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.

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. 

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.

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.

I Think I'm Getting Played

I've recently befriended a young girl at the club named Mandy. Mandy moved here from Seattle and started about a month ago. Mandy had already been dancing for 2 years. It's been slow. She's striking, beautiful and not that quick to pick up on subtle hints. My friend Sapphire has hated Mandy since she started but I think it's a jealousy issue. I've looked for guile in Mandy and I just don't see it. Mandy is a good dancer and has been working for 2 years now. Honestly, I think she's just dumb and I hate this big sis responsibility kick I'm on right now but boy did she luck out. 

Mandy has taken customers from the tip rail after being told not to, she has stepped on Sapphire's toes poaching Sapphire's customers more than a couple times and I really don't think it's intentional. I think that she's just not that smart. After warning Mandy to be careful about stealing guys from other people's tip rail I was dancing on the main stage with a full tip rail and heard someone go pssssst! I turned and saw that Mandy, who was dancing on the smaller stage near my tip rail was trying to poach a customer. I mentioned it to her once I got off stage and her eyes welled up with tears. I tried to ignore the tears and walked away and still felt bad. 10 minutes later she was downstairs throwing up in the bathroom. Mandy had drank way too much. 

I've had her sit with my regulars with me and they quickly became hers (or more appropriately 'ours') before the Johns got so fed up with her 21 year old naivety and her inability to handle her booze. Then they ask for more private time with me. Ruby minus Mandy. Am I a sucker for beautiful doll like girls or what?

Rinse and Repeat

It's like 4:30 in the morning and I wolk up sweating for no reason. It's probably because I've been drinking copious amounts of alcohol these last two days and now my body is trying to release the toxins. One can only hope. I worked out before work today (technically it was yesterday) and had to take it easy on the pole. I told myself I would only drink four glasses of champagne but that went out the window after the fourth and I had about five or six more. 

To work as a stripper you have to be either emotionally fucked up enough to crave abuse or have an ego made of titanium steel. Let me premise this next rant with the fact that I'm fucking hot. I have this job for a reason that has nothing to do with being surgically enhanced with jumbo double d jugs. I look good naked. I work out hard. I'm 5'8, toned and sculpted at 120 pounds and I have a pretty face. I've been told I look like Giselle Bundchen. So, with that said I've had guys go out of their way to take me down a notch while dancing for them. A guy paying me a compliment about my hair will in the same breath say to me, "You'd have the perfect body if you just lost a little more weight around the middle." The man who so eagerly handed out this advise is a trader who obviously stays sedentary for days on end given the fact that he's one bag of Cheetos away from obese. Thanks! You should be my personal trainer.

My favorite from today was "You're a sleeper." When I asked what a sleeper was he said that he didn't notice me at all and is surprised that I'm so good looking because from far away you'd never know. Is that why he called me over and asked me to sit down?

"You're actually really beautiful." 

"Thank you."

"This outfit is kind of frumpy on you." I'm wearing a black bra and panties made of french lace. I stare blankly at him.

"It's just that you're not at all my type. I never call girls like you over."

"Would you like a dance?"

"I'm feeling generous today. I'll let you give me a dance. I never get dances from girls like you."

Immediately after stepping off stage I was motioned over by a man in a suit in his mid-forties. Not a bad looking guy but not a good looking one either. 

"Did you just start dancing?"

"Did you see me climb the pole and hang upside down?"

"Is that hard?"

"Some might say it is."

"You look familiar. I used to get dances from you a year ago. You've gained weight."

"That's not possible. I've only been here six months. Would you like a dance?"

"No offense. You're pretty and all but I'm waiting for a stone cold fox."

Must not have seen anybody he liked because he didn't get any dances. Even my friend Elise didn't have any luck with him and after her boob job dropped (I'm told you have to wait for implants to settle in) she now models for playboy's lingerie catalogue. 

Some men come in here to escape into a fantasy world and some to share their hatred of the real world. They get off on fucking with dancers and feeling out their insecurities. Some girls, mostly really young ones, can't help but let it get to them. They go blonder, five pounds lighter and add to more sessions to their work out routine. Wash, rinse, repeat. I feel sorry for them. They usually end up overly surgically enhanced, in debt because of the surgery and bitter.

Where Has Your Mouth Been?

I have to reinstate my old rule. No more hard liquor. I wolk up this morning barely able to remember what happened yesterday. I was missing $600 and started flipping out. My roommate/landlord gently reminded me that I paid him rent in cash yesterday. I hate this feeling. I am now officially on a champagne diet. No more hard booze. 

I drink when I'm upset and my Grama passed on Halloween. She was like a second mom to me. I grew up with her a big part of my life. I ended up doing nothing this weekend because of it and today I'm going to the mortuary to give moral support to my mom as she signs the papers. As a result of all this emotional stuff my stupid mind has to process I have to drink to work and drink I do. I was in a champagne room with a friend of the day shift manager and he actually kissed me on the mouth. It was all I could do to keep from dry heaving right in front of him. I actually gagged, I'm not kidding. I never let guys even close to being able to do that. Men are more likely to get away with grabbing my breasts than kissing me. Kissing customers is disgusting. One of my friends got fired for making out with a customer and even thinking about it now makes me want to puke. No, he was not hot.

I think my manager broke up with his girlfriend Leslie. I haven't seen Leslie in the club in a long time and the girl that just got put on two week probation for fighting is Leslie's friend. Leslie rarely had to dance on stage and could come into work whenever she felt like it with out having to pay a fee. Every customer she had was a champagne room and she rarely gave floor dances.  She seems to be a taboo subject these days. I'm pretty sure she broke up with him.