Wow. Just wow.
I thought she was immortal. I thought there was a good chance that her evil could only be ended by decapitation and perhaps burning the body and mixing the ashes into some Patron XO and feeding it to her surviving clan-sisters. Or some other such folk stripper remedy. I really felt like I would be burdened by her presence until the end of my 'herdin days.
But
I
Was
Wrong!
This is now a national Stripperherder holiday*1. Floor Gobs everywhere-rejoice!*2 This is how the Munchkins felt when the house fell on the Wicked Witch of the West. I'm so giddy I feel like burning my town down, the traditional display of happiness to something really swell happening locally.
Elsie and her fetid brat-mortar are gone. I'm not even sure it's fully sunk in yet. It's like living in a dream that you're enjoying but are lucid enough to realize that you're going to have to wake up sooner or later and the absolute bliss you are feeling will be exchanged for the blunt realities of real life.
Still, it's a great day, have a drink with me...
Slainte!
In other news...
We have had a population explosion of strippers in recent months. It's like a biblical plague but with more boobies, thongs, car accidents and bottle fights. I'm not sure what the hell is going on, it's like what would happen to rural deer populations if hunting bans were instituted. There would be herds of starving, ravenous and drunk deer all over the countryside breaking into houses, robbing liquor and feed stores and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Fuckin up your vegetable garden and puking in your truck sorta stuff.
As I've said before a strip club really IS an ecosystem, albeit an economic one. It works on the same basic principle as an environmental ecosystem, i.e. it simply can't support more life than it can feed. But this basic principle has no bearing on any club's hiring practices, not even in this most wretched of months.*3
A club*4 will always hire average and above average strippers whenever it has the opportunity to do so regardless of how many dancers it currently has working for it. I agree with this practice because it allows a club to cull some consistent problem dancers from the herd, thus freeing up valuable resources which can then be used to keep a younger, hotter and less trainwrecky dancer in it's employ.
The problem arises when a club hires on a bunch of new dancers, but doesn't fire enough of the more disreputable booze hags to balance things out. At this very moment at the club I work at now, there's at least 5 strippers who should be
And this would be sad. Like a bunny rabbit being stoned to death for a crime it didn't commit and couldn't possibly understand.
All I'm saying is that management could do a better job of eliminating onerous twats when it's handed a golden opportunity like the current flood in the local talent pool. Have they got rid of a couple of key strife generators recently?
Yes they have and I applaud them for it.
But why not make a clean sweep and terminate the fuck out of some really deserving dancers, 5 or 6 of which generate 80% of the bullshit and less than a percent of income.
Say it with me Managers:
1) "You're fired."
2) "Go clean out your locker."
3) "Or I will have a Floor Beast rip it off the wall and throw it out into the street."
4) "Followed by you."
5) "I'll even disable the cameras while he does it so he can be extra mean."
6) "Then I'll call
7) "And I'll kill your cat."
I mean, it's just that easy. There's more than enough new talent at the club to compensate for the 'loss' of a few swaybacked lurches that bedevil the passageways and chambers of our club. Out with the trash and in with the treasure.
Amazing True Tales Of Abject Human Stupidity!
I realize a lot of my blog depends on the never ending fountain of mankind's idiocy for material, and in this at least, I am never disappointed. I am privileged to witness some breathtakingly dumb people doing their thing in their natural habitat, and I thank a fictional god for the experience. Not only does it give me stuff to write about, but it makes me realize how much better off I am intellectually and judgmentally than a large percentage of the population, even if most of them have more money than me despite this.
So here are two stories of abject human stupidity that have happened while I was working in the last three months or so. Please enjoy them as much as I did.
1) So one day I'm just standing there, looming over no one in particular and doing absolutely nothing when an older gentleman heads toward the door in a hurry, pursued by our most tireless rip off artist, whom I'll refer to as Notorious T.I.P. As in "Yeah that pays for the dances, but where's my tip?"
Well, Ms. T.I.P., at this club, tipping a dancer on top of whatever a dance costs is not mandatory.
His side of the story was that Notorious did two dances for him, but that he had paid her for the first one prior to the dance, and had paid for the second at the end of the two dances. As I start digging into the sordid details, hearing both sides of the story, it turns out that the guy had made the cardinal mistake of giving her money for a dance while they were still on the floor, not in the separate dance room where the magic happens.
SO in her twisted, greedy mind this was a tip, not a prepayment for an upcoming dance. They enjoy two romantic, meaningful songs together and when they're done he hands her another $25 for the second dance (on top of the $25 he'd paid her while still on the floor). She starts badgering him about more money, claiming that he gave her the first $25 as a tip. He tries to explain that the first time he handed her money it was for a dance they were about to do, not (he was very clear about) as a tip.
We go back and forth a while and I check with the Counter about how many dances Notorious did and he said "two". Therefore, in my mind, this guy was free and clear. He had given her a total of $50 (she admits that) for two dances and regardless of how she viewed the matter*5, the correct amount of dough had changed hands and he was free to go about his business and continue to make poor decisions.
But my manager, Sir Rupert Von Hag-narok VI said the poor bastard had to pay for another dance, truth-be-damned-we-have-a-cop. So eventually the schmuck shells out a third helping of $25 for $50 worth of services rendered. He went through the usual litany of unhappy customers everywhere, i.e.: "I'm never coming back here, I'll never spend another dime here, I am displeased with your customer service, You guys are just a bunch of amoral highwaymen whose breath reeks of cock and shite" etc etc.
I agreed with him except for the cock and shite bit. And as I stood outside and had a smoke while he used our excessively difficult and foul tempered ATM, I considered telling him so as he exited the club. As he left I opted not to tell him I was sympathetic to his plight because Notorious T.I.P. is, well, notorious for this. Her code of ethics would fit in much better across town at Jill's Crab Shack, the abominable shithole I used to work at. Or possibly as an alpha female in a cackle of hyenas that had just discovered meth tastes like baby lions.
I am very glad I didn't say anything to him because here's where the abject stupidity part comes into play.
Not fifteen minutes later this guy comes back in through the front door and I figure he's there for one of two reasons:
A) To bitch and complain some more in a hopeless attempt to get his money back or make himself feel less like a scrot-less twat. Or,
B) To shoot me in the face once or twice before going after the manager or dancer or anyone else who happened to be close by.
I was pretty relieved when he went with "C", Neither.
It turned out that he had returned to get another dance from Notorious.
Now I know that many of you reading this totally don't understand what the hell is going on right now, so we're going to go to a slow motion replay of my conversation with this moron to try to shed more light on the subject.
This conversation occurred just after I realized I wasn't going to be shot to death in a strip club lobby and had patted him down to be sure, and just before my mind surrendered and said 'Holy fuck he's serious.'
Here's our exchange as it happened after he failed to execute me and I had patted him down to ensure it wasn't a future option:
ME) "Did you forget something? Need to close out a tab or something?"
FUCKING IDIOT) "No, I want to get another dance from her."
ME) "Excuse me?"
FUCKING IDIOT) "I want to get another dance from her. I can't help it. She's so beautiful."*6
ME) "I'm sorry, you what?" At this point my head was cocked to the side, like an adorable puppy that has heard a weird sound. Super cute, probably. "Weren't you just bitching about getting ripped off and saying how you'll never spend another dime in here not fifteen minutes ago?"
FUCKING IDIOT) "Yeah. But I don't know, there's just something about her. I just....I just want to get another dance from her and apologize about the misunderstanding. I like her."
ME) "I. Wait. You....you just. I mean...Didn't you...She fucking....Seriously? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
FUCKING IDIOT) "I'm sorry man. She's just so beautiful. I'm sorry."
ME) "Dude, I can find you a half dozen hotter chicks in thirty seconds who DON'T have to strap on a nosebag when they're eating lunch. Let me help you."
FUCKING IDIOT) "No...I. She's just special. I gotta go find her." And he scampers into the club.
ME) "Fuck me. That was the single most fucked up thing I have ever witnessed that didn't involve an edged weapon or radio controlled cucumber."
"I Fucking Hate Saturdays."
This was honestly a first in my 18 years or so in this industry. Cheers!
2) Imagine for a moment, gentle reader, that you are a prostitute. You masquerade as a dancer and indeed, the occupation is the perfect camouflage for your true profession with the added bonus that you can sometimes make good money without even having to take a stranger's penis in your body.*7
So keeping the "I'm sexually rentable" point of view going what, as a hooker, is the one thing you don't want your johns to know? Like, the most important thing you should never let them find out?
If you answered "Where I live?" with an uncertainty laden upward inflection, then you are one smart dick-scabbard indeed. For is it not written "Crazy bastards who don't know where you live can't break into your house and rape and kill you."?
Yup, it's written somewhere and it's true.
So, imagine my complete and utter shock when one of our resident whoo-ers was hiding and all creeped out by one of her regulars that was asking all the Floor Guys where she was. I asked her what the deal was as she came out of a champagne room wiping her chin and it went something mostly like this:
RENT-A-HOLE) "Is that old creepy guy still looking for me?"
ME) "You mean the wizened yet somehow still sinister looking geriatric who's staring at you from across the room with undisguised hunger and lust?"
"Yup."
RENT-A-HOLE) "Oh shit, man! He is totally freaking me out!"
ME) "What the hell is going on that he's freaking you out so bad? You could probably take him out in a fight if you had to. Aim for his hip, probably brittle as toffee."
RENT-A-HOLE) "Dude, he just showed up to my house uninvited last week. He was asking me if I wanted to go out and my boyfriend was right there and started yelling at him and he went away. It freaked me the fuck out. What would've happened if my boyfriend wasn't there?"
ME) "How the hell did he know where you live? Did he follow you home one night?"
RENT-A-HOLE) "Oh, no. We went out to dinner*8 a few nights before and he picked me up from my house."
ME) "Really? Fascinating. Is your boyfriend's last name Felcher?"
RENT-A-HOLE) "What?"
ME) "Nothing. Is your boyfriend a big guy, capable of subduing that lecherous grey gnome if he had to?"
RENT-A-HOLE) "No, he's barely bigger than me." (she's all of 5 foot and could possibly, after some pasta and watermelon, weigh as much as 85-90 lbs.)
ME) "You need to move, or invest in some firearms and learn how to use them. That being said I'll go throw the guy out and tell him not to come back."
RENT-A-HOLE) "No wait! Don't throw him out. I'll just avoid him for a while. It's OK."
ME) "Bitch, you sure?"
RENT-A-HOLE) "Yeah, I'll be fine. Let him stay OK."
ME) "Whatever you say punkin*9. If you change you mind or he gets rude, alert me and I shall impose a new paradigm on his behavior options."
RENT-A-HOLE) "What?"
ME) "Call me if he tries to fist you without your consent."
RENT-A-HOLE) "Oh. OK. I will."
All right. There it is folks. I fucking slaved over this one so I hope everyone likes it.
Whoever threw a link to this informative blog on a certain gun chat forum, thank you. Good feedback and lots of hits from there. Appreciate it...
Tune in next time when I explain how strippers travel back through time and how it almost led to Neanderthals becoming the dominant human subspecies and why that might've sucked. I put a lot of research into it at great personal risk, there's a clandestine sector of da gubbamint that actively supports and recruits stripper operatives to go back in time and fuck things up for normal people.
No, I'm serious.
Sour Cream Cake Donuts,
-The StripperHerder
*1 Other Stripperherder Holidays include: Whack-A-Bitch Day, Drunksgiving, Pissmas, Goodbye Cunt Day, Whale Wednesday, Found More Than $200 Day
*2 Except the poor bastards who work at whatever club she ends up at. You pitiable bastards.
*3 January is the absolute worst month for the service industry. It's a giant, gaping cunt of a month you just have to get through before things start to slowly improve.**
**This used to apply to February and March too, and still does but to a much lesser extent than in previous years. The main reason being for this is the relative ease and speed with which most Americans can now get their income tax refund. (Which I'm getting totally fucked out of this year. Honesty doesn't pay...)
*4 Except a high end club in a top tier market with a booming economy. These clubs can always afford to be extremely choosy with their hiring. They frequently operate in a completely gremlin-free state. Must be nice...
*5 She doesn't tip good enough to merit an opinion. If you're going to be a trifling, drunken scam artist, fine. Just tip accordingly to the people who have to shake down customers for your money and clean up your trail of man tears.
*6 I agree that this girl is fairly decent looking, although most of her charms emanate from her body, which is admittedly, pretty goddamn stellar. However it is apparent to anyone who professes to be a connoisseur of hot chick faces that she is at least 1/8th horse, or in racist terms, an octoquine.
*7 This should be read in your best Rod Serling voice.
*8 Which means she no matter what she ordered, she received some sausage and sausage gravy over biscuits. Droopy sack-biscuits.
*9 What can I say? Yeah she's a whore and yeah she's dumb as a crackerful of egg salad, but goddamn it she's kinda nice and even more important, a good tipper.
