chili-dog day afternoon.

when i got to work today, there was a naked tweeker girl in the dressing room. she started talking the moment she saw me and did not stop till she was dressed and on her way out into the world, spilling the contents of her broken-zippered backpack all the way. she was sooo skinny. just all ribs and elbows and pelvic bone. i'm tiny, but i wouldn't describe myself as "skinny," as i have tits and ass and muscles and even a lil' potbelly at christmastime. anyway i was changing out of my street clothes and she goes, "oh, are those gap jeans?"

"yes," i said, preparing myself to ignore whatever rambling anti-capitalist sweatshop speech i was about to receive.

"i love gap jeans," she said. "what size are they?"

"i like them too. these are a size 0."

she goes, "oh. zero? well i wear a DOUBLE ZERO. i tried the zero's on before and they were just hanging off. i'm 10 kindsa tiny."

"yeah, you're pretty slender," i said just for something to say, since she was looking at me like, "what do you have to say about that?!" and i wanted her to look away.

"yep. i'm only 105 pounds," she said, and then repeated, "i'm 10 kindsa tiny."

have you ever heard that expression, "ten kinds of tiny?" yeah, me neither. i imagine it was something a customer said to her once. must've struck a chord with her and now she's using it as her repetitive self-descriptive.

"how much do YOU weigh?" she asked, rather smugly.

i thought about lying, saying something like 125 or whatever so she could relax into her role as the Skinniest Person in the Room and shut up already. but i dunno, why should i lie to this random tweeker? so i said, "108."

"you only weight three pounds more than me?" she asked, skeptically. "well how tall are you?"

"5'2.''"

"okay, see: i only weigh 105 but i'm 5'6''. so yeah, i mean i'm just TINY."

"emaciated," "deathly thin," "precariously bony," was more like it. but i'd never say that. i don't want to be on a tweeker's bad side. or their good side, either. i just wanted her to STOP TALKING TO ME. then finally she got dressed and left.

i went and danced for a while, then sat at the bar, drinking water. i'm trying to lay off the sauce for a while, till my stomach stops hurting. it's been exactly one week now. one week and one day, actually. so i am not as bubbly as usual.

this guy sat down next to me and was talking and kept spitting a little. a sizable dollop of spit landed on my arm and then i couldn't even hear what he was saying, because i was fixated on this glob of spit on my arm. it was not that huge, but i felt sober and irritable, and i wanted it off. before i realized what i was doing, i kind of wiped my arm on his sleeve.

he goes, "what are you doing?"

i couldn't think of any good lie so the truth would have to suffice. "um. well... you spit on me and i was just wiping it on your shirt."

"oh. okay," he said, and continued on with whatever he was saying. i felt relieved that he wasn't offended. i'm not usually rude like that. or maybe i am? no. usually i'm sweet.

later i was sitting at the bar playing scrabble on my phone and just really enjoying how toasty warm the club is, i mean the heater is on truly and totally full-blast (i know i mention this a lot when talking about the tiny new dive i'm working at, but i just want you to know how unbelievably FUCKING COZY it feels to be so warm in the middle of winter, especially when you're mostly naked). a guy was sitting next to me, but we weren't hanging out or talking. anyway my co-worker played that otis redding song, "try a little tenderness," and i said, "oh. this reminds me of Pretty In Pink." then suddenly the guy started lip-synching and doing a crazy ducky dale dance on his barstool. it would've been cute, but he was about two inches from my face, and something about it was just too dramatic too close. plus that's one of my all time favorite movies and i'd have been content to just close my eyes and watch the record store scene in my mind. i smiled and offered a few polite chuckles. he didn't stop till the whole song was over, though, which i found so annoying. if i had been tipsy, i'd probably have loved it and joined in. but drunk people just aren't as entertaining to me when i'm sober. i'm sort of a drag.

hmm what else. well a canadian guy came in and wanted 4 lapdances without asking my name or seeing me dance at all. absolutely no pre-amble, just walked in and asked for a dance before he even took off his parka. i'd like for that to happen more often.

i guess that's all for now. oh, except you might be interested to know that there's a lunch special at my new club, and today it was a chili-dog with fries and a PBR for $6. does a chili-dog seem like a particularly strange thing to eat at a strip club, or is it just me? just wondering.

ying yang

last night this guy at my rack was looking at me super lasciviously. i mean, people look at me like that a lot, but this was that big bad wolfish way, like "i wanna eat you for dinner." i immediately disliked him, but i was totally certain that he'd buy dances. so after my stage set, i kinda nosed around among the club and made sure there wasn't anybody else who wanted my attention, then sat down with him for a minute. after a moment or two of small talk, i asked if he wanted a dance. he said, "well, tell me about your lapdances..."

i said, "i'd rather show you."

he goes, "okay, but i want you to tell me about it first."

even with cute, nice customers, i'm not inclined to go into tons of details to sell a dance. my feeling is: you either want one or you don't. take a chance dude, it's only $20 and 4 minutes of your life. (i'll hustle a lot more in a big club, but in my tiny little club the stage tips are good and so i don't feel the need for the hard sell.)

i said, "okay. well. it's a good time. i'll get naked and dance in your lap. feel like it?"

time for quick decisions, you're not buying a house. he goes, "okay! let's do it!"

i led him back to the dance nook, and danced for him. he kept trying to kiss me and i told him i don't like kisses at work. he expressed shock and dismay, "not even on your tummy? how about your arm? can't i kiss you on your arm?"

"no thank you," i said.

the song ended and i felt really done leaning away from his smooches. but he said, "can i have another dance? if i give you $25 instead of $20 will you put your tongue in my ear?"

"EWWWWWW NO!" i exclaimed.

"okay. well can i have a dance anyway?"

he was annoying but not so annoying i couldn't dance 3 or 4 more minutes for him.

this time it was just question after question. i realized that that must just be his "thing"--needling you with questions to which he already knows the answer is "no." i'm always happy to indulge a fantasy by doing basically nothing at all, and i obliged with many no's.

"can i have one taste of your pussy?"
"can i wait till you get off then drive you home?"
"will rub your face in my crotch now?"
"will you nibble my earlobes?"
"will you sit on my face?"
"can i just have one kiss on the lips?"

NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, and absolutely not.

then he wanted more dances, and i would've kept dancing for him but he quite randomly pulled my hair really hard and laughed, and i got a glimpse of him as a possible serial killer.

after that i had a really rad customer. he had curly hair and thick glasses and was 6'8''. something about him was just so cute and fun, and i liked dancing for him. he wanted 5 or 6 dances, and then when i came out of the dance nook, the other guy was gone. :)

it's funny how if one customer is creepy and annoying, the next one will almost always be exceptionally rad. i mean it--the extremes come in pairs.

snow night

last night as i drove to work, huge snowflakes started falling from the sky. tons of them. suddenly there was a light dust of snow on the ground. i wished i had had time to turn around, leave my car at home, and take a cab. i was in a hurry to get to work on time, though, so i just kept driving to work, and by the time i got downtown it had started blizzarding. i mean giant amounts of snow just fluffing down. i felt nervous about having to drive home in the snow later. i just learned how to drive last year, and i've never driven in snow. i really started freaking out for a minute, but then i decided to work first, worry later.

it ended up being such a good night. the place was bizarrely packed, and it was one of those rare nights where almost every single guy i offered dances to actually wanted one (or several). the boss cranked the heat up so it was nice and toasty, and the club took on a sort of lodgey feel. guys were coming in with snow in their hair and everyone was in a good mood.

right around 1:30 i poked my head out the door just to check on things. there were 4 or 5 inches of snow on the ground. i decided i'd drive super slowly to the parking garage up the street and leave my car there, then try and get a cab. but then an hour later when i was leaving, the snowstorm had become a crazy rainstorm and the snow was getting quickly washed away down the gutters. so i just drove home.

brokeback lapdance.

last night was a pretty great night at work. except that this awkward thing happened. five guys came in from longview, washington, where they all work at the same paper mill together. they were all in their early 50's except for one guy, who was celebrating his 35th birthday. the young guy wanted a lot of birthday dances from me. then after a while he gave me $20 and said, "go get the bald guy i'm with, he needs a lapdance. he's so confused, he's been in a relationship with a man for a few years but he's finally over that. doing good now, he's got a girlfriend and all that. anyway, i'm gonna treat him to a lapdance with you." ...uh... so i didn't really know what to do, i mean this guy's sexuality is not my business, and it's not really my job to advocate for him with his co-worker/friend. but on the other hand, it's not that fun to give a dance to a gay guy who is going through the motions in order to appear straight to his co-workers. anyway i gave the guy a dance. it was uncomfortable. he was very stiff and appeared uninterested and miserable, though polite. so. then the young guy wanted more dances, and after those dances, he gave me more $ and goes, "okay now i'm gonna treat the guy with the mustache to a lapdance. he's the guy the bald guy was in the relationship with. he's straight now, too." whaaaat. i mean, what do you say? i'm just trying to make a living here, please don't put me in awkward situations. the mustachioed man was even more reserved than his boyfriend. he put his hands in his lap, as if guarding his man parts from my dancing. i wanted to be like, "hey it's ok, i'm a lesbian. let's just sit this one out," but that would've been so presumptuous and weird. so i just kind of air-danced and then a million years later the song finally ended. other than that it was a stellar night, just one of those nights where i feel in a great mood and the customers are good, etc.

warm, cozy

hi! i just got home from a mid-shift at one of my new clubs. there are a few things i like about the club:
first of all, it's super warm and cozy. it's nice not to be covered in goosebumps for 5 or 6 hours straight.
the clientele is mostly attractive hipster dudes who tip fine, and then blue-collar guys getting off work and wanting dances.
the dressing room is clean and you get your own little station.
the bartenders are nice so far.
they give you a shift meal, which i don't usually eat but i think it's a cute gesture.
it's easy to park right in front of the club, and the meters are 3 hours, so i don't have to keep putting my clothes on and running outside to avoid parking tickets.

i really hope i continue to like this club. goodnight. xo andi

i'm boring and pooped out.

i keep not getting enough shifts at my club, so i got a job at two additional clubs. one is a tiny cozy little dive. i've only worked there twice, but i had good luck both times. the other is a bigger club, "the world's first and only vegan strip club." i ate a huge bowl of chicken soup before my first shift. nobody seemed to be able to tell. i've only worked there twice so far, as well. i did well the first night, but then i worked during the afternoon/evening on new year's eve, and it wasn't very great AT ALL. i made enough money that it wasn't a total waste, but i just had a miserable time being there. it was freezing cold and it's hard to hustle when you're walking around with goosebumps and icy feet, and you're too grouchy and cold to be charming. almost all the girls wear legwarmers there, and i thought it was their club fashion fad, but now i realize it's actually just to keep their LEGS WARM. i am bringing a pair to my next shift. when i got home i had to thaw out in the bath for an hour before i didn't feel like i wanted to cry.

i had a day off today, my first in over a week. 'twas grand. i went thrifting with a friend and ate and drank and was merry.

i'll try and write more. i can't think of anything super interesting. i did finally buy a little notebook to keep in my stripper purse, so i'm sure in will get around to using it soon-ish. xo andi