i've been bored

lately at work. nothing exciting to tell you. yesterday, for example, nobody even remotely interesting came in. i worked with a girl who was pleasant, but not at all engaging. i couldn't be bothered to hustle the few sweat-panted customers who straggled in here and there. i worried that i am getting old and pathetic. i don't want to become marisa tomei in "the wrestler," a bit grizzled, but still hot at 40-something, and STILL DANCING. although i did admire that she saved up a bunch of money for a house before she packed it in. but, seriously: i've gotta get my other shit back on track. STAT.

double.

(this is from monday. i thought i had published it, but i guess i had just saved it as a draft.)

whoa. today was a long-ass day. i worked a double, and since there are only two girls at a time at my club, you're on stage for half the time you're there. so i was dancing for 5 hours, which sounded like a fine idea before i did it but ended up being super exhausting. i used to work really long shifts at a big-hustle club down south but it was different because you'd just be trawling around and sitting with guys and getting up on stage hardly ever since there were so many girls. that was tiring, but in a different way.

i didn't make the kind of money i had anticipated for such a long shift, but i did okay. i guess. i mean, it could definitely have been worse. i ended up leaving with $400, which is definitely more than you'd make at most jobs. so okay whatever.

a birthday party of nerds came in for lunch, that was nice. they seriously looked like they had walked off the set of revenge of the nerds. or maybe "office space." it was fun dancing for the birthday boy because he so thoroughly enjoyed himself and was too shy to get grabby or demanding. he kept saying "wow." i wondered whether he might be a virgin. i couldn't picture what a girlfriend of his would possibly look like. i hope that doesn't sound mean, i mean i think even the nerdiest, most painfully awkward nerd is deserving of love and human companionship, and i HOPE he has dates, but i just CANNOT picture who they would be.

some good-looking plumber brothers came in. they were going through concurrent divorces. what i mean is that each is going through his own divorce, right now. they wanted to talk about that a lot. i gave them each a dance and they were chatty as hell. the older of the two complained that his wife of 29 years hadn't put out in 14 months. he's 49, been married since he was 20, and is really hung up on all the numbers involved. 29, 20, 14, 49. he said after about 10 months of the dry spell, his brother had given him some dvd's to watch to provide him with some "relief." this was a new thing for him, he claims to never have needed to jerk off before that. WELL THAT'S YOUR PROBLEM, dude! your wife is probably tired of putting out every time you have a sexy thought. anyway the wife found the porno in the dvd player and that was the last episode before the season finale entitled "divorce!"

the whole time this guy was talking, i had two thoughts in my head, on repeat: 1. why are you telling me al this, and 2. could you please stop, you're depressing me.

the brothers got good and liquored up and just when they seemed ready to pass out from booze and over-sharing, they announced it was time to drive back to walla walla. great. lovely to picture them wasted behind the wheel of their monster truck. rad.

i had one really great customer who tipped me twenties on stage and didn't want any dances, just liked sitting with me. i liked him even before he started tipping because he reminded me of philip seymour hoffman. a little bit creepy and geeky, but also kind of interesting and hot.

the rest of the day is sort of a haze. i got a little tipsy with the philip seymour hoffman guy and then it was finally time for me to get off work. my friend came to get me for a dinner date. we both felt grody and haggard. she had just finished a shift in the new seasons deli so she was greasy. we wanted to go somewhere where you sit down and someone brings you something to eat and you don't see anyone you know. we went to the doug fir, it was nearby and felt super random. well there was some show going on that a million people we know were at. great. the first person we saw was my friend's #1 crush. i thought that was pretty funny, but my friend was mortified. i said, "at least you got that promotion from the dish-pit. you'd be much more bummed if you saw her after that." she agreed that that was one good thing.

after that i came home and went straight to bed even though it was only 11pm.

i'm working again this afternoon. i hope i make some $$$ even though it's sunny and warm out.

my tits looked big yesterday :D

yesterday i woke up feeling wildly productive. i started my laundry, made coffee, and started to clean my room.

i have this amazing apartment down south and all my furniture and pretty things are there. i plan to return to it at some point, but anyway for now i'm up here in portland and i have a room in a house with some friends. our house is super nice, but my room IS NOT because i don't have anything pretty in it and it's also very messy. i feel self-conscious about it and don't want anyone to come in. it feels like when i was a kid and we always had the shittiest, messiest apartments and would never ever want anyone to come over, for shame. also this was during the nancy reagan just say no era of drug paranoia and vilification, and there was always a lot of pot paraphernalia on our coffee table, bongs and dented bongy TAB cans, and little trays of "diet pills," which was all very embarassing. but i'm not a kid anymore! i need to just take control of the situation and try to make my room look/feel decent. and i need to do it quickly because i've been going on dates with someone and he's finding it weird that i don't ever invite him over.

so, that's what i was attempting to do yesterday, and i had gotten as far as making my bed when i got a phonecall from work saying, "where are you? you were supposed to be on stage five minutes ago."

i had mis-read the schedule. this is something that OTHER people do that I NEVER DO, and i can never understand how people do it. it's not calculus. it's a fucking schedule, locate your name and times and write them down. duh. well, now i'm lumped in with all those idiots who came before me, and i get it: you look at the schedule and think it says one thing, when actually it says something else. easy. that's how you mis-read a schedule. mystery solved.

EEEK. there are only two girls working during the day, so it's actually important to be on time at this club or else the other girl will have to just keep dancing and will totally hate you when you finally get there. i took the quickest shower ever and hopped in a cab. (actually, up here there's no "hopping in a cab," you have to CALL one, then wait for it to arrive. very very different from my usual life, where upon exiting my apartment, i'm on a busy street and can hail a cab within 2 minutes.) annnnnyway, i took a cab and got to work in time for my second set. i hate wasting money on a cab during daylight hours. but i got over it.

it wasn't super busy, but it was okay. i did some dances for a native guy who had been out river fishing. i liked his braids, but he smelled strongly of fish, a smell that i didn't want to have all over me for obvious reasons. i got used to the smell by the third dance, though, and loosened up with my stilted demeanor, and ended up rubbing myself on the guy as if he were an average customer whose smell i wasn't taking great pains not to absorb. well, then when i went down to the dressing room i noticed that i had wound up smelling a bit fishy, but it wasn't anything a little stringent head to toe baby wipe-ing couldn't fix.

mid-day, i found myself feeling inexplicably grumpy. luckily i had taken a super hilarious video of my housemate. it's really just 25 seconds of her totally spazzing out on the floor of our basement tv room, yelling "fuck! that!" over and over again in reference to the never-ending rain, doing a shoulder-stand whilst scissoring her legs. but it elicits quite a giant laugh fit from me for some reason. so i went to the dressing room and watched it about five times in a row until i felt capable of smiling at customers, and then i went back upstairs.

around that time a guy came in who i liked a lot. the singer from a band i'd never heard of called "high on fire." i liked dancing for him, he was kind of hot. he invited me to their show. i wanted to go but then i got off work and forgot and didn't remember till lots later when i was REAL DRUNK, singing karaoke at the twilight room with my housemate, and it turns out she wanted to go to that show, too. but by then it was too late and anyway we had song slips in.

in other news, one or two shifts per week isn't cutting it. i want nice things and therefore need to get an additional job. but where.... there's only about three million strip clubs up here. hmm. suggestions?

p.s. it's my mom's birthday today. her present from me: an eighth of weed. put that in your pipe and smoke it, nancy reagan!

ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?!!

i finally changed the wild pepto bismol pink background. i am extremely terrible (i.e. lazy, fearful) w/technological things like that, even fairly simple ones, so it took some clicking around, and it also took reaching the end of my rope of aesthetic displeasure regarding the previous template, but now it should be less of a total eyesore. LOVE ANDI.

BS

today was the slowest, most pointless day ever. the only good thing that happened was that the toothless geezer who comes in sometimes loved my new haircut. he came up to me with this wild smile on his face and said, "has anyone ever told you they like your new haircut?"

i was surprised and charmed that he noticed. he seems so checked out. "never," i lied. "you're the first person who's ever told me that!"

he seemed insanely pleased at this. "well. it looks good, honey," he said. "real good."

later, i hurt my shoulder a little. i'm not sure how.

also i gave a lapdance to a DISGUSTING couple. the man had come up to me and said, "you have a very beautiful vagina." his EXACT WORDS.

"thank you." i said. i've heard this before. a lot. i know i have a cute vag, but i mean vaginas are cute. it's almost redundant to say so, it's like saying "cute kitten." kittens are cute! duh!

"do you want to have sex with us?" he said, gesturing first to himself and then to his woman, a short-haired bespectacled pixie type in a long weird hippie dress, which she later revealed was purchased on ebay for two hundred dollars. what a sucker.

"no thank you," i said. they settled, instead, for a lapdance, during which the girl grabbed at the guy's crotch a lot and kept accidentally jabbing me in the thighs. it was weird. i could have gotten them to buy many dances, but they were kind of freaking me out. swingers have that effect on me. no judgement, it's just not my jam. plus my friend was sitting at the rack waiting for me to be done working and i knew she didn't have a lot of dollars. additionally, my stomach was growling and it was taco o'clock.

so i cleaned up, paid out, and munched some tacos. then i came home and went out dancing with a couple of my friends. it wasn't fun, there were too many people who dislike me and they were all in one place. mostly it was my ex-girlfriend's mafioso friend clique creating a minefield of stank-eye. what are you gonna do? there's nothing to do except keep breathing in and out and reminding yourself that peoples' trifling bullshit is nothing to you.

well. goodnight. tomorrow's going to be WAY better than today.