One of the great things about stripping is finding some crumpled-up twenties in the trunk of your car when you're cleaning it out. These, I think, were leftovers from last weekend's party. I was pretty careful with the money from this weekend since I did two parties in a row on Friday night and wanted to keep the money separate from each one. You know, for accounting purposes.

The first party was a two-girl show, and I was lucky enough to snag Divine to work it with me. It was really easy, we've done a ton of double dances together at work and we are very similarly built—the same height, big strong legs, big natural boobs. Before we started she said she was nervous, but the time flew by. A lot of the guys at this party just stayed in the background; I felt like they weren't sufficiently amused or something.

The second party was up north and I'd worried about being late, but we were done with the first one way too quickly. Usually the guys will keep us around for dances longer, but this party didn't do that. So I was actually early, and when I pulled up to the address for this party, no one was home yet. I was worried that maybe I'd be stood up, but then cars started pulling in. I called the host's cell and informed him that I was a little early, so if he could just show me somewhere to change I'd chill out until it was time.

The house was a big, nice place in a swanky neighborhood, which made it all the more entertaining that it was decorated like a complete bachelor pad. Inflatable beer bottles on the mantel, a two-story beer bong that came out of the upstairs window to the deck, and bikini models on the wall. Definitely the most casual decor in a 500K house I've ever seen. The guys were really nice and made small talk with me while I waited to start the show.

When it was time to rinse off the bodypaint, a couple of the guest suggested I use the pool outside. I was happy to oblige, I like to take advantage of my surroundings. Of course, this was because they wanted me to throw the bachelor into the pool, something I didn't want to do for fear of retaliation. Or of hurting him. They'd been pouring Everclear down his throat all night. But hey, the friends did it themselves. So we had a soaked bachelor boy with torn-up underwear on our hands.

It was a busy but profitable night, last Friday. I was supposed to go to Dallas for a photo shoot Saturday but that got postponed. Which was good. I needed the rest.

I was booking a party on Friday, talking to the host on the phone, when he said, "Not to be rude or anything, but we want to make sure as far as drugs or anything, that you're not going to have them." Not an unreasonable concern, I suppose, when hiring strangers to come to your house and undress, but let me tell everyone that here at rivercitykitty.com, we're 100% drug-free. I don't even drink. Apparently he wanted to make extra-sure because one of the party attendees was in law enforcement—something that came into play at the party itself.

When I pulled up, the guys were all in the front yard barbecuing. I was hoping we'd go inside. Tee hee. We did. The bachelor was a feisty one, and aforementioned party guest whips out his handcuffs. Normally I'm a rope kind of gal, but given two pairs of handcuffs I had to use them.

Some of the guests have visited the site before and knew of my sports fandom. They were all very sweet and didn't want to let me go, so I stayed afterwards for some more dances. The cd they chose to play? Weezer's first album. I'll never hear "Say it Ain't So" the same way again. I must have lapdanced to almost the entire album before I left. They still didn't want me to leave, but I had a birthday party to attend (in a personal rather than professional capacity).

My friend Steve is getting married this summer to a wonderful woman named Patience. I've been friends with him since we were 14 years old, and along with my sister and my best friend am going to be in his wedding party. Guess what? I actually get to plan a bachelor party myself! I can't wait. I'm thinking I'd really like to find a TS stripper for this event, so if anyone has any tips, let me know. When I think of the ideal bachelor party, I think of a good dinner at a steakhouse, then repairing to a posh hotel suite where we get entertained by a succession of beautiful women. Maybe I'll book a bellydancer. Oh! Does anyone know where I can find a midget or dwarf stripper? This is going to be the best bachelor party ever.

I worked on Friday before the party, kind of a mistake because I was a little tired, but I was happy to run into a couple of familiar faces at the end of my shift. Unfortunately I was too spent to hang out with them for long. I hate that. Sometimes, yes, guys show up at the club with whom I actually like to spend time, and when I'm tired or really busy and can't give them the attention I'd like to, I feel bad. I guess I shouldn't, but hey, I'm the stripper with a conscience.

I am so happy to announce the Funniest Stripper Name I've Heard All Year:

Pantease.
Pronounced "pan-TEEZ."
That's right. Like panties, but with the accent on the second syllable. I'm not sure if that's the spelling she uses or the DJ being funny, but dammit, I don't think of panties when they say her name. I think of the line of hair products which have a name that sounds almost exactly the same. I think of Pantene. I laugh out loud every time this girl is on stage, I can't help it.

There's a girl who works at the club who's a cute, really overweight blonde, and she is extremely friendly. Apparently she wasn't always in her current condition, since she brags of having worked at Scores and various other tony gentlemen's clubs in the US. Either that or she's full of shit. Anyhow, she's really friendly. Me, some days I am just not that friendly. Sometimes it takes all of my energy to be friendly to the paying customers, and I don't have any energy left over to pretend to give a crap about whatever nonsense some other dancer is spewing, unless she's a friend of mine. And by friend I mean someone with whom I've voluntarily exchanged phone numbers with or made plans outside of work with, not just everyone I talk to at work. This narrows the field down to about three people that I might want to say hi to on those kinds of days. Apparently, my lack of enthusiasm in greeting aforementioned bubbly blonde had gotten to her. I was talking to the bartender when all of a sudden, bb comes up to me and says, "Are you mad at me? You don't talk to me like you used to." The bartender and I are struck dumb, then I stammer out a response expressing the above sentiments in a courteous, condensed manner. "Like, other people were noticing it too. One of the other girls asked me, 'Did you and Susan fall out or something?'" Which I know is total bull, it's something she made up, completely, I could tell. At the most, I was friendly to her, certainly we weren't work buddies or anything of the sort. After she left, the bartender said, "Well, that was unfair." Yes, yes it was.

Just in case anyone in Dallas is interested, I will be up there on Saturday the 24th and Sunday the 25th doing some work. Wanna book me for a bachelor party or other event one of those nights? Drop me a line and let me know. Again, this is in Dallas only.

Zoe and I went to see the Darkness last night; the show was moved from La Zona Rosa to Stubb's because of their rising popularity, and fortunately the weather was nice enough for an outdoor show. We stood outside in the midst of a sellout crowd, breathing air scented with a unique mixture of barbecue and pot, and got rocked. They were great showmen, and we got to see Justin model three terrific outfits. I told Zoe about my fantasy of putting together a set where I wear neon spandex and thigh-high white patent boots with teased hair and '80s makeup and dance to the Darkness.

I worked ever so briefly at XTC on Monday night. $5 dances exhaust me too easily; I need to do more conditioning if I want to work those nights. The one Monday where I did actually manage to stay all thr way until 2 was really good, so maybe I'll give it another try next week. I plan to be at Palazio Thursday and Friday during the day, then at XTC Saturday and Sunday night, but we'll see how that pans out.

Well, I decided to head into XTC for a few hours today once I realized that if I worked tonight, the likelihood of making it to the English office at 8:30 a.m. tomorrow would be perilously slim. So I hopped in the shower (had to rinse off last night's Mystic Tan residue) and was in there around 1:30. It was a blur; all I wanted to do was make a little money and get home, and since there were only six girls there, I stayed solidly busy for four hours, at which time I'd made my goal (and the forty bucks to cover my tipouts and leave-early fee) and split. Possibly the shortest shift I've ever worked to make a goal. It was also remarkably uneventful. Everyone seemed a little subdued this Easter Sunday. Maybe they were just coming in since they'd given up lapdances for Lent.

There was one fellow, this kind of strange little guy, who asked me to come back to VIP. I started dancing for him, looked down and noticed his fly was unzipped. Not unzipped with something peeking out, just unzipped like he'd forgotten. I said, "Hey, baby, your zipper's down." His reply? "That's all right." Huh? No, no, it's not, really. "Zip it up for me," I said, and he did. After the dance, when he stood up, it started creeping down again, of its own accord, so I guess it was the pants, but his reply made me think that maybe that was by design, that he wore his magically-unzipping pants to the club on purpose.

I also danced for a persistent dirty talker, who in all other respects was very nice, but when I was dancing was nonstop with the "Oh, yeah, baby, oh, I want to eat it, I want to taste you, oh yeah, ride it, baby, touch it just one time? Please?"

My absence hasn't gone unremarked at XTC. Hippi the DJ said, "Don't ever leave me like that again!" when I walked into the booth. He's quite the character, that Hippi, and actually one of the sweetest DJs I've ever worked with. He's definitely an old Austin hippy, one of those weird mixtures of counterculture rebel and redneck that you only find here. You have to love someone who's equally at home talking about computers, power tools, and his hatred of the Bush administration.

I was able to upload a lot of music to the computer in the DJ booth at XTC, something I haven't gotten around to at Paalzio yet, so I've been stuck dancing to classic rock, Moby, and Garbage, my basic standbys when I don't have any of my own music with me. I need to correct that, especially if I have to work another shift like yesterday's, when I sorely missed having the amusement of dancing to something offbeat. Though truth be told, I don't really dance to anything that strange, at least not anymore. I remember bringing in Railroad Jerk, Pavement, the Flaming Lips and Big Black when I first began, and you know, I think I need to do that again. My taste in music has switched. I'm really picky now, something has to really push my buttons to make me a fan. Lately, of course, I've been enamored of British Sea Power, and I have danced to "Remember Me" a couple of times, but that's as far out as it gets these days.

It was thoroughly and completely dead yesterday; I guess the Easter holiday just sucked away all of the business. The club's closed during the day today so I may head in tonight to work, though I have to be up early tomorrow to sign up for my senior seminar. Got to make sure I get into Literature and Culture of the 1960s and don't get stuck with Postcolonial Writers. It's really starting to hit home; I will soon be a college graduate. Finally.

So, there were very few of us dancing yesterday, and equally few customers. I didn't make any money until the shift was almost over and thankfully pulled in enough to make it worthwhile, but just barely. Ick. I just wanted to get that day over and done with. The first five or so guys I talked to were all just completely annoying or rude, complaining about dance and drink prices, etc. Yeah, a Crown and Coke's $7.50. You don't come to a strip club for the cheap drinks. That's what bars without naked women are for.

Fortunately the last few guys I talked with or danced for were all very nice, much more pleasant, so at least I left work in a good mood. I also saw some more familiar faces and I look forward to seeing them at work tonight.

Great things heard from customers today:
"How many dances was that? Five or six?"
"That was just five, honey."
"Better keep going, I don't have change."
and while another guy was tipping me on stage:
"You're cute! Take all of my money!" which I think is #1 in the stripper-authored list of great things to say to us at work (Basically any variation on "You're hot, here's some money). He said something I liked even more later when we were talking politics. When I referred to myself as a radical, he said, "I like you even more now."

It was very slow today, though fortunately I wasn't the only girl for the first three hours like last Sunday. I am so very pleased to give you the news that Zoe Britton is back in Austin and dancing at Palazio! I was at work on Friday and walked past the bar when someone said "Hi." I turned around and there was Zoe, back in town! And with a gorgeous friend named Mel (a knockout brunette with a face in between Liv Tyler and Angelina Jolie) in tow. They were both there this afternoon; actually, even though there were only a few of us on the shift, maybe eight, all of the ladies were of a very high quality. I've been uniformly impressed with the women at the club so far.

This reminds me, Divine, my pal from XTC, is also at Palazio now. So the two best reasons to visit XTC during the day are now two of the best reasons to visit Palazio in the afternoon(I think we're somewhere in front of the VIP room and somewhere behind the lunch special). Feel free to buy a double from us any time.

Today the DJ was playing "Closer" and I realized that I have probably done more lapdances to that song than any other song ever. Period.

A pretty blonde who dances at Penthouse was in to check out the club with one of her customers. I got to dance for both of them and she complimented my "jugs," a word I don't think I've ever actually heard anyone, male or female, use to describe my boobs. It was funny. Her customer said he'd seen my website before, though he didn't make the connection at first, just thought I looked familiar. I said, "Maybe you've seen me naked on the internet before."
"What makes you think I spend time on the internet looking at pictures of naked women?"
"Um, you have a penis. And a computer."

Check out this hilarious rant on craigslist.