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Are You Smarter Than A Stripper? Take This Test And Find Out! Or, "Gimme My Whuppin Stick, Billy. I Have To Go Into The Dressing Room After The Free Tequila Party."




  Strippers don't think like rational human beings at all. I've witnessed this first hand many times and just when I think nothing can surprise me any more, some dazzlingly stupid dancer will prove me wrong. They are faced with a lot of adversity when it comes to making good decisions and the industry itself discourages girls from gaining independence,


  In their quest to find a balance between being able to pay their bills and doing it in an industry that doesn't make them a drunk junkie whore, a dancer will encounter many obstacles. Chief among them are:



1) Dancers are often very young and therefore, naturally stupid. I was stupid when I was young, you were stupid when you were young and we (probably) didn't work a job that encouraged us to get hammered and naked for cash.


  Think how hard a time you would have adjusting to any other occupation after you were able to make 6 digits a year by getting wasted, sexually objectified and offered all kind of drugs.


  It's amazing that anyone gets out of this system alive or with a college degree for that matter.



2) Strippers don't pay taxes. They have tits and obviously feel that this is good enough. Entertainers on the other hand, do pay their taxes and that is because (in this context at least) they are smart strippers. Entertainers are the girls who use stripping as a means to an end, such as paying for college, or supplemental income that they invest wisely. They realize that claiming some if not all of their tips will count as provable income, thus raising their credit score and enabling them to obtain credit at non crippling interest rates.


  Strippers, as opposed to Entertainers, never claim tips and gripe about how they can't get a car loan for anything more than $2500 at 29% interest. All they see is the cash they make and they can't fathom how someone who makes as much dough as they do, can't get credit. Strippers also run a much higher risk of getting audited by the IRS and when that happens they get fucked. Proper fucked.



3) Strippers are frequently on a lot of drugs. I'm not talking about weed here folks, all of them smoke weed. I'm referring to hardcore, debilitating, soul ravaging drugs. Now don't get me wrong here, I believe each and every person has the right to do whatever drugs they choose to do whenever they want to do them, provided they are willing to live/die with the consequences of their decisions.


  I myself have done damn near every drug that didn't require a needle or crackpipe to do and have managed to come through all of it mostly intact (for all intents and purposes). I do however take exception to being around other humans who are whacked on heavy drugs and people doing drugs in my place of employment, so I get cunty about it whenever I get the opportunity to do so. I feel everyone should have the common courtesy to go out to their cars to do their drugs and not consume them in the club bathrooms.




  So taking all these factors into account, and others I haven't even mentioned, let's see how you fare in your thinking compared to the average stripper.



 
Ready?









1) You've just made $1500 in a champagne room. Your rent is due, you have no car and your Victoria's Secret card is maxed out. You:


   

   A) Go shoe shopping!


   B) Pay the rent, save at least $400 toward a car and throw however much else you can spare at your credit card debt, while working as many shifts as you can for the next few weeks.

  
  C) Suck off your landlord for free rent, buy enough coke to kill 3 lead singers and binge out for the next week then spend the rest on your useless, unemployed boyfriend/bebbydaddy.


  D) Take 9 days off and return to work when you've spent all $1500 on anything besides your bills.







2) Despite you lower-than-average IQ you realize that you can't keep stripping forever. Although you don't really understand what 'exit strategy' means per se, you sometimes think that someday you might have to retire from the industry and will require other means of support. Your plan for that day is:


  
  A) To marry a rich guy, even if he's Arab.


  B) To overdose long before that happens.


  C) To have earned a Master's degree in a meaningful and well paying field from your hard earned and rigorously budgeted Stripper days.


  D) To get knocked up by an NFL Wide Receiver and get paid handsomely to raise his unwanted child.






3) You've been drinking a lot on the job lately and coupled with the unrelenting munchies you get from smoking idiotic amounts of weed and the resulting desire to sleep and watch TV that this engenders, you've put on quite a few pounds. You:


 A) Say 'fuck this, my livelihood depends on my attractiveness' and start eating better and going to the gym.


  B) Start doing meth because all the other meth girls are skinny


  C) Buy bigger outfits and pay someone to shave your coochie when you can no longer reach it.


  D) Just start dancing for black guys. Duh.






4) You're dancing for a guy in a private room when without any warning whatsoever he whips out his pecker. You:


  A) Smack it like a wayward child and tell him not to take it out again.


  B) Giggle, take it in your hand and offer a variety of sex acts for varying amounts of cash. State in no uncertain terms that you don't accept personal checks.


  C) Leave the room immediately and tell a Floor Host who will either issue a warning or throw the fucker out. Either way you get your money because the rooms are paid for in advance. 

   Move on to next customer.


  D) Wrestle it to the ground like an unruly ferret, punch the guy in his yam-bag and demand a tip.






5) Another dancer vultured a customer from you while you were on stage. You deal with this by:


  A) Confronting the poaching dancer at your earliest opportunity and tell her how having a customer stolen from you in an underhanded fashion makes you feel. Use lots of hand gestures and upward inflections.


  B) Corner the bitch in the dressing room and ruin her face with an aggressively wielded 6 inch heel.


  C) Make a huge fucking scene in front of the whole club. Be sure to use lots of profanity, threatening postures and tears. 


  D) Do the same thing to her and smile while doing it. Whenever practical, tip the Floor Guys to ruin your adversary's night-they delight in it and are devious and ruthless when in your employ.






6) The Manager just fined you for breaking a rule you were well aware of but chose to ignore anyway because for some inexplicable reason, you think you're the shit. You respond to the fine by:


  A) Crying to the point you piss yourself and then trying to hug the Manager when he rescinds the fine out of sheer disgust. It's not hard if you're drunk enough and you won't remember it the next day any way.


  B) Call the club owner and whine and complain to him and threaten to quit. Owners want lots of dancers working at their clubs and are therefore extremely receptive to your groundless bitching. 


  C) Pay the fine and stop being a tedious cunt.


  D) Completely ignore the fine and let the Manager know that you're completely ignoring the fine. Maybe raise an eyebrow or something to show your disdain. You know they always back down even as they tell all the other employees that they're going to fire you.





7) You've just attacked a much smaller dancer over $38 and it's become pretty obvious she's dead. You:


  A) Call the Japanese business man that you service outside of the club. He will take the corpse off your hands discreetly and for a handsome profit. When questioned claim ignorance about slain dancer's whereabouts. Remember to clean blood spatter first.


  B) Hide the body and contact your Uncle who is a high ranking Mobster/Aryan Brotherhood/Ghetto Kingpin/Archbishop and/or Russian/Latino Human Trafficker. Tip all potential witnesses generously and make sure to tell them about your Uncle...


  C) Try to convince the House Mom to help you stuff her body down a shower drain.


  D) Wash off the gore and go about your business. Pretty girls always get away with it.






8) A man who is clearly wearing a bullet proof vest under his polo shirt gets a dance from you. During that dance you:


A) Blow him immediately because he's law enforcement and your parents taught you to respect the police.


B) Offer him a dazzling array of sex acts for bargain prices.


C) Fail to do or even suggest anything illegal. Completely abstain from grinding your crotch against his like you're trying to start a fire.


D) Try to sell him cocaine.





  
9) Really bad strip clubs can be like a Supermax prison; the strippers band into gangs for both mutual survival and control of certain facets of the club economy. These various factions*1, like their correctional institution counterparts, can be extremely vicious when defending their turf. 

  Having learned that you inadvertently snaked one of the more feared Latina dancer's customer and she has sworn blood vengeance, you:


A) Flee town immediately. It's easier to just pack up and leave and start over again somewhere else than have to listen to rapid fire Spanish cursing and avoid dagger-like acrylic nails for the rest of your career.


B) Offer the Barbie Clan protection money. It's better than dying.


C) Bang the owner. All of your problems will just disappear.


D) Spike the bitches Patron with some rat poison. That will gain you respect in the yard.






10) Because you have a difficult time being original and enjoy the security, in and out of the club, of being a member of the herd, you decide to have the side of your torso tattooed with some deep, inspirational shit, yo. The message scrawled across you ribs and waist will be:



A) The names of your children and their birth dates. Because, you know, sometimes you forget about stuff.*2


B) The Serenity Prayer


C) Some crap about how sensual, mysterious and unique you are. With misspellings of course.


D) A list of high end luxury name brands.




 
So, how'd you do?



  Since I'm not going to post the answers, you'll have to figure it out for yourself. Try some heroin maybe. It might make the answers more clear.




Gut Nite
-The StripperHerder






*Examples include: The Barbie Clan (With Assorted Non-Blond Extras), PMS-13: The Angry Latinas, The PsychoDyke Sisterhood, Eastern Eurotrollops, Drunk Loudmouth Italian Girls, The Needle Finger Janes, Association For The Advancement Of Plain Looking Bitches, SpeedShank Skanks, OG's (Old Gals)**


        **A brief study in strip club gang culture will be the subject of it's own post in the near future. Way too good to pass up.





*2 As if the stretch marks weren't a clue.

Conglomeration Post #9: A) The Situation In My Apartment, Which Is Just Fucking Horrible. B) Stupid Stripper Tricks, Vol. III. And C) How Being In A Strip Club Makes Everything More Valuable.




  I am a slob. It's not a fact I'm proud of, but it is indeed, a fact.


  I live in squalor, not because I'm too poor to give a shit or live in a third world country, but because I never clean anything. Finally bagging heaps of trash and hauling them out to the dumpster is what passes for 'cleaning' in my reality.


  And while I'm horribly embarrassed by the thought of anyone seeing the horrid, reprehensible shambles I dwell in, rather than actually clean it up, I just forbid any living creature entrance to it and go about my business.


  I'm somewhat ashamed to say that one of the few reasons I could use a wife in my life is to pick up after me and do obscure bits of tidying, such as vacuuming, dusting and I think it's called 'washing dishes'. Oral sex would be nice too, but is only worth it if I never have to do anything or go anywhere I don't want to, which has proven to be impossible in previous relationships.


  I don't do any of that housekeeping stuff but have become remarkably adept at circumventing the need to do them. For instance I only use paper plates and plastic cutlery. I always wear socks so random shit littering my carpet doesn't stick to my bare feet and I burn a lot of incense and use those outlet powered Air Wick thingies to combat the smell of neglect and ambivalence that dominates my abode.


  I figure my apartment is clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be happy and if it hasn't killed me yet, it isn't likely to do so any time soon. Therefore I just go with it...




  I endeavor to find holistic solutions to the problems caused by me slobbishness. For example I have a rice moth infestation in my apartment from when someone left a large box of free food sitting on my apartment stoop and I brought it in and ate some of it. The only difficulty I had with this free food is that it contained a bag of rice, which I don't really like very much and this bag of rice was inhabited by rice moth larvae.


  I didn't discover this fact until I had small, annoying moths zooming all over my apartment. I figured at first that they were just some seasonal aberration and would go away with the onset of winter. I was horribly wrong of course and the fuckers just keep multiplying and fluttering about.


  Its fucking maddening.


  So one day I got fed up and set out to uncover the source of these cocksucking moths. It didn't take long for me to look in the cupboard where I stashed food I wasn't likely to eat anytime soon so long as a Burger King remained open within a ten mile radius of me, and low and behold, there was the one pound bag of white rice crawling with tiny worm thingies.


  This bag was like an entire civilization of pre-moths. It moved. There were tiny malls.


  So, like any person who hates maggot-like organisms, I threw it away and figured that soon my moth problem would go away and I could again focus my rage on Russian poker players. Well, that was like 2 years ago and the moths are still here.


  I've started naming them because with the way my life is going, they're as close to a meaningful pet as I'm ever likely to get. Nevertheless I would enjoy having a moth-free environment again as they tend to fly into my eyes and mouth frequently and I'm kinda tired of that.




  So fortunately for me, my seasonal fruit fly invasion has proven clearly hostile to the moths; they don't get along at all. It is open warfare on a really small scale in my living space and luckily for me it's virtually silent or I would be forced to give a fuck or even take sides.


  Their aerial warfare is like watching a squadron of ME-109's descending on a flock of B-25s; brief, one sided and visceral.


  At this point the larger, fluffier fliers still appear to have the upper hand, but I don't think they'll hold on to it for very long. Have you ever tried to get rid of a fruit fly infestation? The little bastards are unbelievably resistant to almost any effort to destroy them. You can take their food, you can make your apartment cold as a penguin refuge, you can coat every square foot of your space in undiluted bleach, but still the wee cunts find a way to persevere and float around annoying the piss out of you.




  The best outcome I can hope for at this point is the the fruit flies conquer the rice moths and either we reach a detente, or I ally myself with the enormous population of spiders that inhabit every neglected corner of my abysmal cave and convince them to escalate hostilities on the fruities.


  I've thought about introducing bats to end my flying insect dilemma, but then I would need to install a larger predator into my realm to consume the bats and things would just spiral out of control from there. At some point I would need grizzly bears or orcas to balance my ecosystem, and quite frankly my apartment is too small to comfortably host those critters.



   So for the time being I live in a quiet, self contained battlezone.



   I feel like David Attenborough.*1










   So if you hang out in bars, or have a similar app on your phone then you're familiar with 'What A Mess', or 'Underwater Mess', both of which are games that feature an image jam packed with random items of which you must find a specified list of items.


   Don't know what I'm talking about? Then continue in darkness, you fucking Luddite and pray the world gets less technical. Good luck.



  To all of you who know what I'm referring to, here's the StripperHerder version of 'What A Mess'.





  In the following picture can you find.....?













1) A catfish

2) A pile of .40 caliber rounds*2

3) An outdated cellphone

4) A gay-ass Ed Hardy lighter that I found on the floor of the club

5) A holster for a 9mm handgun*3

6) The cure for ebola*4

7) A Taco Bell sauce packet

8) A waterproof pill container

9) A bible*5

10) A phone bill

11) A platinum ring*6

12) The recipe for a weaponized form of bleu cheese.*7

13) A pouch containing a toe bone of St. Herve the Bard and a petrified piece of the wolf feces it was found in.*8 Absolutely priceless to Catholics.











                        Stupid Stripper Tricks, Vol III




  Strippers can be shady as hell. I know that this is shocking to you, average reader and I apologize if it tarnishes the image of the happy-go-lucky, heart of gold stripper you often see portrayed in movies. I'm sure that for some of you finding out that strippers can be drug crazed, criminal scum-whores is like finding out that the Easter Bunny is a pedophile or that the Tooth Fairy carries a hammer and a strainer....


  But alas, it's true. They can be diabolical.




  So let's run down some of the more typical stunts in their bag of twicks. It should be fun.




Just Passing Through: Migrant strippers are a nuisance species which plague the industry not unlike locusts plagued ancient farmers. The roam from city to city like a vampire bat flits from cow to cow, stealing nourishment from the local villagers.


  Migrants are a pain in the ass for every single layer of the strip club shit-cake. They are generally pretty good looking which is how their evil works. They can descend upon a town and work at a different club every night, burning their bridges behind them without a care in the world. A frequent scam of theirs is to audition at a club and work there that night only, but to tell the management that they'll be there all weekend. Thus when they sneak out at the end of the night, having tipped no one because they'll never see them again, and having skipped out on the house fees they owed, there's no repercussions for them at all.


  JPT's also take a bite out of the regular staff's pocket garter by stealing dances from them. The regular staff is there for the club on schedule (for the most part), so to hire itinerant strippers is kinda a shitty thing to do really. They have no allegiance to the club and no interest in making friends or a positive impression.


  They play the system and they win.


  If managers were smarter they's make these girls pay a 'deposit' house fee, refundable at the end of the night provided she pays out accordingly. But I've never seen that happen and probably never will.


  This are a dumb industry.



The Bait and Switch: Two girls come through the door wanting to audition. One is really hot and the other is.........not. The girls make it clear that they are a duo, the usual excuse being because one girl is the other's ride, or some such nonsense. Even if this is the truth, it will always turn out that the ugly one has the car and legal right to drive.


  Well, you want the hot girl on your staff so despite your deep, tormented misgivings you hire her, and by extrapolation, her overweight hobbit sidekick. The manager who's been around the block a few times recognizes at this point that he's probably going to be saddled soon with a dumpy halfling in a thong which creates a cloud of discomfort wherever it's unnaturally large and hairy feet take it.


  Sans hot friend of course. She's moved on to helping one of her other equally repugnant friends land a job.


  Baiters work on the same principle as Migrants except that they may be willing to stick around for a few more days to make sure their much less attractive friends become firmly entrenched in the new club's flesh. Like some kind of arboreal parasite. Then they flee and leave the dumpster behind.







        How a Strip Club Makes things more valuable





  I used to work with this bartender. She was hot as fuck and mediocre at bartending, but to most clubs hotness is valued more than competency so she was able to keep her job despite the fact that Stephen Hawking would've been  more effective behind the bar.


  Her go-to move when she was drunk and thought a customer was attractive was to reach across the bar and rip his shirt open. I don't know why she did it, apparently she figured this would make her seem highly desirable to said club patron and would get her laid or something.


  A lot of guys let this go because she was a hot chick and she had just ripped their shirt open and I'm sure that many of them ended their night with their penis redolent with her vaginal fragrance.


  It was a win-win.


  But a few guys took exception to a bartender destroying their clothing and complained loudly to the managers. "This is a $200 shirt and she just ruined it! I want the club to reimburse me!"


  In other instance I've had guys come up to me complaining that they'd lost $4000 earrings, or a $10,000 watch, or a $6000 bracelet. I act concerned and then go out for a smoke because I don't care in the first place and more importantly, don't believe them in the second.


  Yeah, your $35 K&G shirt is suddenly worth $200. And your faux diamond earrings jumped to $4000 value the second you walked through the door. Everything becomes more expensive the moment you walk through the doors of a strip club and the conniving strippers have stolen it from you.


  It amuses me to no end.



A) I don't give a fuck if it cost you $10 or $10,000. Go eat a dog cock. If you actually cared about it in the first place you would've never lost it or let a deranged titty beast destroy it.


B) If you're dumb and materialistic enough to pay WAY too much for something that has no intrinsic value in a real world situation then you deserve to lose it. Stop being an elitist twatburger.


C) In all my years of hearing customer complaints of this nature, strippers were involved in about .30% of the cases. All the others were just a drunk customer losing stuff because he was drunk. In the cases where his shirt WAS ripped open/off by a stripper/bartender, it wasn't worth anywhere near $200. It was a Steve Harvey at best.


























*1 Except bigger, fatter, drunker, angrier and 100% less British.



*2 You're wrong. The pile in the photograph are .45 ACP rounds. You suck.



*3 Wrong again! That's a Taurus Judge holster. You still suck.



*4 Just to the left of the westernmost crackers.



*5 The bible is a bunch of worthless paper, don't you see it?



*6 It's poking out from underneath the crappy gum.



*7 Just in case the French get uppity again.


*8 St. Herve the Bard was a blind storyteller and historian reputed to have traveled with a domesticated wolf, and indeed he did. But one particularly harsh winter the wolf decided it wasn't quite domesticated enough to not eat Herve and decided it was just wild enough to survive that winter.**


       **This is all true, look it up.***



                   ***Well except for the part about the wolf eating him, I'm made that up. That doesn't mean that it may not be true however, the records are pretty vague...