Last night was my commencement ball, and it was the first time in a while I felt like a normal college student. Well, semi-normal. And by that I mean I'm pretty sure I was the only one there that got their hair and makeup done for the ball at a strip club.

I worked the day shift yesterday until 6:30 so I really only had time to run home, change, and grab a cab to the park for pictures before hopping on the trolly. The night was really fun, although I do need to keep myself in check when I go out dancing lately because I inadvertently bust out really whoreish moves out of habit. No, it is not appropriate to caress your breasts over your ball gown while amongst peers.

I've got a bit of a problem though. See, I wasn't supposed to be going to this ball. Remember that whole not graduating cause I took a semester off thing? Well, because of that I've had to miss out on pretty much all of senior week. It meant no senior toast, no ball, and obviously no walking with my class at graduation. It's been a tough week seeing all my friends get ready for it, and it's been hard not to get kind of down about the whole situation. But on Wednesday night one of my close friends called me and told me she had somehow scored me and extra ticket to the ball, which I thought was absolutely impossible. I'm embarassed to say I actually teared up with happiness. I rushed out Thursday morning to get a gown, get my nails done, etc, and then called my boss.

I was supposed to work a double. But it was a Friday night, and I figured it would be no problem to do a make up shift this Monday. And I was doing the responsible thing by calling and telling him the situation, instead of just not showing up or calling out sick, like most girls do. Right? Wrong. He was a complete douche about it, told me there was no way I could take Friday night off. I couldn't believe it. This is my COMMENCEMENT BALL. It's a pretty big deal, and there was no way I was missing it. So I went in yesterday morning for my day shift and under the guidance of the house mom, the makeup artist, and the other girls (who all agreed that the manager was being ridiculous), simply walked out at the end of it and accepted the fact that I was going to be a no call/no show.

This is the young manager we're talking about, who I've never had a problem with before but everyone else seems to hate him. I see why now. The real manager is on tonight, so I guess I'm going to have to just cross my fingers that he is more understanding and I don't get a suspension. That would suck. The Boy just got his offer accepted for a new house he's co-buying to flip, and we're trying to renovate the other rentals bathroom and a bunch of other things right now, so we need the money.

So I'm just going to go in tonight and hope he lets me work. After my shift, I'm driving to my home town (over an hour away) to where the rental houses are because The Boy needs all hands on deck to get it ready for the renters that are coming next week. This weekend has been exhausting.

Random Shit Guy

I had a glorious Sunday and Monday off, worked a double at my restaurant yesterday, so am now just finding the time to sit down and write.

It was Friday night, probably around 11 when he came in. He rolled up in a huge van and made multiple trips back and forth, carrying no less than 10 bouquets of roses and 4 or 5 huge shopping bags, as well as an assortment of boxes. With all of his stuff, he took up about 3 tables in the corner next to the main stage. I looked around at the other dancers; none of them seemed phased. I pulled one of them aside to get the scoop, a petite, sweet girl named Jolie.

"Oh him? That's random shit guy. Dave. Yup, he just brings in random shit to give to the girls. And he's really diligent about it - he keeps a notebook with him to record which gift he gave to each girl so he doesn't accidentally give them the same one twice."

I decided to go over to introduce myself to Dave, who is heavy set and slightly mentally challenged. He opened his notebook and wrote down my name in it, with "NEW!!" next to it.

For the next few hours girls came in to the locker room with flowers, beanie babies, dolls (knock offs of the American Girl type), you name it. Jolie even got a giant blow up Kahlua-bottle piggie bank. When it was my turn on stage, he places a whole bouquet of white roses and a little Otter beanie baby on the tip rail.

Here's the thing - I've always said to work this job you have to have pretty thick skin. I've had guys grab my boobs, try to stick fingers in my ass, say the most derogatory things you can imagine. I laugh it off and can honestly say that I never let it bother me. But this sweet, gentle man comes in with all these presents every few weeks, and I find myself in the bathroom crying over it. Can somebody explain that to me?

Friday night in general was pretty slow money wise, I think because there were a lot of sports games going on. I worked a double so I was still satisfied with the 700-something dollars I walked with. I had my first dancer be a bitch to me, and that upset me more than I expected to. I was leading a customer down to the lap dance area and accidentally elbowed a girl. I immediately turned around to apologize and she just glared and yelled "Don't FUCKING elbow me!" Jesus Christ. Calm down, honey, it was an accident.

Deena told me this is the worst club she's worked at in terms of the cattiness and the drama in the locker room. She likes working here in general, but can't stand the other girls. I had just assumed that that's how all strip club locker rooms are.

It's late, I just got home from work, so this is going to be brief.

It was a laaaame night. I'm starting to get the feeling that this is the norm for Thursdays in general. I didn't count yet, but I think I barely broke $200 after tip out. I'm going to reconsider making this part of my schedule, because in my experience the Wednesdays I have walked in have been consistently better.

I don't have anything to compare it to, but I think the way my club sets up the schedules is pretty fair. You pick a minimum of three shifts, and it can be whatever three you want. Scheduling starts on Thursdays and ends on Saturdays, so there is a chance that a shift will fill up, but I've never had that problem. And you can choose to walk in any night you want, as long as it's before 8-9ish.

Alright well I'm about to pass out. Oh yeah, got pulled over on the way home for not quite making that yellow light I thought I was going to (whoops). I guess it didn't hurt to be wearing big fake eyelashes and giving the officer one of the extra promo t-shirts I had, but I drove off without even a warning. Such is the life :)

The "Regular" Dilemma

When I first started dancing, all of...4 weeks ago (I think?), I remember listening to the other girls talking about their "regulars," as well as the make up artist and the house mom warning me that they will probably get pissed if they see you chatting up or trying to get a dance from a girls set "regular" or "customer." After listening in for a bit I learned that a regular is someone that comes in to see a specific girl, and it's usually to take her up to a champagne room. They have set days they come in, even set hours. I've heard girls complain about being "double booked" for the night with their customers.

So this whole concept still kind of mystifies me. At first I thought only the dirty girls had regulars, and the reason these men were consistently coming back and spending at least $300 an hour (plus whatever else she "charges") was because they were getting sex. But I talked to Deena and a couple of the seemingly normal girls, and it seems like just about anyone that's been dancing long enough has their regulars. And now, after only being there a few weeks even I am seeing repeat visitors. No one that regularly wants to take me to champagne, but always gets dances from me, etc.

I suppose I'm kind of getting the hang of cultivating regulars, although I'm still a little confused about the whole thing.

My biggest question is, how do you keep these customers, who are obviously very enchanted with you, from wanting to cross the line from regular to relationship? Like I swear, every guy that I've had any sort of repeat business from has immediately started harping on me about seeing me outside of work, taking care of me financially if we were "together", you know the drill. A couple of them seem like really good guys, and definitely have money. So I'd like them to come in and see me, but how do I keep them coming back without specifically saying "NO. We will never be together. End of story" ? I should also note that I've been strongly advised to NOT tell any of them I have a boyfriend. Do you agree?

My confusion on this topic is apparent in how disjointed this post is. Please forgive my naivety, I'm sure I will get the hang of it soon. But advice would be much appreciated in the meantime.

I got to the club last night around 8:30 to wait for Kyla to come grab me for the bachelor party. She mentioned in passing two nights before that she may have me be a "rub girl" at the party instead of dancing, because I had never done it before. As long as the money was the same, I could care less. But then April said she was going to be a rub girl, so I assumed I would still be dancing.

I let Henry do my make up while I waited. A girl I didn't know and had only done maybe one shift with was counting her money out on the counter by us.

"You're doing a party?"
"Yup."
"Have you ever done one before?"
"No, first time."
"Oh, Jesus. Be careful sweetie. Seriously. Be really careful."

Henry nodded in agreement and told her he had tried to warn me already, which I certainly don't recall. Just then two of the girls that were doing their hair in the mirror next to me turned to face me.

"Do you have ANY idea what you're getting yourself in to?" Shelly asked.

"Well....I mean....Kyla said..."

The girl next to her, Theresa, is much more blunt and cut right to the chase.

"They're going to want sex. It's a completely different atmosphere. Why do you think they do it at their home instead of coming to a club? They're going to want sex, for girl on girl
- for you to do sex acts on the other dancer."

Shelly chimed in again. "That's why there are girls who specifically do these parties, and they ask for $1,000 - just for an hour. Not $200."

Alright, so now I was confused. Kyla had put the offer on the table in the middle of the locker room, and no one had said a thing to me. Plus, she said the whole reason she was asking me was because I wasn't one of the "nasty" girls. But the rest of the girls seemed to have no doubt as to what the bachelor party protocol was.

Just as I was thinking about high tailing it out of there, I got a text from Kyla. They didn't want rub girls any more, and she already had dancers. Henry looked up at me as I read the text and said "Trust me, you're better off."

A little notice would have been nice, but oh well. I could have stayed and worked, but I was exhausted. I worked Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday night, and then a Friday double.

Speaking of which, Friday double proved to be extremely lucrative. It honestly didn't feel as brutally long as I thought - and I didn't even take the hour break I was allowed. One of the girls gave me a tip earlier in the day, and it really stuck with me. Set a goal, and make it. It sounds simple, but you'd be shocked how many girls waste their time gossiping in the locker room or getting drunk. I asked her what a reasonable goal was for a double, and she said $1,000. Okay, well she's been there for a few years and I'm brand new, plus is was the first gorgeous day we've had in a while so it wasn't that busy. So my goal was $800. And once I got focused, I wasn't quitting. I only left the floor to go down to eat real quick, get my hair and make up done for the night, and then I was up and back at it. I walked with $950.

I'm thinking about buying some black shoes today. Right now I have just plain clear, and white. The white bottomed ones are so uncomfortable that I almost never wear them. Or maybe clear, mirrored ones. Looking into it now.