classy Club that she was walking around with a horrible nose bleed that she didn't notice. Evan was refusing to speak to her and he didn't notice in his attempt to ditch her. Finally, after a few horrified customers complained Ashley was approached by house mom who told her to get upstairs to the dressing room and clean her face and chest off. When Ashley descends back on to the floor she still has dried blood all over her. Ashley was terminated right then and there. 

Ashley waited a few days and shows up at Classy Club. Our manager hires her and tells her he just needs to call the Broadway Club to cross check it really is okay for her to come over to Classy. Ashley waves him away with a 'never mind, thanks anyway' grabs her shit and bails. I wonder what she got caught doing.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Five Shifts In One Week... Again!

I took my cat back to the vet and he seems to have stabilized. That's a load off my mind. It still cost me $275.00 for the vet visit which is really nothing compared to the 3+ grand I've already spent on him.

Last Friday Summer and I worked a double, Classy Club for day shift and Broadway Club for night. I walked with about $450.00. That's $450.00 for 16 hours of my time. This week Summer and I are no longer pulling doubles. It seems every time we try to take on a double shift by midnight we're too tired to work the crowd.  Midnight to 2am are the two most lucrative hours. It's not worth it. Summer and I will be working day shift at Classy Club Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday and night shift Friday and Saturday and Broadway Club. I'm hoping to stack up some cash this week. All my rainy day money has been spent on vet bills and I want to take a week off to focus solely on my book so I can finally get this first draft finished already. Writing a book is like running a marathon, the last lap is the hardest and the most important.

I've been getting the strangest requests to meet up outside the club with alarmingly accelerated frequency. Wither it's directly related to working more shifts or more and more girls are doing extra outside of the club. I'm guessing the latter. Men are starting to expect more when I sit down at their table. Times are tough. Dancers are desperate. But if you give a customer an inch they'll take a mile. A man I sat down with at a table with four of his friends asked if my breasts were real and tried to put his hand inside my bra. I caught him by the wrist trying to laugh it off but he was persistent. I hissed in his ear that if he continued I would have the bouncer throw him and his friends out of the club and head first into on coming traffic. His eyes filled with surprise and he jerked his hand away as if my tit were on fire. His pathetic attempt to touch me didn't surprise me. I deal with that all the time. His shock at my reaction caught me off guard. Really?

And ladies, come on! I love giving dances to women, in fact, I prefer to. However, just because you're a woman doesn't mean it's cool to molest me and rip my fucking outfits. We're both women for fucks sake. We can have sex whenever we want. Why are you acting like some desperate dude?

A man I say last Friday named Rick, a successful silver fox type, threw me for a loop. I can tell the reason he chooses to spend time with strippers is because he relishes control. I could spot him from a mile away. We were doing three for $100s and he was pushing the envelope as far as he could getting mildly annoying. Then Rick asked if I was a cop.

Rick owns property in the Caribbean and a four story house in Potrero Hill with the most spectacular view. I've never been inside but I drive by it on my way to my favorite pet food store, Pawtrero.

I answered that I was neither a cop or a prostitute. He then chastised me for being so presumptuous and 'assured me' he didn't want to stick his dick in me'. Yeah, right. Rick then told me he wanted to photograph me in his private studio at his house doing tasteful lingerie poses. Rick said he would pay me $500 per shoot once a week. He would open an account at his favorite lingerie store for me to charge my outfits too, and some of the photos would be 'tastefully' involving other women. I could use the money but it's not worth the head ache. I'd be crossing too many boundaries. 

I looked Rick up online just like he suggested. He does have his own business and he has been written up in Forbes and such. This intrigues me because this means he's actually busy. I just assumed the reason Rick wastes so much time and money at Classy Club is because he's rich and bored. He buys lots of dances and pays well. I hope he doesn't drop me once he realizes I'm not actually going to participate in his 'private photo shoot fantasy'. Rick's all time fantasy is to photograph me with an Asian woman. Apparently their are many girls working at Classy Club that have been photographed by Rick. I wouldn't put it past any of them but it's hard to tell. Customers lie.

On to my next problem, Alec. I'm nervous to write about Alec. The reason I haven't told you guys about Alec before is he's the man I can get in the most trouble talking about if the wrong person discovers this blog. Alec now works in consulting and just opened a bar. When I met him he told me he worked for a consulting firm. He bought dances from me. All the other girls in the club were stunned. Apparently Alec never buys dances from anyone. I saw him as a mark and I played him for all he was willing to give me. I told Alec 'maybe' I'll meet him outside of the club, 'maybe' I like him enough to date him, etc. Now I find out he used to be a strip club manager and knows everyone in this city that's in the industry. Even worse, Alec is friends with all the club owners. WTF!

Alec actually thinks I'm going to be his girlfriend. Everyday he grows more impatient and more insistent on me meeting him outside of the club. This job has given me so much insight to the male ego. Even though Alec has been a club manager, managed girls, and knows the games we play he still thinks he's the special one that will go home with the dancer. 

I've known Alec in the club for eight months now. It's not going to happen and he keeps getting more and more desperate. He's not a big spender, in fact he hardly gives me any money at all anymore. Still, in this small city everyone knows everyone and Alec is a vat of useful information. More on that later. I have to get ready for work.

Saturday, February 28, 2009

My New Club Rocks

I'm hung-over and have the worst menstrual cramps. I worked a double shift yesterday. Exhausting! I have two different names at two different clubs:
Ruby = Classy Club
Chase = Broadway Club

I've been at the Broadway Club for a week now. My friend Summer started with me at the Classy Club almost three weeks ago and said she wanted to check out more clubs. The Broadway Club has the same house mom as the Classy Club (which is only temporary for her. All the Deja Vu clubs in the city are co-owned by the same people.). Summer and I were offered a one shift per week schedule and the usual standard in all clubs is that you have to work at least three. The Broadway Club gave us this option simply because we're coming from Classy Club and they are in desperate need of good looking girls. I know girls who work mandatory three shift schedules at two different clubs. That's a mandatory six shifts a week. Um, part of the reason we're strippers is so we don't have to do that. The Broadway club said we can even do splits if we want to. That means that if we work at Classy Club during the day we can then show up at Broadway Club at 8pm even though check in is at 6pm. They're suppose to charge you a late fee of up to $200.00 if you're late for check in. Our deal is pretty sweet and that's what we did yesterday.

The Broadway Club is a lot of fun. It's seedy, has way more if a party vibe, gets out-of-towner Broadway foot traffic, and some crazy bitches that work there are down right hilarious! It also has history. It was this countries first strip club and employed Carol Doda, the first woman to ever have had silicone injected into her Ta-tas. They're also famous for a piano they keep hung over the back entry way. The piano used to lower from the ceiling with girls dancing on it who crawled up onto it from the second floor. One evening, after hours the assistant manager was doing his girlfriend on top of the piano. Some how the lever switch switched on and he was crushed between the piano and the ceiling. The girl was saved by her pelvic bone and his enormous belly....ew.

I worked a double with Summer at Classy Club during the day and Broadway Club at night. We both ended up walking with a little more than $500.00. This may be seen by some as pathetic but I try to keep it in perspective. I remember working as a legal secretary making $550.00 a week. Now, with a debilitating economy where people getting laid off on a daily bases I can make that on a Friday and it's fun. It also allows me time to work on my novel and travel. Not only do I not have to fuck anyone I don't have to even interact with people I don't like. 

Last night was slow at Broadway Club. Still, it was entertaining. Both Summer and my boyfriends came in to see us. My boyfriend took a liking to another dancer named Ashley. Ashley is a shorter busty brunette with nice fake tits and pretty blue eyes and ink black hair. I myself am tan, tall, thin, v. leggy with long blond hair. My tits are a perky smallish C. I'm proud of them. They're real. All of us were getting drunk and my boyfriend kept the drinks coming and gave us plenty of money for our doubles dances. I didn't even feel a twinge of jealousy, although I would feel pretty awkward if Ashley found out he's actually my live-in boyfriend, not my regular from the Classy Club which we had her believe.

Ashley was fighting with Evan, the Broadway Club's Assistant Manager. Rumor from the Classy Club is that Ashley and Evan are an item. What is it with hot strippers hooking up with not hot managers? Ashley is twenty-four and dumb. There, I answered my own question. Ashley talked her friend from grade school into coming into The Broadway Club and taught her how to dance. Her name is now Blondie. Blondie is about Ashley's same height with a bigger boob job, twice as much fake tan and obviously, is blond. It didn't take long until Evan was fucking Blondie in the office while Ashley was working the floor. Some how Ashley found out and the air is tense between the two girls. Ashley thinks she's in love with Evan for whatever reason. The girls are civil enough with each other now but talk a lot of shit behind each other's backs. If Ashley is drunk she'll yell at Evan on the floor in front of everyone for talking to Blondie for too long and/or ignoring her.

I first saw Blondie on my second shift and she approached my with disdained curiosity. Being tall and blond I'm her biggest competition. Her regulars kept insisting on introducing us to each other creating awkward tension each and every time. Because Blondie didn't like me Ashley automatically became my ally. It's really stupid.

There are only four hot girls that work at The Broadway Club. Me, Ashley, Blondie and Summer. The other girls are tweekers, old, ugly or all of the above. During the week we hardly have to work. Guys will approach the floor of us to ask us for dances. It's quite an ego boost. I was trying to 'make friends' and called one of the girls over after she got off stage to do a doubles dance with me. On stage she looked kind of pretty. Up close she looked ravaged. She was sallow, had missing teeth, and her eyes darted nervously around while she chewed her lips and scratched her face. She wouldn't stop talking and when she talked, it was really fast. Her name is Phedra and I will never ask her to join me again. She made my customer so uncomfortable he left.

Still, my all time ultimate Fugly Award goes to Miss Asia! According to Classy Club girls she's danced at almost every club in the bay at one time or another. Even though she's beat up looking she has a pretty okay body. Still, she actually as some thinning hair on the verge of becoming straight up bald spots on the back of her head. Even though there are black spots where her teeth should be in her cavernous mouth, Asia's eyes are her worst feature. At some point in her life she attempted to have her eyes widened through cosmetic surgery. It was a botched job. You can see her entire eyeball and she doesn't blink that much. It looks almost like tooth picks are holding open her eyes really wide. Her nick name is The Grudge. She doesn't wear stripper shoes but professional dance shoes. Two inch cha-cha s to be exact which gives her an even weirder Lynchian film feel. She moon walks across the stage, and when she's not moon walking she sorta scuttles around. Out of all the strippers I've ever seen she is by far the most disturbing.

Monday, February 23, 2009

I Came Out Of The Pole Closet... to my Mom!

I told my mother I was a stripper yesterday. My cat has been really sick. He has kidney renal failure and he's only two. I've taken him to four vets and all of them say he must have been born with bad kidneys. My mom came over to my house in the city to look at him. She loves him too. We went to dinner and a movie. Over dinner I outed myself. I don't like lying to my family and I wanted to come clean. She was fine with it. Then we went to see The Wrester. Bad idea.

I've been under a lot of stress lately with my cat and vet bills. His vet bills are almost $3,000.00. If I wasn't stripping I wouldn't be able to afford his meds or his prescription food let alone take him to the vet. Times are tough all around. 

I forgot Marisa Tomei plays an older stripper in The Wrestler. After the movie my mom immediately launched into my degree, how hard she worked at helping me get a college education and how she will support me in whatever I do as long as I'm moving forward. I agree with her. It really made me think. Since then I've worked on my resume (I have a couple of VP friends at different companies helping me fill in some gaps) and am looking for unpaid internships at local magazines. I have the money to do it. Why not? Maybe it will help me get into the Grad school I want to go to. My mom always helps me put things into perspective. Honesty really is the best policy.

Some dancers were outed as call girls last week and were fired imediatley. Apparently management finally found their website. I was wondering when that was going to happen.

In other news, I've gotten my friend Summer to come work with me! It's been so much more lucrative tag teaming guys with her. It's also a lot of fun. We decided to branch out from our 'mother club' in the finance district and go to a club on Broadway. We both love it. So far we've been working one night a week at the Broadway club and three times a week at our mother club. I find that I don't drink or smoke nearly as much around her because she hardly drinks and doesn't smoke at all. I should end this update here. We're working on Broadway tonight and I'm supposed to meet Summer at the spa in half an hour to get our spray tans. 

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Just Say No

Wednesday was surreal. I pulled $600 and was incredibly inebriated the entire day. It really wasn't intentional. I was given a cigarette packed with weed and was so dunk on gin martinis that by the time a realized what it was I had smoked half of it. I don't smoke at work. It makes me paranoid.

My day in a nutshell: 2pm- Champagne room with regular.
Me: Sipping gin martinis on my costumer's lap
Him: Begging me to go out with him.
Me: guzzling my martinis
Him: Getting more annoying.
3pm- Another regular comes in. Hands me a cigarette full of weed which about ruins my day. I demand he buy dances from me every time I'm on rotation for main stage because I'm too paranoid to go up. He backs down and submits. The only problem is we're both too fucked up to properly follow what's going on and the next rotation he leaves for the bathroom right when I'm called up to stage. Lame. I almost slipped and fell out of my shoes about a dozen times. How I managed to climb the pole to take my top off on my last song I have no idea.

5pm- Another girl's regular comes up to me and demands to talk about Naom Chompsky for an hour. He tips me $40 bucks. I'm tired and just want to go home. I spend the rest of the evening hiding out in the dressing room. If I wasn't so inebriated I would have told him no.

Monday, December 1, 2008

Why Am I Here Still?

Work was awful today. Really, really bad. A cocktail waitress that I used to work with was murdered last week by a stalker. She had a husband. She had kids. The stalker shot himself after shooting her. We now have mandatory escorts to our cars. Even day-shift girls are now being pressured to valet our cars with the club. Is this a result of the economy? Perhaps not. Girls have ended up in dumpsters outside of strip clubs for decades. I feel horrible that it doesn't have to make sense. She was a sweet girl. Nice person with an okay disposition. I really didn't know her that well. I remember she looked tired most of the time. Probably because she was taking care of two kids and trying like hell to keep her house which was located outside of the city. Not easy to do these days in California.

The club was pretty much empty today. I left with one hundred dollars which made me want to cry. Living in the city is not cheap and rent was due yesterday. This of course was the direct result of the cops coming in earlier in the week showing pictures of the guy to see how many dancers/staff recognized him. Case closed assholes! The freak show is dead. What more do you want? Needless to say customers fled.

I have a funny feeling about it all. It brings me back to the saying 'believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see'. There has got to be something more to the case if the cops are still asking questions. Still, I feel incredibly guilty getting pissed over such mundane things as money when that poor girl is dead. She was a mother of two for fucks sake! Her murder is now a taboo subject in the club. I exchanged ideas with the bartender who gave me a few free shots of raspberry flavored vodka. There was a creepy guy who wore jeans and a dark hoody that stood in the alley way across from our club and watched the girls leave at night, but that was months ago. He only did it for a week or two. The bouncers and floor hosts scared him off after the girls started complaining.

I don't know. I'm broke, drunk, and still trying to process. I want to get my .22 Ruger I have stashed in Florida right now.