Tuesday, June 22, 2010

bitch bitch bitch

work today was slow, which seems to be the case a lot lately. i barely "broke a bill," as the girls like to say. (meaning, i barely "made over a hundred dollars," but i'm sure you already knew what i meant.)

i worked with a girl i like a lot, she's been working at the club for 18 years! amazingly, she's still totally hot. anyway today she decided we are friends, and that was nice. last time we worked together i was telling her how, as a rule, i never buy a cocktail for myself while i'm working. if i can't get a guy to buy one for me then i just don't get to drink. she thought that was silly. "i buy myself cocktails all the time," she said. "why should my fun depend on whether or not someone wants to buy it for me?"

we all have our own ways of doing things.

so today was super slow and about halfway through the shift, i was sitting at the bar with my co-worker (well, she was sitting at the bar, and i was sitting next to the bar, on the edge of the stage, declining to dance for the one derelict non-tipping customer who was there) and i mentioned that i didn't feel like dancing for free today, that i wanted to go out in the sunshine since it was the first sunny day we've had in a long time, and that i felt heart-sick and full of PMS. my co-worker surprised me by ordering us a round of cocktails. "my treat!" she announced. it was a particularly sweet gesture since neither of us was making money.

after a cocktail, i felt considerably more cheerful. like, "okay. i might not make any money today. and i might be sitting in a dark, frigidly chilly over-air-conditioned strip club in the middle of the day missing out on the first warm sunshine in ages. and i might be feeling totally emo and overly sentimental and crazy as hell. but i'm a smart, pretty girl with a lot to look forward to in life, and things are gonna be okay." abrubt alcoholic paradigm shift? maybe. except i'm really not an alcoholic.

then some guys straggled in here and there. i gave a few dances. one guy was from canada. he smelled bad and he kept saying, "in canada the girls let you touch them more." "a lot more." "i wish we were in canada." "you're so hot, i wish you lived in canada."

i said, "yeah, i wish i lived in canada, too. then i could go to the dentist and get my teeth fixed, and it wouldn't cost me my life's savings."

he goes, "no, i meant i wish you lived in canada, so we could hang out," implying that the main thing standing in the way of our love was the giant boner-killing condom known as the us/canada border, because if i lived in canada i'd obviously make myself totally available to him.

another guy i danced for was wearing sweatpants. sorry, sir, as much as i'd love being able to feel everything in its explicit entirety through that thin membrane of worn heather-gray fleece you've got draped across your lap, i'm gonna have to cite oregon's no-contact rule and decline to grind.

the other guy i danced for was a nice, good smelling guy wearing normal pants. he didn't talk too much, just enjoyed being danced for.

after about ten million hours, it was time to go home. i fell asleep on the bus and woke up two blocks past my stop, disoriented and oddly carsick. i had formulated a long to-do list before i left work, but when i got home i indulged in a giant snack attack which necessitated a good deal of lying on the couch with a book afterward. then i had a hard talk with someone, which necessitated another lengthy horizontal literary escape session. and now it's nighttime and, having done nothing even remotely productive all day, i feel rather insane. i'm gonna just get into bed with my book even though it's only 10:30pm, and have a fresh start on the morrow.

No comments:

Post a Comment