I'm not coming into this installment with any sense of direction or plan of action. I think I'll just mash together some loose ends that I've been wanting to address and make it like a dinner comprised of leftovers. A bit of this and a bit o' that and somehow it'll all satisfy your lurid, ravenous hunger for more StripperHerder.
But where to start?
Oh I know. Pregnant strippers. Yeah, let's start there.
OK. Despite everything a man says when a girl is pregnant, outside of certain avid fetishists, pregnant chicks are not most men's idea of erotic. This is because males are genetically compelled to spread the ole Family Product around on a ambitious level. It is a basic biological fact that the organism that can produce the most offspring has the best chance at its DNA being replicated.
Your balls say "Empty me everywhere" and it takes great strength of character not to bang whatever comes your way.
Therefore, once a female has been impregnated, the Angry Primitive Reptile* part of men's brains shift from JIZZ IN TIL PREGNANT to PROTECT AND SUPPLY WITH NUTRIENTS WHILE SEARCHING FOR SOMETHING ELSE TO IMPREGNATE.
We say nice things to try to make your ordeal more bearable because we're guys and we love you and we realize you're a hormonal stewpot and we can only handle so much crying before contemplating murder/suicide or chucking you down some stairs and so on and so forth.
on the pole, sort of recreating the famous scene from 'Flashdance'
but in a really gross way.
That being said, there's several girls at the club who are in various phases of gestation right now ranging from 'not-showing-at-all' to 'hope-my-thong-holds-the-baby-in'.
There's one girl in the club so far along that the fetus is grabbing tips and stealing cell phones.*
I'm not exaggerating at all except for a little bit.
Its fucking embarrassing. We're supposed to be the number one gentlemen's club in town and we have pregnant girls writhing around on stage and hammering back shots at the bar. We're classy "Cuz we has a-indah plumbin."
I say let's just skip the bulk of the downward spiral and start having donkey shows right now. Fuck it. Why go through years of atrophy, dwindling cash and humiliation? Let's embrace the future now and have Stripper vs. Quadraped Cage Sex Battles like they do in third world countries such as Mexico and Canada.
We'll be like the salmon of high end strip clubs, leaping headlong and enthusiastically past our brethren.
Eh.
I'll grudgingly admit that, just possibly, I might have engaged in a bit of hyperbole* there. But its still really embarrassing to work here sometimes. I've worked at some real shitholes before, titty dive bars where strippers go to die.
But I've never had to tolerate a girl who's fetus is working a different champagne room.
I hear a lot of about this from customers. I also hear a lot about the overall hotness of our current stripper corps which is insanely low.
We Floor Turds hear a lot of gripes about dancers that are overweight, sloppy, geriatric, or just plain ugly. Its not like the industry 10 years ago. The "talent pool" is more of a puddle really, and things keep crawling from the shallow end of it and onto our stage.
Ownership says "Tax em through the door and let them fend for themselves. If they have the skills necessary to survive then good for fucking them."
Unfortunately if that's the club model, then things will never get any better. We'll never again have the level of talent we had a decade ago or more ago. Easily half our current staff would've never even made the cut when this town's party epicenter was in its heyday. The standards at the city's top echelon of clubs was very demanding at the time and they could afford to be.
Now we have dancers on our stage that 10 years ago would've been performing in some unlicensed club operating out of an old chop shop and guarded by an inbred giant with a shotgun.
Its fucking appalling.
You know what I really like? I super-fun-happy like it when a dancer comes rushing up to me babbling about a customer who owes her money and then, when I go to try to resolve the matter, stands screaming at the guy in a constant stream of insults that doesn't allow me to communicate with the customer in question whatsoever.
Better yet when they throw drinks on a guy or just outright attack him with any handy bottle.
In any other establishment on Earth, these girls would get either punched or imprisoned. But in the surreal alter-world of Murna McTwattenRage's Junkie Extravaganza, all sins are forgiven. All killings absolved.*
Fuck this.
-The StripperHerder
*To prove that I do edit myself somewhat, the original title of this installment was going to be "That's Not My Vulva You Feel, I Was Teaching My Fetus To Give Handjobs. Or The Latest Mopping Debate: Tequila-Beer Vomit or Donkey Spunk, What Difference Does It Make As Long As You Make Some Dough?"**
**Told ya.
*The same part of the primal cortex that enjoys ham sandwiches, cold beer, pornography and a lack of nattering voices.
*How pregnant could they possibly be, you ask?
-So pregnant that they and their babies eat at different restaurants.
-So pregnant the their babies sneak out of their hoo-has' at night and meet each other to smoke weed and
make out.
-So pregnant the babies already have their own favorite shots.
-So pregnant the babies are already dealing blow and the dancers don't even know it.
-So pregnant their unborn children have more Facebook friends than them.**
**You get the idea.
*It means exaggeration, you ignorant fuck.
*If you have a vagina.
