I have come to the conclusion that I have an extremely soft touch, because these strippers that danced for me last time were ROUGH! I mean, I was wearing a silk dress, not the most protective gear, but the first dancer I had was rubbing on me so hard I thought I'd get friction burns. Yowch. Hee, the fact that we were in a nude juice bar where most of the dancers were 18-21 might have been part of it (they were mostly novice dancers). One of 'em was truly fuckin' nasty in a fun way; nearly sticking her nipple in my mouth by force (no thanks; I know where it's been) and straddling me backwards and grinding her bare ass into my head. "Yours are real!" one squealed, and helped herself to a squeeze. Heh. My titties are a total novelty in Vegas.

The miss Exotic World kickoff was amazing. It was so wonderful to see true burlesque legends and current stars performing their phenomenal, gorgeous acts, and the audience was just as captivating to watch. I finally met my longtime hero Jo Weldon, who performed a tribute to Honey Harlow, and got to see Liz Renay and Tempest Storm on stage. Just amazing. I wish I could go tonight to see the competition.

Then I was picked up in the extremely hilarious white stretch Hummer limo (after putting a sign that said "I'm an asshole" around my neck) and joined the crew at Deja Vu Showgirls. Lapdances ensued, etc. Now it's off to the spa . . .

I am in Vegas, I am in Vegas, and I am gonna see some insanely great burlesque tonight. It's my very first time here. Oh shit, I haven't gambled yet . . . I will have to hit a slot machine on my way out. And there's a hottie lingerie boutique nearby that I must must must check out . . . I could use a pretty silk slip, I'm thinking. Oh, it's boobies and spa treatments and tasty food for the weekend. Yay!

Here's an interesting article about a USC prof whose nudie photos on Flickr created a stir. There's a line in there that really resonated with me: "Attempting to be taken seriously while also publicly claiming one's sexuality means we walk a tricky line," wrote Rachel Kramer Bussel. Sing it, sister.

Like a fool, I went into work yesterday at 11 a.m. after working until close the night before, and spent most of the day berating myself for coming in, since at 4:30 p.m. I think I'd made about $11. Thankfully the day turned around pretty quickly after that; I sold a dance, got a $20 tip, and then a customer kept me busy dancing solidly until nearly 7 and I actually ended up doing better than the night before. Freaking unpredicatable business, I tell you.

Then, of course, I went out to a rock show, since that's why I'd made myself work during the day in the first place. The Country Teasers were in town last night (despite having recorded their newest album here, the clerk at the local record store said they'd mistaken it for spoken word due to the cover art) at Berbati's Pan. I was talking to a band member who's a friend of mine, and he introduced me to the studio owner's "old lady." I went back to talk to her, thinking, "Susan, you know no one in this city and she seems cool. Go talk to her. Pretend like you're friendly and not entirely antisocial."

So we're chatting, she's telling me about Portland real estate, how they loved moving up here from California, about how the studio has room to house the bands, which she's glad to be able to do since so many people helped her out back when she was on the road.

"What band were you in?" I ask, wondering if I'd heard them.
"The Thinking Fellers Union Local 282," she says, and my jaw hits the floor, opening to allow the beginnings of a "Oh, my god, I loveyouguysyouwerethebestbandofthe90sblahdeblah" gush. I actually said, "I am going to email one of my friends who will be sooooo jealous I met you." It was so awesome. And I immediately was totally self-conscious and in geek band-adoring mode. They released some of the best albums in the 90s and were a frequently amazing live act. My more musically adventurous readers--well, those people are probably the friends of mine who read this blog and therefore are already intimately familiar with them--but the rest of you should absolutely check them out. I recommend starting with Mother of All Saints.

Also the Country Teasers rocked and the sound was excellent. Well worth the exhaustion.

Oh, this state is so brilliant! That's one of the best ideas I've ever heard.

I'll be heading out to the East Coast to work for most of June; I'll be in Philadelphia at the Crazy Horse Too starting June 6th. It's going to be an interesting trip; the traveling dancers stay in a condo together, so I'm crossing my fingers that my potential roomies are, oh, I don't know, not crazy. I know, from the internet, the woman I'll be sharing a room with and am confident she'll be fine but who knows about the others?

It seems like business is slowing, whether because of the sunshine or the insane drink price hike at the club I don't know (I don't think you can get away with $6 for a draft Mirror Pond in Portland). It's been decent enough for me, but the last two Fridays have been worse than Monday nights. Definitely quieter than last month.

One of the dancers was talking about her upcoming entry into pharmacy school, and this started a conversation about the opportunities available to young, attractive women in pharmaceutical sales, a career path undertaken just as often as real estate by enterprising former dancers. "You can make so much money doing that; the doctors ask for the hot girl, you know?" she said.

"I want to sell drugs!" said her friend. Hee. Also a career path for dancers.

The guy who tipped me to talk politics last week was back in this past Saturday and we hung out for a couple of hours. He insists that doing dances is against his rules, but this time made it clear he wanted me to make him break those rules (potentially so he could absolve himself of culpability because hey, I made him do it, as he was under the influence of Bud Light and my intoxicating presence). He took care of me and I had a blast hanging out with him; I'm bummed I won't be around this weekend as he's a really refreshing customer. A bit of a smartass and all, and really, really bright.

Annnnnd it's off to Vegas this Friday afternoon for a couple of days. I can't wait to get out there, meet my internet stripper friends, and see some posh clubs. And hopefully eat a couple of insanely good meals and place a few bets. It'll be a quick, quick trip though. Back to work on Monday for my last week in Portland for a month. It's kind of funny that I moved up here in part for the nice summer weather and now I'm going to go sweat in Philly.

What an utterly bizarre and slow weekend it was; it was so bad the bouncer walking me to my car last night asked me why I thought it had been so quiet. There’s plenty of things I could cite, I guess, but the fundamental reason is it’s the bar business and therefore erratic. And I can’t really complain; although my Friday was evil and slow, Saturday was decent and fun. Though I was exhausted still from Wednesday.

For about two hours yesterday there were only three of us, which meant stage sets just about every twenty minutes, which is exhausting and bad. I was resting at the bar, talking to a customer, trying to get him to go for a dance, and had to hop up again. After my set he pointed to a couple of bills on the bar and said “That’s for you.” There was a $1 on top and a $20 on the bottom, a nice gesture, and I said, “Oh, thank you!” He said, “Take a closer look,” which I guess meant my response wasn’t as enthusiastic as he expected. Whoops. “I did, honey, thank you,” followed by a peck on the cheek. We sat there, talked politics (“So, what do you hate most about the president?”) and he slipped me $20s under $1s until he left. It was a lovely and distracting start to the night.

This customer, by the way had been in the night before and one of his friends bought him a dance from me (the friend sent another dancer to find him a girl; she bypassed the one already sitting with him for whatever reason and sent me to get him which was a little awkward but hey, I asked permission); the first song was “Don’t Fear the Reaper,” and he asked, “Do you know who sings this?” Well, of course, what stripper doesn’t know BOC? “And by the way, don’t get started on music trivia with me, because I will kick your ass.” And I will. That’s an open challenge to all of you.

I can still name each and every customer I danced for last night because there were only four of them, with the bulk of my earnings coming from two customers who were wonderful company; an Italian and a musician who I was sadly ripped from for yet another stage set. I am so glad I only had to deal with fun customers last night because my nerves are still shot, and they were completely pleasant company. Oh, except for the one Mexican customer who wanted to know if he could bring me flowers, and what it took to get a woman like me. I gave him my smartass answer, because the sincere one is boring (be attractive, intelligent, funny, and have great chemistry) and of course because I am the only woman like me. I swear, I am going to start answering that question with, “Well, the last guy I took home from the club came in and spent $600 on me once a week for about four months. I’m not saying it works for everyone, but it helped him,” just to shut them up.

So much quieter than my nice and busy weekend last week; we’ll see what’s coming up. I’m heading to Vegas for my first ever trip there Memorial Day weekend, by the way, and am open to suggestions on how to gamble effectively and good futures bets to make at the sports book.

Preparing for Miss Nude Oregon 2006



All over, whew.

Back to normal work this weekend.

I was totally exhausted today but dragged myself in anyhow. I even brought my knitting with me in case I decided all I wanted to do was sit in the dressing room between sets. Right off the bat, though, a customer at the rack from my first stage set was ready for dances. I did a few, we talked a bit, about what we studied in school and what we do now.

"Oh, poli-sci, huh? So do you think we live in an oligarchy now?"
"No, but I think if Hilary Clinton is elected we'll be living in a plutocracy. Oh my God, I can't believe I'm having this conversation here with you."
"Oh, baby, I'll tell you a dirty sex story to make up for it."
"No, it's cool!" Ooh, what a perv. Couple more dances. He was a cutie, too, so it was a lovely way to start off the evening.

And just about the only lovely thing about it. In this club, more often than not, you sell each customer you dance for 2-5 dances. I must have been terrible tonight because I was in and out of the fucking couch room doing one damn dance at a time all night.

But hey, I'm better off that that girl who was back there for ten songs with one guy, only to follow him to the ATM which was busted . . .

I also met two SW members today, one who is dancing at my club and one who is a customer, both of whom are very, very lovely and personable.

And the DJ got drunk and said,

"Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, man, sure."

"Oh, I don't know."

"No, go ahead."

"Okay . . . what's up with the bush?"

"Uh . . . . "

"Oh, man, I shouldn't have asked."

"No, that's cool. It's my personal preference. Uh, why? Do you find it unusual or unattractive?"

"No! No!"

I threatened to go home and shave it all off in shame, hee hee. I love my DJ.