The DJ got on the mike on Tuesday and paged me: "Phone call for Susan, front desk," which was really strange, as whoever needs to reach me has my cell number, and generally they don't pass on calls for dancers at the club. But I wander up there and pick up the phone, saying, "This is Susan." A woman says "I'm calling fo Cesar, not Susan." Ah. Which is also funny as sometimes Hispanic customers think I'm saying my name is Cesar when I introduce myself. And sometimes people think I'm saying my name is Season. Or Suzanne. Whatever. It just goes to show you that even if you don't have some stupid stripper name like Fantasia people are going to be confused with the loud music and the booze and the staring at your boobs instead of listening to you.

There was a (black, quite butch) female customer who was deep in her cups last night trying to hang out in the dressing room. Female customers have to use the same restroom as the dancers at XTC and it's right by the dressing room; she was standing at the entrance asking if she could come in and the girls were of course ignoring her. She was eventually tossed, sort of. The manager spent 20 minutes trying to get her to pay for a dance, later telling me, "It's not like I can threaten to beat the shit out of her, you know? But--I can send Divine (a very buff, very strong woman) over to talk to her."

My legs are still freaking killing me. There is truly no better quad workout than the lapdance. I would compare it to a sexual position, but when you're having sex someone else is doing some of the weight-bearing too. During a lapdance you're doing all the work.

Talked to a San Antonio customer last night who told me the new ordinances down there still have everyone on edge, and one of the nude clubs was raided recently. I wonder if Austin will absorb the SA pervs or if the clubs will just continue to break the rules? Remind me to share my thoughts on the whole regulation process later.