booo!

My first night in Vegas gets an F for fuckin' sucked! Not the worst first night I've had at a new club, but down there. It was easy enough selling dances on the main floor but hard to sell more than one or two, and I had little luck selling VIP; when I finally snagged one, and had him ready to go for the nicest (read $500/hr with a $250/hr bar tab) room in the house, his CC was declined. Actually, they wanted him to call, I'm assuming because of out of town charges, but it wasn't happening. So my night went rapidly from sucky to all right to sucky in the space of half an hour, time for which I was paid exactly nothing. There's really nothing I could have done about that (believe me, I tried to help the guy find alternate CCs or ATM cards), so I just bid him goodnight and then was ready to go.

My traveling partner fared better, though not spectacularly well, and reports from the others at our after-hours breakfast weren't great either, with the exception of one lovely who'd spent four hours in a skybox at Sapphire. We're weighing our options for tonight -- return to the same club, which we are somewhat familiar with at least, or try another? There are so many options here. With clubs that are open 24 hours, you could at any moment be working somewhere.

Oh, also, it's really sunny and warm, and I forgot to pack a swimsuit, so I hung out by the pool in one of my work bikini tops and hot pants (I didn't want to rock a stripper thong poolside).

Anyhow, onward to recoup my remaining travel expenses and start turning a profit -- initial Vegas expenses include not only hotel, airfare, and car, but also a $45 sheriff's card and a $100 business license. You can see a very funny example of the license paperwork on Avalon's site.

Casa Diablo, blowing up the internet

In the Times, and of course, in WW. It's hardly surprising, considering the "huh?" appeal of its tagline.

Sorry the stripper blog has been short on actual stripping lately. I promise I've worked this month, just not much. Oh! Apparently enforcement in Seattle is stepping up, as there's been an influx of WA strippers in town, fleeing the possibility of an arrest for the crime of giving a lapdance. After spotting some new hiresdoing coke in VIP last week, the manager at the big club called the cops and had them arrested. The thinking being that it's better to have the cops come to the club because you called them.

I have been too flaky to remember to put in a little club schedule for the past two weeks (they have to be in by club closing on Wednesday), but finally remembered last night a 2:30 a.m. to call and put in a request. Though now I have friends going to Vegas to work during the Final Four, so I left those days open in case I decide to hop a flight out there.

Also, I'm considering a hair color change, which should indicate how restless I am right now.

I am in that little town Tara mentioned

Tara and HatMa were here last week and she had an interesting time. I usually don't find the time for anything, because, like she mentioned, it's a nine-hour workday and a six-day workweek. It's always worth it, but there's not time for much else than a few hours of errands and online time. I'm not taking a day off to, well, what, drive to Canada? This is the same place where I can listen to the CBC on the radio. I love the radio here; on the FM stations there are all these ads for tractors and weedkillers.

It's been busy so far at the tiny bar and I guess the winter is making these guys a bit crazier than usual. Most of my solicitation offers previously have come from the older guys, the kind I expect to, well, need a hooker. This week they're coming from healthy young men who should be getting plenty on their own, only there's no single women around. The high offer I got was $5K and the low one was $700 for "just some dances, no touching." If I honestly believed that last one, I would have been tempted, but, well, I really don't do that sort of thing. It's flattering to get offered so much. Still, you'd think these dudes would at least break me off a $100 tip or something if they've got that much cash lying around.

The local customers here rule. They bring us dinner and candy and go start our cars at the end of the night so they're all warmed up by the time we leave. They're bar fixtures and nice to have around.

Many of these guys, like myself, are here for the money. Sometimes I get a long look and a "What are you doing here?" I ask what they're doing up here, and they're always working, getting paid enough to come out here. "Just like me!" One of them said, "I came up here for the money, and now I'm trying to get the money to get out," which is eerily similar to many a stripper's plight. Escape, they all want to escape from the little town.

Two couples in their forties were at the rack on Monday while Miss ND, the dancer booker/bartender/dancer was on stage. They weren't tipping, and towards the end of her set she gave them a gentle reminder that they were, of course, sitting at the "tip rail," so named because you fucking sit there to tip. One of these women said, "You can't tell us to tip you! You're just a stupid stripper!" Actually, she can, and she is indeed a stripper. In a strip club, guess who gets to decide what you can do? The stupid stripper! Of course they get kicked out, giving her the finger the whole way (did I mention these women were in their forties?) and then this: "Bitch, if I see you in the street your ass is mine!" To this Miss ND mutters, "If you see me in the street you won't recognize me because I'll have my hair extensions out!" Oh, snap!

I had an hourlong massage yesterday. It was excellent and it cost $40. This was not a massage school, it was from an actual therapist, and that's what you can get a massage for here. Crazy. I wonder if there's, like, bargain plastic surgery or laser hair removal here too in addition to the haircuts, waxing, and massages?

Well, here's one cool thing about being in the Upper Midwest; I got my brows and lip waxed and a trim for $20. Total. It felt like I was in Mexico.

Otherwise it's very, very, very cold and very sunny. I am staying indoors a lot and I am wearing two layers of long underwear. Six consecutive nine-hour days begin in two hours.

Last night I had a dinner conference with Tara and HatMa at the local Applebee's to discuss working conditions in the region. Come to find out that the statewide bowling tournament has brought a lot of people into town the past two weekends and will continue to do so for the next few weeks. The next town over is in a weird way, what with the owner of one strip club and the attorney for another both sitting on the city council and both trying to fuck with the other's business. I wish I'd been here at the same time as them instead of just running into them on my way in and their way out of town but it was still a nice way to start the week here.

I had to buy a phone cord for internet access; my BlackJack won't do because I'm in an extended coverage area, so the data charges would quickly get way out of hand were I to use it as a modem (it's awesome in spots where I have 3G coverage, which is, you know, not here).

Oh, holy fuck, every time the door to this coffee shop opens, I'm hit with a blast of seven degree air. Could be worse, I guess. At least that is seven degrees above.

A witch's tit in a brass bra is probably warmer

The stages and wallets of the Upper Midwest beckon me, which is how less than 12 hours after getting home from a mini-vacation in Lake Tahoe, I'm heading back to the airport to fill in as an emergency backup stripper. This is when those airline miles really come in handy for last-minute work travel. I'm feeling kind of guilty for canceling a couple of Mary's shifts to do it, but I'm sure the cash will ease my conscience somewhat, and a friend was more than willing to take them.

I'm already cold and it's just early morning Portland weather. Time to toughen up a little so I can tolerate the single digit lows out there.