Saturday, 25 December 2010


With a twitter virgin right now xoxo

Thursday, 23 December 2010

Tonight was a Monday i dossed around around on the phone and twitter a lot as on Mondays it's usually quiet. I met a guy who was Scottish, a writer, he spoke about his marriage in Spain. Its weird when  a man almosts crying out for help and buys you drinks and gives you money just to sit at the bar and listen. Its kinda strange they give you their whole life history and then something clicks and they go from pathetic to horny. Then they remember all the tips they gave you and demand a dance for their money, sometimes give you more but once your in the booth it's like they are a child, they just want to collapse around you. Hug you with big heavy hugs that crush my little dancers bones. Hugs you can't wiggle out of.  
Clients hey? they are all fine I just had a feel for his story but not a feel for the hugs after is just all. I then met a this camera man, a director who is making a film about a camera guy who shot Lauren Bacall, Audrey Hepburn  Marilyn Monroe before cameramen and paparazzi were famous.  It was a doc but he made it and said i should go see. Unfortunately he also bought me a few tequila slammers so now i cant remember the name of the film. What kind of marketing is that?
he also told me that i should see the new will ferral movie the other man its even funnier than anchorman!
I just ordered a real sexy 12pound bird called goosey for THE dinner. Gonna pick it up with all the veg on fri if you fancy a festive shopping trip.  

Right at the end, thanks so much for this, I also danced for a bunch of men in uniform - soldiers in fact, and they wore medals on although I called them badges- bit of a faux pas!

Well theres a Monday for ya!!!

Sunday, 12 December 2010

Scared of tuition fee rises? I am scared of everything!

London has been beset by rioting over the tuition fee rises all week, with rioting and smashed windows all over the center of town.
Incidentally, thats the same center of town that I work in, and if theres rioting, I really can't see the point in risking it.
Now, I'm not talking about getting caught up in a police kettle, or catching fleas from a dreadlocked protestor, or shivering in the freezing December air as the tubes are delayed, or even dancing for an underaged kid who has wondered in after the days protest is over (trust me, university students come in all the time, as we have super-long drinking hours and a late  late license)

No, the risk for me is that I will turn up, pay my house fee, spend ages getting ready, and then not make any money as the club is so dead and no customers can make the journey in through the hallowed doors.

Actually, there are a raft on things which have been turning me off dancing in the last few weeks.  First there was the snow, then a 5 day bender and the accompanying hangover, then the riots, and then, on Friday night, just as I was gearing myself up for a return to stripping on Saturday, I find that a doorman at a rival club was shot.

With all this cold and violence, is it any wonder I am finding it difficult to be jolly and naked at times???

Thursday, 2 December 2010

Strippers stranded by snow

There's a good thick 8" of snow across London at the mo, the city looks beautiful. My club has taken the winter weather and upcoming Christmas on board and all the girlsare trusses up in Santa outfits. As a blonde, I am loving the red and White, and may even be incorporating some ermine trim to match my spangle snowflake thong.
Still, the snow doesn't just give us dancers inspiration.
It also means that dancers can't get in, or, as happened last night, can't get home.
Imagine the scene - it was a fairly slow night, the guys weren't spending yet, when someone finds out that the trains are stopping. So many of the girls catch the train in from the suburbs or Brighton - it's about an hours journey, do their makeup and have a drink, and they catch the first train back at 5am.
Last night was hilarious though as at about midnight the rumour went round that the trains wouldn't be running in the morning. All theselittle Santa Helpers began panicking, frantically checking their iPhones and blackberries - banned on the floor of course but they are always hiding in our handbags. The DJ tannoyed for the manager who was immediately surrounded by women clamouring to be let go, that instant, to catch the last train at half past midnight. You have never seen so many agitated pert bottomed santas quaking in their boots.(high heeled ones of course)
Luckily the manager let them all go early, without even asking for a tip!!!
With theclub empty of girls, I soon found a customer and made a killing in VIP. Happy days!!!!

Saturday, 27 November 2010

Stripper migration

This past week has been hell on earth. I have friends in all the major clubs in London - spearmint rhino, stringfellows, platinum lace, for your eyes only, secrets, hustler, Mayfair,browns, parkers, even the small seedy dives in soho and the east end. If I have a couple of slow nights in a row, I call up my friends and see what the crack is. Now I'm not the type of gypsy dancer who roams around all the clubs - I've been fairly faithful to mine for a few years now. No, I just like to get a feel for how the scene is, that's all, and it's a great excuse to gossip......

Well the word on the street?


Yep, there were long faces and tears in quite a few changing rooms last week, with unusual consequences. A few cat fights on and off the floor, another girl blamed her new brunette look and hit the (bleach) bottle, the bouncers got heavy in asking for tips, and of course there was a stripper migration.
The stripper migration was pretty major this time too, with even a few top earners changing allegiance - stringfellows angels moonlighting as platinum lace lovelies or spearmint hustlers.... Will they stay??? Watch this space

Thursday, 11 November 2010


Europe is currently gripped by some serious nasty weather.  There have been mudslides in Italy, droughts and wildfires in Russia, and England has - well not as dramatic, but rain, wind and general ickiness.

We all hate this time of year, as changes in the seasons usually heralds colds, runnynoses - and that definately happens if you happen to be parading half-naked/butt-naked, all alone on a draughty stage whilst the snivelling general public thrust dirty money into your hands, usually after wiping their noses.  And did I mention the air-con?

I really, really dislike getting a cold.  Usually it means I miss a few shifts at the club - and as I am self-employed, thats not good.  However, as I am currently pulling a few shifts a week in an office, it means I have to let down two groups of people, as well as losing out on two lots of money. 

On top of that, the getting-a-cold-season happens to conincide neatly with the getting-money-season.

So today I had to stay at home.  I think I caught my virus from the IT guy who sits behind me - no joke!!
But sods law, today was also rememberence day, so the TV was full of war programmes such as a Battle of Arnhelm special - a battle which my Grandad, who sadly passed away a few years ago -took part in as a Paratrooper.  Sods Law times two - there was also a black tie event in aid of rememberence day, and my club was expecting a load of guests, who would've usually LOVED me.

So as a snivelly stripper with tears in her eyes, I am going to go sleep with a Lemsip  xoxo

Friday, 5 November 2010

Stripping psychology

This is just so funny - yet so true, in a weird way, that I am going to post the link and will comment on it later on.
It was getting to the end of the night and although it was kinda busy I still hadn't made much money. I was just at the edges of feeling really tired and hungry too - I hadn't brought any snacks in and been at the office all day and had then had a Hammamm spa treatment so, yeah, basically all I had had was lunch and an apple. That may be enough for ur average skinny model wannabe but I'm the kinda pony that does pretty aerobic stuff right through to three/four am.

So it's getting to the end of the night like I said and a little voice in my head is thinking "screw it, well at least you tried. A hundred quid in ur pocket is better than a slap in the face"
But then the other voice in my head is egging me on "you're here now, you may as well work to the end - remember your goals and debts"
So I decided just one more client, give it all you've got, grab a few last dances then go home.  It's the sort of inner chatter self compromise you make at 1am. 
The guyturned out to be sweet, it was his first time even though he was easily 50, and had actually worked on the lighting installation whenthe club was firstbuilt. He was complaining to me that he had had ten dances and still hadn't got off. Now a disgruntled customer Can be hard to work with, but with 10 dances under his belt he could obviously be persuaded to have more, you just have to find the right angle.   
So I did a naughty thing, for me anyway, and said that I could get him off in the VIP. Not full blown sex or anything, but I could get him off and he would leave happy - I hate to see a first timer leave my club unhappy.
I know lots of strippers say this all day long, but leading and lying really ain't my bag usually. But like I said, I was tired, hungry, and if I didn't get any dough off this guy I was going home.

Surprise surprise I got him in VIP for half hour and I felt like a lying shit making excuses when I was in there. He was such a sweetie too and blamed the bouncer interruptions not me. 

It's the next day now and the money will go towards paying my huge credit card bill. They won't lower my interest but secretly hiked it too 34.5%, so I am afraid I am just gonna have to be a bit tough on you clients till it's paid off, alright????

Thursday, 28 October 2010


I had my first office to stripclub shift on Monday and boy was it eventful. A big group of americanfootballers came in, I thought they were the miMi dolphins but they turned out to be the San Fran 49ers. Hey, how am I to know the difference? They were all huge tall guys , with dark black skin rippled with muscles. I couldn't stop touching them , their arms, those six packs - definitely not ur average British guy. They had cute accents and funny ballsy american chat up lines and pearly White teeth which shone like beacons in the bright spotlights of my club.
The best BEST bit tho had to be when I got up on stage. Now I hadbeen working my charms on one footballer in particular but hadn't got a penny ,(or dime)outta him yet. But he was a yank, and boy do they love to tip on stAge, so when I heArd the DJ call me up next song I dropped some pretty heavy hints. In fact, my hints couldn't have been more specific; I pointed out the stage i would be performing on, that I would be there for exactly two songs, and I would be very disappointed if he didn't watch and fold a note into hismouth so I could grab it with my teeth tits toes whatever.
He did brilliantly!!!! Strolled over second song and began showering me with five pound notes. Then his mates saw and wanted to join in so they came over and started chucking dance tokens at at me!!
The rest of the night, all of the other dancers were like, sent u the girl who got loads of tips on stage??? I felt so lucky and special. A proper SUPERSTRIPPER

Monday, 25 October 2010

I am currently sitting at my office desk. Under it lies a big leads bag filled with dancer clothes, 6" heels and long lashes. I am petrified my boss will catch me out, see my naughty bits and deduce that I am much more than your average admin assistant....
It's also making me kinda horny....not that I want to screw anyone in this office but I am pretty sure they would screw me given half a chance......OMB my boss crept up and looked over my shoulder as I wrote that. - thank god his eyesight can't read an iPhone from that height. Note to self - don't write about snagging people at work when I actually am at work

Sunday, 24 October 2010

Back to stripping....

Sorry folks that I have been so quiet over the summer. I randomly got given an office job and thought, hell why not grow up and wear a suit?
Well that train of thought has lasted an entire six months and I am itching to get back to being me, sassy by name and sassy by (naked)nature!

Working in an office has had good and bad points:

Good; I am paying proper tax, have developed a 5 day a week work ethic, now super organised, and have a killer line in Thomas pink shirts and pinstripe.

Bad; I mustsa put on half a stone, no time for a daily exfoliation and pampering regime, White skin as I don't bother with fake tan, and I am completely broke - I have never had to budget for a whole month before!

Well guys n gals, you will be glad to hear that I have managed to renegotiate my hours to half days. I had to bullshit some sob story about difficulties at my family restaurant (read- stripcl o)

Wednesday, 7 April 2010

Really dumb Twitter-Stripper

errr, so I just looked at my blog and realised that I had already added a twitter link (see post below)

See, thats what happens when your stoned but stone-cold sober!!!!
You forget what you did when you were drunk!!!!


I realised that there is no link from my Twitter account (sassylapdancer) to my blog.

However, I also don't have a clue how to install this button, so hears a post about it instead. 

Bet if I was drunk I could've figured it out...

Tired ol'bones

Two strange things happened today;

1)    I walked out of work early.
2)    I walked out after only doing one dance - thats a £60 LOSS for the night.

The even stranger thing is,

1)   I was happy to go home.
2)   It wasn't the customers, or girls, or managements fault or aggravation.

Truth be told, I've been having back pain recently, to the extent that if I'm not tired or stoned enough to pass out, I wriggle a hell of a lot in bed and can't sleep for hours.  (By which time its probably daylight and I feel hungry anyway, so I just power thru a day on no sleep.)

So I thought I would step up and start going to yoga etc.
Well I went to Bikram Yoga yesterday, and felt fantastically energised and stretched out afterwards.
Today, I got a wonderful hour long full body massage, and my lovely French masseuse found my knots and pummelled me till I felt fantastically energised and stretched out afterwards.

So fantastic, in fact, that I decided I was fine to go to work tonight.


Around 9pm, so thats 4-5 hours after the massage, I am shivering in a cold empty club and my joints are seizing up all over the shop.  Then, even worse, I get called on stage.  I swear you could hear my bones clicking over the thumping bass-line.  I couldn't do my normal stage routine either, no pole tricks, no wiggling my hips, no touching my toes and waving my bum in the air.  All I could manage was to lean against the pole, wincing through the shooting pain, and rub my tits.  (This also helped me alleviate the muscle spasms, or at least took my mind off them and made me the tiniest bit horny).

So I may not be able to do LIVE ON THE NIGHT posts for a few days, as I will be laid up in my cosy bed, or a hot bath, but at least I will be naked, so it's not that different from my usual night-time activities.

Wednesday, 31 March 2010

2 boyfriend or to single? That is the question...

Fellow bloggers and lapdancers, I am faced with a hard truth today.  Or tonight rather, even though it is 8.22am, I only barely just got home and my mind is racing...

I went out for dinner with some pals of mine, dear successful pals who are in a loving and stable - albeit kinky, relationship and marriage.  They alerted me to some hard truths, and I feel compelled to share them with you. 

Basically, in their eyes, I fuck successful, yet date 'woof-woofs'.

The men I date are pushovers, artistic ttypes, who are always about to break into being the next big thing, but aren't actually there yet, but are getting there, just wait.

And fucking wait...

Well you know what?  I am so tired of waiting.  So tired of supporting, and ummm and ahhhing, whilst the rest of the world waits to catch up.  When I was 19, I started lapdancing.  I automatically had IN to all the cool stratospheri that I wanted.  Rock stars? I met them.  Politicians? I showed them my crotch and they promised me the world.  That entire basketball team, the NBA fucking champions?  They gave me front row seats.

Yet when it comes to dating, I've always gone for the artistic types that promise and give me nothing, except time and affection. 
Sounds great right?

No.  I just celebrated my 21st for the millionth time, and you know what?  After almost a decade of dancing, I think I am finally hardening.  I am so tired of socialising with people at work who throw money at me, whilst dating guys who freelance, or don't earn too much, or who are studying for something.  That's my role in life, and I looked in the mirror tonight, and saw a scary prospect.  I saw a girl who still looks like a girl but feels like a woman, a tired one at that, who just wants a chance, to be that girl who looks to her right and sees a strong man.

Girls, I think it may be time for some spring cleaning in my social and sex life. 
It's going to be painful, and its going to be lonely and nasty and so fucking painful and horrible its beyond words, but god damn it, I'm a hustler and can get through this.

I have to, because I am getting old, and my looks are fading, and my bones are tired, and these heels are KILLING me.....

Tuesday, 23 March 2010

sexy girls feet - just not mine today

Ahhhh, feet.  That fetishistic mothership of taboos.  we squirm, but we know men love feet.  Sexy girls feet, sexy tiny girl feet, sexy tan girls feet, sexy bare girls feet, sexy white girl feet, black girls sexy feet - hey, I've even had discussions with guys who say they lust after sexy jewish girls feet ( in new york), or a sleeping sexy girls feet ( that was here in london).
Well sorry to burst your bubble boys, but after a shift my feet ain't sexy.  No, they're stinky and sweaty and have icky grey black crud stuck inbetween my toes, my nail polish is usually chipping no end, with about twenty layers on as I just fill in the gaps, night after night, as I'm too cheap n too lazy to get a manicure.  Yes, I have really sexy stinky feet.  honestly, I swear most men alive would pay not to smell my hot stinky feet, especially after a;ll that pole dancing and gyrating whilst wearing 6" perspex stilletos that incase my toes  like a greenhouse as I sweat and spill drinks all over them.  Yep, I'm looking at the sorry state of affairs now, and man!  Those are some bad smelling stinky feet.  Phew!!!

Monday, 22 March 2010

london lapdancing - where have all the nerds gone? To a virtual lapdance?

The lapdancing clubs in london used to be full of nerds.  I loved nerds - they were in awe of us hot young girls, and a nerd lapdance usually promised decent bucks.  Not the hugest paycheque, but they were steady and consistent and kept coming back.  Thats the best thing about nerds - they suffer from limited female interaction, and so when they fall for a lapdancer, they fall in love with her.  And you can depend and rely on their custom, until they fall for the next sexy girls giving lapdances, or even some hot sexy girl on girl lapdance.  But now all the nerds have all disapeared. 
To where though? The virtual world?  Are avatars and computer games getting so realistic that us sweaty strippers just don't cut it anymore?  I googled lapdancing, and came up with loads of geeky virtual strippers - danni's virtual lapdance, a site to watch erica campbells daily lap dance online, some kira reeds virtual lapdance, even an entry which promises a daily free virtual lapdance.  Free!! hmph!!! hot sexy young girls who do a daily lapdance, to the camera, day after day, cutting into my business. How am I meant to compete with a laptop?

5am breakfast

I just ate a massive jacket potato with chilli AND baked beans AND cheese. At practically 5am, in a sleazy soho diner full of bitchy gay boys.  It was not the most pleasant or salubrious of dining experiences, I'm teeling you.  Am now sitting in bed, farting copiusly, and had to run to the toilet when the taxi finally dropped me back home.

And did I make a decent amount of dosh tonight? Enough, say, to pay my rent or organise my birthday party, which is meant to be this friday?

No.  Of coursenot.  But it seems that all my friends did, and do, frequently, so it begs the question?  Whats wrong with me?

I know the answer.  I'm not pushy enough, and I take my eye off the ball, and trust too much that the customers will tip me adequately, rather than badgering them till they do shove the money into my palm, and then badgering them again, minutes later, till they do it again.

Better get those sales tips and self help books out again....!

Thursday, 18 March 2010

Voodoo at the strip club

Now I know everyone is broke right now, and trying to pull a fast one, but theres ways top get your own way and then theres ones that are right out of the ball park.  The excuses that don't quite wash, the protestations that go on and on till they wear you down, even idle threats - I have dealt with all of them, and I am usually fireproof. 

But this one guy tonight right, well, when I had danced awhile for him - say 5 songs, and he'd only paid for one, he came up with a whole new get out clause-
he said he practised black magic and he was goin to call Satan and his devils onto me..... bad nasty luck n sh*t for life....
To be honest, I didn't laugh it off - I couldn't.  I have a good luck corner at home, carry a jade crystal in my bag, and fully believe, even practise, cosmic oredering.  And karma?  Suscribed from birth.
So when this drunkard looked deep into my eyes and said all this, being totally unreasonable, I was scared.  Real scared.  I thought he was going to hit me to be honest, and all of a sudden he seemed all-powerful, and a big man, whilst I was a small girl, half naked, in a room.

Of course, the b*stard got away with his crappy behaviour, I am now back at home fuming, and my handbag is half empty, and the rent still needs paying next week.

who needs voodoo threats when my luck is running this badly already???

Tuesday, 16 March 2010

Dazed and confused

I will always argue that my work persona - the girlwho is the stage name rather than the girlwho hides behind it - does not affect me oin a day to day reality basis.
But then I have a normal night, and the gulf that lies between me and us seems to be a bit more flexible.
I hang out with a load of old pals, for the past decade or so, and yet I feel detached.  My behaviour, my clothing, my points of conversationalreference just seem off .
F***knows why, darlings....
The worst thing that this job has ever given me is a serial short term memory.
It's either because;

a)  I want to forget (sorry to convention, but thats just not true.  I long to recall in HD detail)

b) The drinking, the drugs, the partying, the grooving and the talking, endlessly night after night, have rewired my barin till its all one big blur)

So anyway, why do I feel left out?
Even amongst old friends, a shadow of my former self?

I will tell you why,    it's beause, earnings wise, I am simply a shadow.

I am on the breadline compared to the financial freedom I enjoyed until even just a few months ago.

At first I was afraid, I thought it was me - I was too fat, too blonde, my hair was all wrong, my outfits were like a sack of potatoes.

But tonight I shared my problems, and an old, bestest friend of mine pointed out -

"It's not just you - the whole world's in trouble"

So next time you hear me complaining, just remind me of today's post!!

An epic 5 day week for zilch...

Ok, so I know what your thinking - 5 days of work a week? Absolutely no sweat.

Yeah well, I've had 'normal' jobs, and 5 days did drag on, but in a totally different way. 

normal - you wake up early, but get home at a decent enough time to visit the pub and watch decent telly.
stripping - you crawl fuzzy headed outa bed at midday, the pubs full of losers and all you mates are at work till....

n -  ...till  its 6pm, when your pals begin arriving home
s - ....just as your leaving for work

n - you get paid a wage, day in, day out
s - you pay the club - anything from £40 to £100 a shift !!!

n - its 9am to 5pm
s - its 8pm to 5am

So ok, I am feeling kinda sorry for myself, which is why I haven't written much recently.  This has been the hardest month, money wise, that I have had in a 7 year career of stripping.  The money has just been painfully crap, I feel fat, the hairdresser did a really dodgy job on my highlights, and the sun only started to come out yesterday.

There haven't even been any sexy customers coming in.  I usually can find one or two semi-attractive, or friendly guys, just so that I can have a little flirt and get my game on before running round the rest of the club, letting those pheromones waft over all the other customers.  So yes, lapdancers do find some of you guys cute!! 

(still no sex in the champagne room though, sorry)

However, there is light at the end of the tunnel.  I know this sounds WRONG, seeing as I am a twentysomething lady who has taken her clothes off in front of half the local male population, but recently the local university students seem to be coming in, and well, they can be really hot.  Really, really hot, and they get so excited by us girls, and you can just sense that young teenage lust oozing out of their every pore, especially for their favourite dancers.....

So, Jacob, that young aussie in a checked shirt who had cheekbones to die for, and a nice little packed out chest on him - I rubbed up against it for the whole of our (longer than usual) dance..... come back sometime and say hello to me   .......

Wednesday, 10 March 2010

Stripper homework

Essentially a good stripper is a great salesperson.  You approach a customer, gain a rapport and then ask for straight up cash for an instantaneous service style product - yourself.  your body, and more importantly, your time.  the customer is paying to spend TIME with me, nothing else - its up to us what we do with that time.

hence tonight I am back from the pub and using the few hours of down time - i can never sleep till the early hours as stripping has corrupted my body clock - anyway, using the few hours to swot up on motivational and sales techniques.  How to close, how to push for a bigger sale, etc.....

A few years ago I ordered the Dancer Home Study Course from and although it applies a lot to american c;lubs, its full of really good sound advice.  I generally show up to work, get pissed and earn some dough, but have been dawdling about with this carefree laissez faire attitude for yonkers.  Sometimes you need a touchstone, and this stripper self help manual is it.  Awesome.....

Tuesday, 9 March 2010

Monday night blues

hard Hustling work, thats what monday was about

Christ i felt good bringing home a measly hundred quid - i worked my butt off for every penny of that you see,  and sometimes you have to be glad that you came home with anything at all !!!!

am going to read my stripper sales literature today to get my game head on... it feels like it'll be a long week, the kinda week i will really need all the help i can get.....

Saturday, 6 March 2010

Scary John takes his clothes off

How drunk would a customer have to be in a lapdancing club to pull his trousers down, wave his willy about and ask for sex, or a handjob, or a spanking - or all of the above.
God it was embarrassing, and the only good thing to come out of it was the opportunity to nip home early.  It was a horribly slow night and i told my boss that i was very upset by the whole situation.....

But the worst thing of all was that he grabbed my wrist and I had to hit him with my handbag to get him off me.  Unfortunately I'm not living in a Soprano's episode, so the bouncers can't kick his face in.  Not that I condone violence, but its a real shame that they can't be a little more agressive sometimes, especially when someones have been a dick to me.

Oh, and who watches the cameras in the private dance booths - every bloody manager and security heavy in the club,  but only when there is a funny bit like that guy mooning at me, his white ass cheeks flashing in the video.  Another dancer did a spectacular banana skin style slip onto her bum whilst in the VIP, and they rewound it over and over in the back room, and teased the poor essex lass mercilessly for a week.....

Tuesday, 2 March 2010

Erotic City

Erotic City

Two last nights in a row!

When it rains, it pours....

There I was, sat in a quiet pub, busily reading in a last minute ditch attempt to finish my book club book 'Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World' by Haruki Murakami, and I was doing really well.

Really, really well....

I'd started the 400 pages exactly tome that lunchtime, and I was already a good half of the way through - right at the intriguing unicorn skull mystery, to be precise.

Then my phone rang - and I ignored it. Who wants to delve into the bottom of a bottomless handbag when they are deeply absorbed by a wonderful piece of fiction?

Then, a minute later, my phone rang again...

Insistent bugger, i thought, may be something important - or fun! or exciting! or my fucking stalker (more on him in another blog post), and wearily reached for my bag.

In fact, the two phone calls, so close together, was just a freak occurrence, as I found out later, but boy! was it worth picking up the phone!

It was only my pal, an ol'lapdancer pal of mine who is now a primary school teacher (I know, how cute...) with a free spare ticket for Mika's last London show - tonight, in an hour and a half. Could I be at Hammersmith Apollo in an hours time?

Course I fuckin' could!!

I jumped out of bed and shoved my hair in hot rollers - the previous nights burlesque antics had got me all vintage. I pulled on one dress - a leopard print rock n roll number, and began mixing up the perfect shade of Bare Essentials mineral foundation - the only thing for non-club wear. My eyebrows were a pain, as most of my proper make-up is in my locker at the club, but I managed to make do, just about. I stared at the time - ten minutes more, max. I stared at me - the wrong dress, it was all wrong. I pulled out another dress from the closet and slipped into a pair of heels, hanging it in front of me. Still the mirror said no. I pulled out another, a little Yellow limited edition number from Kate Mosses first topshop collection ( saw Selma Blair wearing the common white version a few weeks after buying it in a style mag n thought, Ha! mines better, n more unique to boot, so there HOllywood) But that meant changing the bra for a strapless version, and an underskirt to make it puff out, retro style - finally I was bloody dressed. I pulled the rollers out, spritzed the whole thing with hairspray quickly, and shoved a load of kirby grips in my bag - I can do that on the tube. Then I threw some eyeshadows and blusher inmy handbag - Mac, naturallement, and practically ran out of my house. Despite my best efforts, I knew I was still going to be late.

Still I got there, only half hour late and WOW what a show. I knew I loved Mika anyway, as I play his first album, life in cartoon motion, all the time - its such happy music... and it was great to be able to sing along to all the songs like a complete teenage saddo. Or teenage Wannabe now, seeing as I am in my twenties...and take my clothes off for a living...

Monday, 1 March 2010

Miss Polly Rae Burlesque Show

Bless Mothers...

Mine knows all about me being a lapdancer - in fact, so does my dad ( but I would never tell my Granny ), and so she booked a couple of tickets to see the last night of 'Miss Polly Rae and her Hurly Burly Girlys' in Leicester Square. She guessed it would be right up my street, and boy, was she right!

The show was fantastic, with amazing costumes and set design. She opened the show with a revised Madonna tune ( I think, my music memory is awful) whilst wearing a really sexy Mother Superior nuns habit. Her hat was a big white affair, like one of those Provencal nuns you see in old french impressionists paintings.

Apparently the team behind her was Kylie Minogues Creative Director etc, and the whole affair was so well cheroegraphed and slick, with such a fast pace and total ingenuity. I would love to be a burlesque dancer, and have decided to get a pal to take some burlesque style photos of me. Look out for some shots coming soon.....

She did a fan dance and it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. I am going to have to ebay me some of those fans. Then again, my flat is becoming cluttered with past dreams and aspirations - I have a pole ( £150) gathering dust, as I still can't be asked to put it up in the living room as it takes up too much space, and a Hula Hoop (£20) stacked in another corner.

Ahhh, forgotten dreams.

Still though, a photoshoot would only be a short term affair, rather than a long-term commitment, and it would be so much fun....

Sunday, 28 February 2010

There is SUCH a point in being a lapdancer!

As I sit here, enjoying a glass of Terraza de los Andes Reserva Malbec 2007, and nibbling on multicoloured Japanese rice crackers, looking around at my nice flat and the bulging bag of cash that I earnt on Friday night, I can hold my hand up and say;

"It's fucking great being a lapdancer!"

See, it's been tough since this credit crunch happened, and I've had to go into work more often than usual, and rein back some of my spending habits. Not as bad as some, but it's still never a nice feeling, is it?

Thats why last Friday was AWESOME - the club was so packed it was like shooting fish in a barrel. I didn't get one sitdown - I got TWO !! And the dances didn't stop coming....

In fact it was so busy, I felt like I had done a million aerobic workouts, so gorged on Macaroni Cheese when I got home at 5am, and then met some pals at lunchtime on Saturday for a big greasy-spoon fryup. Imagine, health freak readers, slodgy carbs and tons of grease at the worst possible time of the day times two!!!

I'm going to pray that this trend of a busy, happy lapdancing club continues so that I can pay off all these debts I've accumulated..... Fingers crossed xxx

Monday, 22 February 2010

Is the Year of the Tiger going to be my year?

So it was the year of the tiger today, or at least I thought it was. I ended up arguing with some Czech girl whether it was today - Sunday 20th Feb - or last week. I'm English and shes Czechslovakian, she wwears a wig and I'm a bottle blonde, so neither of us knew anything really.....

Still, any excuse for a pary, hey?

So there I was, prancing around the club, prowling for customers I could sink my claws into, figuring that this was the night when I made my rent - which is ohhhh 2 days late now - and how did I do?

Even worse, worser, worsest, than my usual Sunday night.

This tiger cub ended up leaving with her tail between her legs and catching the nightbus home in the rain. Hmph, highly glamorous.

Tuesday, 2 February 2010

Shopping List

ooohhhh it's all the lovely sexy things i want to wear and play with....
Shopping List

i spin around a pole and break my nose

I love my job, i really do......

but there are certain things, and certain nights, that really really get on my tits

like customers with haliotosis
like the security guys that become managers
like the skinnier girls
like the commission for just breathing, let alone taking my clothes off
like the ones that don't spend money on my hard - yes hrad - put the hours in work
like the ones that argue about the money like it should be a gift
like the times i can't have pudding because i have to watch my weight
or my skin
or my hair
or whatever piece of crap people fancy today

Today I span around the pole about a million times, then just when i was leaving for the changing room, some dumb idiot of a girl didn't hold the door open and it slammed into mine and our managers face. Yes. Very dumb.
But she didn't even say sorry, she just walked.
And it didn't hit the manager, just me. Right in the bridge. Big red lump.

Great, thats another few days of sitting at home unpaid for me then.....

and no, I don't have savings, I don't earn more than you, and I'm not blessed...
I get it when I can, I spend it when I can, and it infringes on every physical and emotional part of my being....

why do I do it?
Hell I dunno, why do you do your job, huh?