I saw what is quite possibly the funniest stripper outfit in the entire world last night. Karin was wearing a small, cutoff Guided by Voices T-shirt and a thong. It made me wish my friends were there, or at least a customer who knew who they were.

Also, I heard the most unusual line from a customer when he tipped me on stage: "Come over and talk to me about absurdist theatre!"

What a terrifically entertaining day I had today. First I got my ass kicked in the gym by my lovely trainer, then I had to head home to get ready for work and head to the Bazaar to buy a swimsuit to wear for a photo shoot I'm doing for the next South Filthy (no, not me on that one) album cover. I was running late getting to work, but it was still pretty slow there at 1:30 when I got in. It didn't look like a promising day, and Divine and I spent some quality time at the bar bitching about some of the new hires. We fantasized about opening a club where all of the dancers would have to have two years' experience and be over the age of 21. And they wouldn't be allowed to drink. Those three requirements would cut down on so much stripper shit.

I brought a bag of clothes in to sell; I do this about once a year, clean out the closet of all the outfits I've accumulated or haven't worn in a year. It's hard to drop off a bag of platform heels and thongs at Goodwill, and it kind of seems like a waste, so I just bring them in and sell them for cheap to the other dancers. This is pretty common club commerce; when I first started, this helped me build a wardrobe. One of the girls was rummaging through the bag and she asked, "Are you quitting?"
"Oh, no, I'll never 'quit.' I'll just stop someday."
"I need some shoes, but I'm quitting soon," she said. "I'm going to move in with my boyfriend and get a menial (she prononced it "muh-nye-al") job."
The girl who I spotted reading Bukowski looked up, puzzled.
"It's 'mee-nee-al'," I said.
Bukowski girl said, "I was wondering what the hell she was talking about."
But hey, I give her credit for having read the word and used it correctly. By the way, I just actually looked up "menial" to see if, in fact, she'd stumbled upon some obscure but correct pronunciation. No dice, but "meen-yul" is ok.

Between 3 and 6 I stayed busy pretty much nonstop, which was great, and far surpassed my goal for the day. It was terrific and I had some really great customers, especially one guy at the end of my shift who bought four dances to put me over the top. I told him I was graduating in December and he said, "Wow, all this time I've been going to stripclubs, I've met a ton of girls in college but no one who's graduated. Congratulations!"

I had to laugh, then I started to think about the few graduates I knew. There was Lee, who finished her master's at SWT, Megan, also at SWT--I mean, Texas State--who got her bachelor's in math, then returned for her teaching certificate, Madeline, dance, St. Ed's, and Shea, anthropology, St. Ed's. Oh, I forgot about Valerie, RTF, UT. She's the only one I know who still dances, however sporadically. That's all I can come up with after all this time, though I do know some who've gone on to success in real estate. Oh, Roxanne, UT, don't remember what. I'm sure there were more. But there you go, guys, some of us are really college students. But I don't blame you for smirking sometimes when I tell you I'm in school.

There is a lactating stripper at XTC--she is wearing some sort of pastie on the floor and I saw her in the dressing room with a breast pump. Divine saw her pumping while smoking. Nice. That goes right up there at the top with the beer-drinking pregnant girl with the trashiest things I've ever seen in the club.

I wrote down this funny line from That '70s Show a couple of weeks ago. It's still making me laugh.

"Strippers like everybody. They're raised that way on special farms out west!"--Kelso

I went back down to Gatsby's tonight to drop off a tape of some Burlesque for Peace highlights. Rocky wanted to see what we're all about. I selected the sexiest, closest-to-a-traditional-striptease sets that I could find and left out anyone with a penis, though I do assume we'll have some male performers in the show. The club was pretty quiet, though to be fair, it was pretty early when I dropped by. I asked to work a couple of shifts next week, partly because I'm intrigued by the concept of a BYOB pastie club in the heart of 6th St, and partly because I figure it couldn't hurt in helping to book the show. So come on out next Thursday, when I plan to put in an appearance. Should be interesting, and now I will get to shop for flesh-colored latex and booty shorts.

It's pretty amazing, but I don't own a single pair of booty shorts (those very, very small hot pants that are ubiquitous in strip clubs). I'm either a dress girl or a bikini girl, never been much of a shorts girl. Though they look pretty good on me. I have a little extra booty to haul around after vacation but that will be taken care of soon. I'll be visiting the trainer tomorrow and eating nothing but meat and veggies this week.

Are there any other stripper blogs out there? With the effective demise of My Secret Life and Pussy Ranch, my links are getting skimpier. Hook me up, show me where the other strippers are writing.

Last night Audrey, Beth, and I went down to Elysium to see about booking the next Burlesque for Peace show, which will be a voter registration drive and benefit for transporting voters to the polls. The tentative date at this time is Sunday, October 3. Well, apparently Elysium has taken some heat for the fetish shows they've hosted and is being told to back down from anything "racy" for the time being by the TABC. Damn. While not the greatest place to perform, it's got a great location and lots of room inside.

As I was standing there listening to him tell us about why we couldn't do a show there, I though, "Hmmm, I wonder what ever happened to that club on 6th that was supposed to have strippers?" We wandered up the block after leaving Elysium, and I talked our way past the doorman, telling him I was thinking of working there (I was, and I might, so it was kind of the truth). We walked inside and were eventually approached by the owner, a very nice guy named Rocky, who made us an offer on using the space that just might work out.

As a strip club, Gatsby's is a little weird. For one, the girls are wearing pasties (latex, I believe) and full bottoms, not thongs. Table dances are available, but I didn't see any happen during the time we were there. It looked like there were only four girls working there. They were OK, with one real cutie in the bunch.

They're a BYOB establishment for the time being. I imagine the holdup on a liquor license has something to do with the fact that he's operating a de facto strip club on 6th St, even though the outfits the girls are wearing are within legal limits. It'll be interesting to see what happens if he gets his license. I'd imagine a lot more people would be in there, for one.

The building itself is very nice, and though the capacity is a bit low, it would be a great place to do a show. I hope we get it all together soon. And anyone interested in performing should be in touch with me ASAP.

Now I know what it's like to dance in the Jungle Room. Portland's Safari Club is just like walking into the famous playroom in Graceland, with the addition of a few brass poles and some tanks of piranhas. Curious patrons can buy a goldfish from the bowl on the bar and sponsor a feeding of the little pets.

I put this club on top of my list of places to visit and picked up a couple of shifts there on Thursday and Friday. They weren't very financially rewarding, though they were day shifts. Maybe it gets better at night. I will definitely return to find out when I find myself back up here. But it was well worth it to check out the club for the decor alone.

It's not a really large club like most of the ones in Texas, but it is a pretty good-sized establishment by Portland standards. There are four stages and an outside deck, referred to as the "Oasis Stage" while I was there. What you do when it's your turn to hit the Oasis Stage is go outside, maybe dip into the pool--one of those large inflatable jobs, the presence of a filter setting it above a kiddie pool--and dance around the customers sitting at the plastic picnic tables. It was surprisingly fun, more like working at a bachelor party than being at a club.

The sheer amount of stagework required blew my mind. Even on the slowest day shift I've worked in Austin, there have been about seven girls; I think that at Palazio, during one of the first weeks they were open, I worked a Sunday with only four girls. Well, that's what they normally have here on a day shift, which means that I was on stage about every forty minutes. This is as opposed to going up every two to three hours like I'm used to. And I did far fewer table dances; I only did one (!) on Thursday and four on Friday. I would definitely have to up those numbers or see seriously better stage money to be able to sustain a stripping career up here.

But it was a lot of fun; I really enjoyed myself and everyone was really nice at the club. Go say hi to Envy and Sydney and Mary Jane on the day shift over there if you're in Portland. I guess I'll be up there at night come December.

I found this article over on a bride site--it's a bride's account of how she decided to have her marriage annulled because of what happened at her husband's bachelor party. Ouch! Definitely more went on there than goes on at my parties, but still. However, I was pleased to see that she placed the blame on the bachelor, not the stripper; after all, if having a stripper show up at your bachelor party is going to wreck the marriage, you have the option of not participating, which is what I guess that guy should have done. Everyone's got different comfort levels and the smart bachelor knows what is and isn't allowed.

I got some bizarre email through my booking form; there's some guy out there who's accusing me of doing him harm by performing at his bachelor party. I'm not sure if he's for real or if it's just someone looking to vent at a stripper; there wasn't any information included that made me think it was someone I'd actually performed for. Regardless of that, the sentiment is that it's somehow my fault if there are consequences due to bachelor party activities. Nope, sorry, I'm just doing my job. What I do has nothing whatsoever to do with what happens in a relationship between two other people. Blame the bachelor, blame the friends who hired me, blame the fiancee. But I'm just paying the rent, not trying to woo the customers. Blaming me for fucking up an engagement is like blaming weight gain on Krispy Kreme. I don't force myself on anyone. They're always allowed to say "Stop," or "I can't have a lapdance," or to, god forbid, stand up to their friends if they don't want a stripper.

Also, I think that if the mere presence of a stripper at a bachelor party is going to cause a wedding to be called off, it's probably for the best that the parties involved find that out sooner rather than later. Shit, don't people talk about this kind of thing before they decide to get married? And yeah, I understand that there are guys who will hire a stripper over the groom's objections. I have performed at those parties before, and have, at the groom's request, simply left him completely alone and paid attention to the other guests. I don't care; I get paid no matter what. And I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable. I guess that there are guys who get caught up in the moment and then feel bad about it, but again, that's not the stripper's fault.

On a side note, if you went and read that link, I would like to emphasize that I would never, and I mean never, fuck a piece of candy that a party guest was holding in his mouth. No penetration in my shows.

My plan to check out several clubs up here in Portland was swiftly curtailed; I left my ID in my pants, having stuck it in my hip pocket in the airport this morning. However, the first club I stopped by is going to let me work tomorrow (with the ID, of course), so I will be at the Safari Club getting a taste of Portland-style stripping Thursday and Friday.

Sometimes going to work is good for me. I was really dragging yesterday and didn't want to go in at all, but I had promised to meet someone who wanted to book me for a party and I needed to make some more money for my trip. When I first got out on the floor, I felt as if I'd already worked eight hours. But the first customer I danced for was a guy I met years ago at the Show Palace, a very sweet man who always gets a lot of dances. So that started the shift off nicely, then I got on a roll and was busy for most of the rest of the night.

The party booker came in and we had a fun conversation. He wanted to make sure I wasn't an escort. I recently read a post on StripperWeb about some guys who wanted strippers for their party but ended up with a couple of escorts who danced for ten minutes then told everyone they could come into the back for blowjobs. While this might be what some people are looking for at a bachelor party, most guys are looking for someone to perform and entertain, at least in my experience. Pretty embarrassing for the host, especially if you've got members of the bride's family around.

I got the greatest compliment last night. This man told me, "Thank you for dancing with me and not at me." I know exactly what he means, having been on the receiving end of some very aggressive dances before. There are some girls who treat customers like a piece of furniture, whose moves look downright uncomfortable. Like bouncing up and down on a lap really hard. Or putting all of their body weight on one of his legs. It isn't pleasant. Me, I just try to give what I like to receive.

One of the things I won't miss about Austin is the environment. Specifically, the high levels of allergens in the air. I have been feeling all light-headed and tired for the past few days and have been loading up on decongestants. Just let me get through today and tomorrow, please.

Andy over at Failed Pilot (to the left) has been writing a daily countdown to his colonoscopy. I highly recommend reading it. I can't believe one of my peers is having one of these; I think my mom had her first last year.

Oh, Sunday nights. Just when you think you've seen it all, someone will surprise you. It was an eventful night last night. First, some poor guy got jumped outside our building, on the side away from the parking lot where there aren't any cameras or security. He got the shit beat out of him, poor guy.

Then another customer was so wasted he attempted to piss on the carpet inside the club. I didn't see this but heard of it from another dancer and the manager who was telling her they were extensively bleaching the area. Yuck. My club sure does draw in a class crowd on $10 Sundays. I'd never work them if the money wasn't so good. And I've begun charging $20 for dances on Sundays in VIP, because it's pretty much guaranteed that any guy wanting to go back there is going to be a handful. I don't just mean he's going to try to touch me, I mean these guys have no compunction about leaning towards my chest, mouth open as if my nipples were going to shoot tequila. They think they can swiftly run a hand up my inner thigh unimpeded. Nope, no way, not for $10 and not for $20. When they hit that point, that's when I inform them I'm done dancing for them, and by the way, they'd better tip me extra for trying to pull that stunt. Out on the main floor, guys are far less likely to try anything like that.

Last night one particular winner in VIP (or VEEP, as our non-English speaking customers refer to it) kept trying to lunge for my breasts. I finshed the two dances I told him I'd do, then got dressed. "More! More!" he said. "No. You touch too much." "Please! One more! For you!" He hands me $60 and I figure I'll put up with him for three more minutes, but that's it. After that dance is over, during which I've had to physically hold him in his chair, I'm out of there. He proceeds to offer me $200 to lick my breasts, which I turn down.

An aside here: Why isn't it ever some really hot chick who makes this offer?

I can't imagine how drunk he was; I'm sure he could find girls who offer such perks as a routine part of a lapdance. And hey, more power to them. It just amazes me how some of these men cannot understand what no means. It gets annoying.

I did have some fun last night; there's a sweet young man who's been in the club a couple of times who I saw yesterday. In the middle of the dance he whispered, "You're a really sexy dancer," and I was really flattered. Love a good compliment on my technique.

I have a final this afternoon, my last of the summer, then it's into work for as long as I can stay upright.

Tuition is paid. Ahhh. Now I can focus on vacation money this week. Of course, that's not nearly as high on the motivation scale, but it's a lot more fun to spend. I'm planning to spend some time at Portland's finer stripper boutiques, and of course their Lush. Just a few short years ago, I had to be in Canada or the UK to shop at Lush, and now they're Stateside. Of course I shop online, but it's just not the same as walking into one of those amazingly fragrant shops and seeing the wild, colorful array of delicious bath products.

I heard something very funny at work Monday. Kylie and I were up at the front desk, chatting, when she said, "So I guess you and Becky were doing a double for this guy in VIP last night?"
"Yeah, that guy in the turban."
"Well, Amy came up here when Johnny and I were talking and she said, 'I just saw the grossest thing ever.'"
"What? We didn't do anything."
Well, I may have gently stroked Becky's upper thighs and she may have buried her head in my breasts, but that's about the extent of it. Pretty tame on the scale of two-girl shows.
"Well, check this out. She said, 'I don't like anything with two girls. I think it's disgusting.'"
We laughed, as that's far from a typical stripper attitude. Double dances are fun and easy money and most of us are happy to do them.

And then I'm back in the dressing room when Jasmine very loudly announces, "Hey, y'all, if you're doing anything don't do it in front of Amy. She's a snitch. She snitched out management to 5-O and she'll snitch you out too."
I never got the details on what she supposedly told the sherriffs who come in on weekends about the management, but Jasmine continued to loudly inform everyone that this little 18-year-old apparently couldn't wait to inform on her coworkers, dancers and staff alike, to them, or to management.

I'm of course staying out of it, though I'm certainly not going out of my way to be nice to this girl. And if she continues with this type of behavior, someone less laid back than I am will almost certainly be motivated to give her a rather harsh attitude adjustment. Anyone with a problem with watching two women dance together needs to be in another line of work.

Rarely do I work late; and late at XTC is later than at any other club in town, since it's open until 5 a.m. on the weekends. Last night I was there until 4. Of course, I hadn't come in until 10 p.m., so the shift I worked was of a typical length for me (five-six hours. We are supposed to work a minimum of eight hours, but we can pay $20 to leave early, which I do nine times out of ten). It was busy and crowded last night--those might sound like the same thing, but they're not. Crowded is when we have a lot of people; busy is when the customers are buying a lot of dances. They don't always coincide. But I had a good night and am halfway to having my tuition paid. Hopefully tonight will put me over the top.

I danced for one very handsome black man in VIP for a while; it was probably the highlight of my evening. Very nice, too. I was happy to see some of the girls I normally miss since I don't work late on the weekends.

I also missed how good it feels getting off work at an obscenely early hour in the morning, physically beat but mentally wired from the night's activity. Everything feels so satisfying after a good late shift. Smoking that cigarette on the ride home, finally being able to sit down. Eating dinner becomes a carnal experience, as does bathing and crawling under cool sheets. I feel as though I've really earned the right to lie around in bed reading my trashy novel.

Well, I came in second in the contest, but I was told it was rigged since I knew three of the judges there. Regardless, it was a lot of fun, and I'm going to be out of town during the finals. It was pretty funny, I was the only outside girl to sign up for the contest and the rest of the girls were all Sugar's dancers who were recruited for the contest. I ran into James, a former XTC manager who's a manager over there now. They also have a female manager, Stephanie, who was very cool. I'm always impressed to see a female manager at a club. They are all too few and far between.

A bunch of girls from work came out to cheer me on, which was fun, and the lovely Jenny and a friend came out as well. It was a good time. I was pleased to see my friends come out. Thank you!

School is wrapping up, thankfully. I'll be done with classes on Friday and have a final on Monday, then it's off for a week's vacation before the fall semester starts.

Thursday and Friday were pretty quiet, though I think I did decently enough on Friday for as slow a night as it was, thanks in no small part to a very nice customer who I haven't seen in a while. The summer really makes me appreciate those guys. As does my impending tuition bill, due in four days. Ack. I hope tonight's considerably better.

Come on out to Sugar's tonight. I'll be competing in their scholarship dance contest. I think it starts at 9 p.m., so come on out and look for me.

So much for my planned nineties nostalgia trip last night. I went down to Emo's to catch Sebadoh, remembering the handful of great shows I'd seen them put on there in the past. No one told me they were using a cd player as a drum machine, though. A cd player that occasionally skipped. One of my friends said, "If they had any balls at all, they'd have worked the skips into the set. Lou and Jason should have tracked down and made up with Eric.

I guess I won't be back down there until Electrelane are in town.

And after tuition is paid off, I will be saving my dollars to go to London for the Super Furry Animals giant show to celebrate their greatest hits release. An entire venue taken over by the Furries, I can hardly wait. Mmmm, Gruff. Cael cyfathrach a mi?