“Someone please give her a god damn drink so she’ll leave me the hell alone!” — Kent, my favorite manager

8 05 2009

 Hmmm… Let’s see. I didn’t work Monday because the last two have been shitty. I did work Tuesday which wasn’t as shitty as Wednesday. Tonight is Thursday. I stopped by the club and had one drink and thought I would save my energy for the weekend. What’s happened this week? Well, some guy that works construction who always tells me he doesn’t want a dance and is only in town on a temporary basis wanted me to sit with him. I told him that he always declines my offers of ripping him off. He complained that maybe if I would sit down and talk to him so he tricked me out of twenty minutes of my time at which time I decided, “Fuck this guy.” I am not going to babysit some asshole who thinks his thirty dollars is going to make me or break me. Next! Then there was a regular (club reg., not mine specifically) who was so drunk he thought it was the first time he had met me. I asked him if he wanted a dance. He also declined. Then wanted to dance with me at the bar at which time I turned around and walked off while he was dancing. He was too shitfaced to remember it next time he comes in anyways. Fuck him. Next! Then of course you get the stray Mexicans that straggle in from time to time expecting a good blow job, finger fuck, and anal all for twenty fucking dollars. At least I got the cheap bastard up to twenty five. Then I told him he could touch my pussy only to get him in the back, take his money, and then slap his hand at the first sign of a pussy grabbing attempt. Then Pedro said, “I thought I could touch the pussy.” I said, “Oh baby, no! The music is so loud you must have misunderstood me.” Then I smiled sweetly and finished my dance. Which brings me to two things that I’ve noticed.

Number 1 – I don’t have regulars. I did when I was younger. I have examined this and think there are two reasons for this misfortune of mine. First of all, I am not going to sit and talk to one person for that long because they get on my fucking nerves. I don’t care about your problems, eat shit. Then over time the regulars feel because they come to see you faithfully they should get some kind of discount. If a dance is fourty dollars I don’t mind giving three or even four for a hundred. BUT you aren’t going to sit here and make me sit with you for an hour as a preliminary to a hundred dollars. Not worth my time. If you want to spend that kind of time with me we need to be in the champagne room.

Number 2 – I don’t get more than two or three dances from one customer at the most. I have also pondered this and have come to the conclusion that the reason for this that I don’t allow them to play with my pussy and do all kinds of nasty shit to me. I don’t tongue kiss them. I just simply refuse. I can imagine how many other strippers they did it with and it would be like licking a human urinal. Not to mention that I’m just not interested. Period.

There was almost a stripper fight last night at work which was pretty cool. All the strippers were on edge because the clientele was being cheap. I was giving a dance while one bitch — we will call her Crack Whore (because that’s exactly what she looked like down to the teeth) was tongue kissing a customer and letting him grope her polluted, unclean, little stink hole. She saw me looking and started laughing saying, “Stop it. Help me…” Then the cunt had the nerve to touch me on my back and ask me to help her! I turned around and told her to keep her nasty fucking hands off me. Then she said, “Help me.” My reply was, “Help yourself, bitch.” I mean, really. Help you? You’re over there enjoying it, laughing, and only put on your display of dire distress when you get the notion someone is looking at you with an unfavorable approval rating. We have bouncers. Tell them to help you. I am not Captain Save A Hoe and if I was you look like you’d need a lot more than a couch room intervention in your life. Rehab, a few extra pounds, some dental work, and common sense and hey, who knows you could be almost decent enough to wash windshields in the parking lot or walk girls to their cars. If anyone gave you any shit you could take that one tooth out and use it as an ice pick! I don’t know how she got hired but whoever hired her needs to be fired. Anyways this display of whorism and stupidity obviously carried over to the main floor because some of the other girls confronted her in the locker room. They said the customer was playing with her puss when she fell over and hit her head on the floor. I’m sure that scene was real entertaining. One minute you’re getting fingered, next minute you bashed your head off the floor while a finger is still hanging out of you. The guy is bent over in his chair. You’re on the floor. He would ask you if you wanted some help up but he’s too busy finger fucking you. When Crack Hoe went back to the locker room she was confronted about her behavior while all the strippers stood around and watched. I didn’t only watch. I laughed. She made the comment that she was only twenty five. The bitch looked thirty five. Then she was so intimidated that she sat in the floor and cried. Then our manager came back there and he was pissed about the situation. Meanwhile, I was still sitting there laughing. He got mad at me and told me to shut the fuck up. I said, “Well, at least I’m not drunk.” He retorted, “Yeah, that would be another fucking headache to deal with.” What can I say? Was an awesome ending to a shitty night. The last time I got real drunk at work we had just quit serving liqour. The waitress didn’t bring my drink fast enough so I went to ask my manager if I could have it since it was her fault. He was trying to carry on a conversation with someone else but I kept standing there while he was talking tapping him saying, “Hey…. Hey…. Hey…. Hey….” Then he finally got pissed and yelled at me. “WHAT?” I asked for my drink. He told the bartender, “Please give her a god damn drink so she’ll leave me the hell alone.” Then I couldn’t stop giggling. I know that I am an obnoxious drunk. So I’ve been told. Now we joke about it at work. I walk up to him and say, “Give her a damn drink so she’ll shut up,” and he laughs with me.

Then I met a guy who has his own cigar company. We talked for about ten minutes and he gave me his card and said to call him this week. I called him this evening and he said that he was looking for someone to work in his cigar bar/microbrewery a few days a week. He said he has a very high end clientele and he liked the way I carried myself. Phillip and I went over there tonight to check it out. Phillip liked the idea since he hates me dancing. I am considering it. Depends on the schedule. I think the thing that would be more valuable is the networking aspect. CEOs, judges, lawyers, doctors, small business owners, etc. are all among his customer base. He said one girl he hired ended up getting offered a job from a customer and she now makes eighty thousand a year. Guess what? She had the same degree I will have completed in August. Cool shit. I am seriously considering it. I won’t get rich there but I can still work at the club a few nights a week. He is okay with that. I told him that I would keep the two totally separate. For some reason I guess I don’t believe in myself. I don’t know if I don’t think I can do better or am just afraid of failure. Nothing ventured nothing gained. I have pretty much decided that if I can work the scheduling out I am going to do it. We will see. As we all know my plans can change on a whim.

That’s all that’s going on in my world. Oh, I’ve realized I have some mood issues and anger problems. Perhaps even a little anxiety. My daughter has been with my mom which we agreed due to the fact that I was a single parent for so long until I graduated. I am going to get her on the twenty first of May and bringing her home on the twenty sixth. She will be eight years old on the twenty first. I have been trying to work on myself. I want to be healthy mentally, physically, and emotionally. Since the ARMY provides me free medical I have started going to a psychologist. I don’t tell him everything like what I do for a living, that I used to get real drunk(I’d be hearing about rehab next)… But the meds seem to be helping. I was sleeping twelve hours a day and it took me an hour or two to get to sleep. I would wake up several times. Now I sleep fine, my mood is better, and am only sleeping about eight hours. I am feeling good at this point in my life. Most of my stress comes from a financial standpoint but bills will be here when you die so I am trying to learn not to stress over them too much. It just seems sometimes like I have a lot of nervous energy. I am restless, tense, on edge… I am trying not to take life too seriously. I get so anxious that I feel physically tense, short of breath, my forehead is raised up and wrinkled up all the time… I just need to relax. Working out helps somewhat. I don’t need rehab. My drinking problems have stemmed from inability to control myself when I do drink and stress. When I drink I feel carefree. I am on top of the world. I’m happy, energetic, outgoing… When I’m sober, life is fucking boring and tedious.

Well, that’s all she wrote. Glad to see you guys are still checking in on me. I enjoy all the comments and emails I get. I like to hear from you guys. It’s what motivates me to keep writing. You guys are my inspiration. Writing has always been enjoyable to me and the fact that my writing is actually entertaining to someone else is what keeps me writing. Leave comments, feel free to start discussions in the comments, etc. Till next time… May the cash be with us…


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One response

9 05 2009
Steve

Good to hear things are going well. I hear you on those bills but like you said they are gonna be here til we die or win the Power Ball (Actually from the special I saw about lottery winners, that just makes things worse lol). For real though, glad to see your at a good place in your life. The Cigar company thing would be a good step, good quality contact for you that will come in handy. Anyways take care and we will see.

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