1. stripper sunday. 2. mom monday

when i first got to work last night and went down into the "dressing room," i found a penny. it was heads-up. i picked it up and said, "find a penny, pick it up, and all day you'll have good luck!"

my co-worker was sitting behind me and for some reason it made her chuckle, dryly. i looked at her in the mirror. she just looked so frazzled and skinny that i added the optional second verse: "give the penny to your friend--or co-worker," i ad-libbed, "and your luck will never end!"

at this, her face brightened. "thanks!" she said, as i handed her the penny.

but the penny was not good luck for either of us, at least not last night. it turned out to be the most extraordinarily slow night i've had since i worked there. random people, in small groups, on and off. i really prefer guys who come in alone, because they are often lonesome and easily talked into buying a dance. when groups come in, they almost NEVER buy dances. and they usually sit at a table and watch for free instead of sitting at the tip rack. plus, they often have ladies with them, and for some reason girls just love to critique the strippers to their boyfriends. jealousy and insecurity thinly veiled as superiority. i always wonder how they'd feel if i started critiquing THEM:

sack-like dress, dull eyes, grouchy expression: not hot, good luck with that one!
desperate hand-gestures, terrible extensions, crinkly over-tanned cleavage: not hot, but will probably do whatever you say!
pretty, decent fashion, nice body: could be hot but what a bitch!

i only made $135 all night, and then i had to take a $17 cab home. AND two bummer things happened to me. first, i went downstairs between sets and was going to take my shoes off so i leaned on the counter and in doing that, i accidentally set my hand down, full force, on a piping hot curling iron. it fucking hurt intensely and also it sounded sizzly and gross! and smelled bad! so nauseating just thinking about it. then later i was running, barefoot, to the bathroom and i ran over a bottlecap. so jagged! YOUCH!

but you know, it was the first slow shift i've had there so i can't really complain. and having to work got me out of attending a show that felt overwhelming to even think about going to. and since it was so slow, i had lots of time to ice my hand. also on the bright side, i worked with a girl i've never worked with before, i forget her name just now but she was really hot to look at and was also funny and nice (not the skinny frazzled one, although she was nice too). when we were getting off work, she said, "i sure like you," which was an unexpected bit of sweetness.

and now i'm going to keep writing, even though it has nothing to do with work.

today i went thrifting with my mom. i've been avoiding her lately because she's just TOO MUCH sometimes. she was just a teenager when she started having kids, which is how she explains away having been such a violent rage-aholic when i was a kid. sometimes it's hard to pretend like all is forgiven and none of that matters anymore now that we're all grown up. i hated her A LOT when i was little, and i don't now, but once in a while certain things she says and does make me hate her anew. it's little things that bring it on. like today she ran over my foot with her shopping cart at the thrift store. it hurt, and she didn't even notice. and i knew if i said anything about it she'd get mad and act like the injured, persecuted party. it brought me right back to being little, how she was always like a bull in a china shop, just totally unaware of where her body ended and yours began. how even on a good day when she wasn't beating the shit out of anyone, she'd always accidentally step on you or knock you over. or make some big mess and then bark at you to clean it up. imagine having the bitchiest, meanest, most self-centered and spiteful big sister in the world, who would just as soon smack you in the face as cook you dinner, and then imagine that was your MOM.

now she's just sad and broken-down and always trying half-heartedly to get her life together. certainly not deserving of my hate. i don't want to have ANY hate in my heart, particularly toward her, but i find myself having to constantly check it. over and over, just talk myself out of it. i usually just pretend that she's my long-lost aunt, a person who is totally separate from the person i grew up with. and it works pretty well, but once in a while when i'm tired or have pms, my defenses are down and i remember who she was.

after the thrift store we went to have dinner at one of my favorite restaurants and it was fun. my mom's a good person to eat with because she really enjoys things. i'm like her in that way, we'll both just exclaim at length about how good something is. after dinner my hate had dissipated, but i was still a bit on edge. i asked her if she had any xanax and she didn't, but she was in the mood to make a generous gesture, so she put a call in to her pill dealer and we went over there.

that lady's house was A TRIP. well, first of all the lady herself is a trip: a heavy-set white lady in a ragamuffin muumuu and perfect acrylic nails with a giant pack of black kids running around the house constantly almost (but never ACTUALLY) knocking over the million, zillion stacks of crap everywhere. clearly the lady is a hoarder. also clear is that she tests the merchandise because whatever pill cocktail she's on was doing her just fine and she didn't even seem to notice the commotion. we got there as jeopardy was coming on. my mom had warned me that the lady doesn't like to make the sale right away, prefers that you sit a minute. she doesn't like to think of herself as a dealer, but rather as someone who is giving people what they need, but what their stingy asshole doctors won't give them. she's got a doctor who will prescribe her anything, and lots of it. xanax, vicodin, morphine: what'll it be, folks.

so. we sat watching jeopardy with the lady for a while. i kept saying the answers (or, "questions," if you wanna get technical), it was just one of those nights where you know everything. my trivia prowess seemed to annoy the lady and thereby expedite our experience. my mom says she's usually required to sit on the couch for at least half an hour, but after just a few short minutes the lady glared at me over her shoulder, as i was blurting yet another correct response, and said, "i knew that one, too." with that, she slipped our medicine into my mom's purse, and we were our the door before double jeopardy even started.

"wow," i said to my mom. "i have to wash my hair after just being in that lady's house for ten minutes."

"what do you mean?" she asked. and i realized that she doesn't notice how someone's house smells when they chain-smoke all day long inside their house without opening the windows ever. it probably just smells "homey" to her because that's how her house smelled until two years ago when she almost died of pneumonia. long story, but she had to quit smoking or she was going to die (HER being sick is a good excuse to quit the habit, by the way, but my brother's debilitating asthma never was). (oh jeez, do you see how i have so many little bitter gems to share? STOP IT!)

anyway, today was fine. i put my time in and now i'm probably not going to hang out with her again for a while. it kind of wrecks me.

dinner was delicious, by the way. i forgot to mention that. and now, for dessert i shall wash down a xanax with a glass of wine and pass out. good night!