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   .......