It was Black Friday tonight.
I'll say no more about that.
**********************************************
Its fucking astounding to me hearing some of the shit I have to listen to walking some "girls" out to their car at night. There's a common thread amongst this bitching. Shockingly, its mostly dancers that probably should've retired years ago.
They bitch and moan about how bad the club is now. There's no money. It's not like the 1970's at all. They used to make 3K a night and now they can't make $300. The list goes on and on.
They never bring up the fact that they have grandchildren. Or that their face is like a blueprint for lost opportunities and sadness. They don't make the connection that they were younger when they made good money. And younger, hotter girls now make that kind of money. Just like they used to.
Guys used to be classy. Now they're all assholes.
People used to spend money, now they don't spend money.
Kids today, always grinding.
In my day gentlemen always pulled a chair out for a lady and offered her a fucking buttered scone before we negotiated how disappointed I could make him.
Sometimes I hope the dismembered and fuel laden wing of a 767 would land on the club while I'm arguing with a drunk customer over the $40 he probably doesn't owe a bitch.
Cleansing fire and all, minus Great White of course.
What? Too soon?
My bad.
Anyways...
If you still HAVE to strip to support yourself after 20-30 years in the business, then you've done shit wildly wrong. Anyone with a brain and an ounce of self control, foresight or planning could've taken the hundreds of thousands if not millions of hypothetically tax free dollars you've made in the past few decades and turned it into something called A Comfortable Fucking Retirement.
Maybe not admitting the possibility of advanced age is a defense mechanism against horrible, horrible reality. Getting old sucks. I'm on the ugly side of forty myself so shut up and accept the dark side. Face the fucking facts, brutal as they may be.
Did you think the gravy train was gonna roll on forever? That the Chuckwagon O' Plenty was gonna chase the dogies across the vast plains of Grope Cash into eternity?
Time wages ugly war on strippers.
And it always wins.
You have to realize this going in, never lose sight of it, and for fuck's sake, have a plan. Not my fault your powers are weak, old woman. If you'd bought Apple stock when you started stripping in 1982, you'd be a multimillionaire.
**********************************************
True shit a Stripper asked me tonight.
STRIPPER: "Does that little machine* by the girls room sell cigarettes?"
ME: "You mean that chest high, 500 lb thing with all the knobs and 'Marlboro' blazoned across the front in foot high letters?
ME: Yeah, I think so."
Dumb shit I witnessed tonight:
A random muppet sized drunk idiot came in tonight and couldn't find the mens room with 3 tries and directions. It was like Beeker on ketamine attempting to escape Dr. Munson Honeydew. It was fucking pathetic.
Cellphones and wallets I found tonight:
Three and one.
Insolent, inebriated twatery I beheld tonight:
At this club we don't allow you to put you shit and mud encrusted feet up on tables and chairs like you can at your Aunt Wendy's fucking trailer. I spent a fair amount of time tonight telling people to take their dirty ass feet off of chairs, tables, the fucking stage.
What the fuck kinda place have you been hanging out where its OK to put your feet where people eat food?
Do you do that at Applebee's? What does their staff think about that? Just because there's titties and handjobs doesn't mean you can put your clods all over everything.
Fuck. Try, just for once, having some class.
We have a dress code which we're pretty fucking liberal about. One rule is no hats. NO GODDAMN FUCKING HATS.
But please, feel free to condescend to me when I ask you politely to take it off while in the club. You're totally unaware of the policy and therefore completely justified in being an asshole over a minor detail.
Seriously, question me! Maybe I'm not sure of the rules and you may be exempt from them because of your kick ass belligerent attitude and your totally awesome social skills!
I respect you and your choice of overpriced professional sports team apparel. I can only have a deep and abiding respect for anyone who paid $60 for a fucking baseball hat with a sweet logo on it.
**********************************************************
Warning: Drunk, Unattractive Wives Behaving Sexily!
I call them Rumpled Hausfraus.
Stout, lumpy housewives out having a CRAZY night with their equally annihilated husbands. They suck stripper titty, grab dancer ass like its the Last Box of Twinkies and do lewd and unbelievably repulsive dances for their man or anyone who will sit still long enough to receive their wallowly caresses.
Look how wild and loose they are. You must notice them them because they are wild and free (for a night) and severely hammered. Witness their large pastel briefs and fearsome thongs.
They may have been hot 3 kids ago, but they ain't no more. And shit got fucked up nasty. Like a cruelly mutated bivalve. Or malformed albino children clinging to brown rubber sheets and peering at you from an unkempt hedge.
Shameless and vile.
Das is all,
-Der StrippHerder
*To me a 'little machine' is like a blender, a radio controlled car or a DVD player. I can pick up and throw 'little machines'
