Thursday night was drama-filled; one recent hire got wasted, fell, and broke her ankle. She sat sobbing in the lobby until her ride came. I can't believe they didn't pack her into the office; for one thing, I wouldn't want to be sitting in front of the entrance to a club like that, for another, I wouldn't want to walk into a club and see that. The DJ (who is in his mid-late 30s) had three underage (that's under 21) friends hanging out in the booth with him all night long, getting drunk, which didn't contribute to the quality of his work--and believe me, we don't have extremely high standards. Keep the songs at a consistent length and announce the dancers on stage; you'd think it'd be pretty easy. Hard to keep your mind on it when a girl half your age has her tongue down your throat, though.

Even the most professional gals were drinking; I am pretty sure I was the only sober one in the club for the whole night. I managed to actually make some money, whereas I heard one stunningly hot, hustlerific dancer talking about leaving with $29 after being there for three hours. Crazy.

Friday was vastly more entertaining in a good way. I spent some time with a really nice customer who detailed his extras-filled experiences with a couple of dancers in VIP to me; I wanted to caution him about speaking with other dancers about that. For one thing, while I'm aware of the activities of these particular handjob artistes, some girls might go crazy and start shit with them. For another, I could start sending a bouncer in the back every time he's back there with them just to fuck with them. Which would be funny . . . these girls do not have the sense to pay off the bouncers, choosing to use other strippers as their lookouts if they want to try something.

Tax day wasn't so bad; I was only in for about four hours and made out just fine. The customer count was down a little, though.

I heard the funniest story from a repeat visitor. "I was at the Landing Strip right after the election, and the dancer I was talking to asking me if I was happy or sad. 'Pretty pissed,' I told her. 'So you're a liberal, huh?' she asked me. I told her that I was, and then, when she danced for me, she kept whispering in my ear, 'Liberals are sexy!'"

The I had to tell him about the best conversation I've ever had with a stripper ever. I hadn't seen E in ages and ran into her on Wednesday at the club. "Where have you been?"
"I move to Florida in October to vote for Kerry there," she said.
"Oh, damn, we moved to Ohio and did the same," I told her.
"Yeah, we should have gone to Ohio with another 100,000 people instead. (beat) I went up a cup size, too."
"Yeah, they're big! Are they cohesive gels?"
"Yeah, feel them!"
*squeeze squeeze*

Greatest conversation ever.

Oh, how I hate writing checks to the United States Treasury. Sadly, I can't be one of those strippers who doesn't pay taxes, or who declares, like, $15,000 a year. I wouldn't mind so much if I got more shit for my money . . . like healthcare, etc. And I'm actually pretty fortunate in that area, having a partner who works for a company with a decent plan. Were I to pay for health insurance on my own, it would be outrageous. Someone really needs to do something for strippers; NASE turned me down because of my occupation. No, really.

Back at the X last night; last month they claimed they'd be replacing the carpet, which is still just awful. It was a decent night if a little slow, and also one of the rare Wednesday oil wrestling nights I've worked. I did have a lot of fun chatting with a young man who knew what I was talking about when I compared a band to Captain Beefheart (note: I don't recommend this for everyone, but my knowledge of esoteric bands has actually made me money before). He was also an old Show Palace customer and we spent some time reminiscing about the ladies of that club.

There's this extremely useless dancer working there right now; she's been there for quite a while, maybe six months, and just about every time I see her she's incapacitated by alcohol or something. She'll still make it up on stage, though, which provides for some very entertaining moments. For instance, last night she was complaining about the cold and was wrapped up in a blanket in the dressing room. When called to stage, she motored up there, blanket and all, and then turtled on the stage with the blanket pulled over her head for a full thirty seconds. Another girl and I were at the door and just stared, mouths open. I asked the DJ about her work habits, and he said, "She's a really sweet lady, always really nice to me. But she's always coming up here telling me about what she took recently."

But she was the exception last night; the talent was actually at a pretty high level on Wednesday. There's one recent addition in particular I think is cool as hell, a girl who dances by Katrina. She's got super spiky short blond hair and a really, really hot ass and little boobs, which I think is a terrific combination. She rocks.

The new DJ is also really good; he actually cuts the 2-4-1 songs shorter than full length, something we've all been complaining about with the others in the club. A 2-4-1 should definitely be longer than one song, but it shouldn't last for ten minutes, either. Six, maybe, considering that the average dance is three and a half to four minutes long.

I loved wearing my awesome hot new outfit. I love sheer. And hot pink! You could see me from the back of the club. And it's dark in there.

Well, Columbus was fun and profitable again, even though I had to just drag myself in every night (then come home happy I'd done so). There were just a ton of guys in for the Frozen Four, the majority from Boston--just huge college hockey fans who "go evahry yeah."

So, at Pure Platinum there's a skybox. It's $150 every 15 minutes, dancer gets $100. We're not allowed to do lap dances at this club (no ass- or boob-to-lap contact), but in the skybox, there's the possibility of a better dance. Or so I hear; when I take guys up there, we talk politics and I give them manicures. I don't tell the guys they can touch up there, or that they'll get any extras; I don't want to promise something I won't deliver, as I think it's never a good idea to be in a room alone with an angry, drunk, horny guy who feels like he just got ripped off. But apparently some dancers will hint at what they might offer up there, get the money, then as soon as the customer tries something she doesn't like (anything from touching to pulling out his dick), she'll holler for a bouncer and get him tossed. That is just wrong, and one of these dancers will find it backfiring some day. Even strippers need some scruples.

On Thursday night, I sat down and started chatting away with some nice, quiet guy. We'd been talking for several minutes before he said, "My wife is working tonight." Which means to me two things--one, that I won't make any money from him, and two, am I going to get in trouble with her? No to the second one; she's a very friendly dancer. Who got even friendlier as the night progressed, asking me to "Make him horny!" and "What are you doing after this?"

Well, more than her, apparently, because as I was signing out with the dance counter in VIP, he had to go pull her off of the customer she'd passed out on. That's right, she'd fallen asleep during a dance. I had some Crown-colored nights before, but never passed out on a customer. Well, he seemed to be a little buzzed too, and OK with it, because he let the dance continue. Until she threw up.

What a trooper, though: She was back at work on Friday.

I think that PP is one of the few clubs where I've worked where natural-breasted women are soundly in the minority. I'm talking like 80/20 some nights, not the 50/50 you'll see in Austin. One customer complained to me; he really, really disliked fake boobs, and wouldn't stop critiquing every pair of manmades to pass by. I didn't want to be the one to break it to him, but a strip club is probably not the place to go to avoid fake tits.

I'm in Austin this week for my friend Audrey's wedding and will be working at XTC this week. I just bought the hottest sheer pink minidress and can't wait to test it out; it's luscious.

There were people jogging through the strip mall where I stopped for food on my way home from work last night. Jogging. This club is bizarrely located in a pretty nice area of Columbus, from what I can tell (the gas stations and convenience stores are all brand name, there's cute houses nearby), because I have never worked anywhere else where you would see people jogging a block away from the strip club.

I hate working while I'm stressed. It makes it so much less fun. Last night was a perfectly pleasant night, kind of slow, but I just was so not in the mood to talk to strangers. I mean, I sucked it up, because a stripper who won't talk to strangers is a broke stripper. I was just really pleased to get back to the hotel and sit in the bath alone afterwards.

Oh, I did my first 2-girl dance at this club last night--I was concerned about breaking the rules since they're pretty strict at Pure Platinum, but it turned out to be plenty fun anyways. We weren't prohibited from touching each other (not like that, you know, but it was okay to put our arms around each other).

I'll be back tonight; I hope I don't have bizarre and weird stage fright like I experienced last night. I don't know what it is, I just don't like the main stage at this club. It's really large and there's no pole, and the lighting kind of sucks so it's hard to see who's looking at you.

Still like the management, staff, and girls, though. I wish this club was in Cincinnati. Actually, no, I wish we lived in Columbus instead of Cincinnati.

I do feel kind of hot though; I got told I was "a work of art," "perfect," and got a marriage proposal last night. See, this is the great thing about stripping; every dancer gets to hear she's the hottest girl in the club at least once a night. And in this club that is actually a pretty good compliment, as they have some lovely dancers.

Arrgh, I need some new music. Here's the last cd I made for work:

You're So Pretty - We're So Pretty 4:44
Love Is The Key 4:28 The Charlatans U.K.
The Hardest Button To Button 3:32 The White Stripes
The Air Near My Fingers 3:39 The White Stripes
She's Not There 2:26 The Zombies
Time of the season 2:55 The Zombies
Do You Think About Me? 4:10 Waco Brothers
Fast as You 4:48 Dwight Yoakam
Bohemian Like You 3:31 The Dandy Warhols
We Used To Be Friends 3:20 The Dandy Warhols
It's Your Thing 2:51 Isley Brothers
Fight The Power (Pt. 2) 5:17 The Isley Brothers
Somebody Told Me 3:17 The Killers
Michael 3:21 Franz Ferdinand
Club Foot 2:52 Kasabian
Finding Out True Love Is Blind 4:13 Louis XIV
Matinee 4:03 Franz Ferdinand
Take Me To The River 5:02 Talking Heads

I mean, that Charlatans record is like four years old and I'm still dancing to it . . . and geez, the Killers, come on. I need new music.

"Michael," though, well, dancing to songs about gay man sex is always good in the club.

I'm pleased to be heading back to Columbus this week; I'll be working and attending the Frozen Four. Speaking of which, I found this item concerning the club (full story here:
As far as landmarks go in Columbus, the one that seemed to get the most national attention in the sports pages in recent years is Pure Platinum, the strip bar located in the Northwest part of the city (2880 Bethel Road, or so we’ve been told). Two years ago former Chicago Blackhawk Theo Fleury was involved in an infamous 3 a.m. brawl with a group of bouncers outside the neon entertainment complex. Last year, Ohio State tailback Lydell Ross was busted for using counterfeit coupons (we’re guessing these weren’t clipped from the Sunday paper) at the bar and suspended for one game.
Yeah, the club is closed on Sundays, so I guess those coupons came from the Saturday paper. Actually, I bet he was trying to use counterfeit funny money, the stuff the club gives to customers when they take out cash with a credit card to pay the dancers. By the way, just about every club will charge the customer 10% for a cash advance and then only pay the dancers 90% of the funny money's face value, so they make 20% right off the bat.

I haven't been at work much because I have been dealing with a mystery muscle ailment; at first I thought it was a pinched nerve (or MS depending on my mood), then the Dr. in Austin told me it was a slightly compressed disc, now we're back at pinched nerve. Basically, my muscles are so tight that I'm in like, a permanent state of muscle spasm. This means yoga, meditation, and massage is called for. The last one, not a problem, I can easily commit to a good rub on a regular basis. Doing the first two regularly (and otherwise dealing with stress in healthier ways) is going to mean a bit of work. But for a while there I was concerned I wouldn't be able to type, knit, or strip, which would have had me in a bit of a bind. I was really worried for a while and am much relieved that that's not the case and I don't have some kind of repetitive motion injury.

But I'm going to wear shorter heels for less back stress anyway. Fuck it.

I'm happy to return to Cbus; PP is a nice, nice club and I had a lot of fun working there. I don't know if the Frozen Four will significantly impact business but I think it won't matter much.

Then I'll be in Austin again briefly for my friends' wedding; the notorious Audrey Maker, instigator of Burlesque for Peace, is tying the knot with the handsome and talented Carlos Reina, so I'll be down for much of the second week of April.

I need some new stripper outfits. Ideas?