Hubs' tax refund came in earlier than expected, so he's off to the Big Smoke to buy us a family car (hoooooraaayyy 4 doors and a working horn!) Presley normally spends Thursdays and Fridays in daycare because that's when I'm away taking all my clothes off in dimly lit rooms while Hubs works a day shift. However, since Hubbalicious is away on an extended weekend of car comparing and bargaining (as well as some boozing with long lost buddies, lets be honest), I get to stay home with Presley for the next four days. BUT, when I called the daycare, they said we would be billed whether or not Prez attended his regular days, since they need 14 day's notice for scheduled absences.
Huh. Well, if I'm going to pay strangers to watch bubs either way..... And that's how I came to be alone at home with Shea, for NINE DELICIOUS HOURS two days in a row.
Its one thing to be baby free in a stripper house for a couple days, but this is different. This is my own home, with all the creature comforts I love. It's awesome! I hardly know what to do first. Maybe a 40 minute shower? Maybe a nap!
Wednesday, 31 July 2013
Sunday, 28 July 2013
How to take advantage of Drunken Ass-hattery.
Some nights at the club just smell like no money. You can sense it by 11:00 p.m. and unless there's a strange turnaround, you walk out with a mere couple hundred bucks for 10 hours' work. That can be pretty disheartening. However, I've picked up some good tips from other dancers recently, and today's tip involves turning binge drinking into a clear profit for you, changing a shit night into an ok one.
It goes like this:
Step One - Find the loudest, drunkest table in the room. I find this trick works even better if there are a few ladies in the group too (more on that later)
Step Two - Approach. Be above average charming, witty, energetic and positive. Importantly do not mention the possibility of lap dances!!! You want to come across as a party girl, not a dancer at this point. This group isn't looking for sexy dances, they are looking to get DRUNK.
Step Three - As soon as you notice drinks getting low, offer to pick up the next round of drinks for the table from the bar. Don't ask for a drink for yourself. 95% of the time they will offer anyway.
Step Four - Fetch drinks. This is the most work you will do, and most often it involves walking less than 20 feet to the bar. Order the required drinks, and a soda water with lime for yourself. Charge the table for the drinks they ordered, AND one for yourself. Pocket the $10-15 for "your" drink, and make sure you and only you drink your water so that the table never knows the difference. Ask the bar for as much change as they can give you, and the rest in small bills like 5's.
Step Five - Serve drinks. Serve the ladies first, shake your ass, make a big show of being a sexy server. When you present the change to whoever got that round, do not hand it to the guy (or girl). Leave it all sitting on the tray and extend the tray towards the dude so he has to pick it up himself. Most of the time, this will net you a tip. I've very rarely served drinks and made no tip. If the tightwad does take all the change, usually a cheeky smart-ass comment will have someone else tipping you anyway. Sit with the table, sip your water, be a fun time, and before you know it, it will be time to fetch the next round. Repeat as necessary.
Now I know $15-$30 doesn't seem like much, but if you sit with this table for an hour or so, that's 4 or 5 rounds, and all those tips add up. Otherwise you'd just be sitting off in a corner somewhere staring into space thinking about how crap the night is, wouldn't you?
And you know what? The drunker these people get while you remain sober, the more money there is to be made. Often times I've had two people pay for the same round of drinks, once as I left to get them and once again when I brought them back. NEVER correct them when they do this! That's money straight in your stripper bag. Consider it a tip. Two Saturdays ago, it was dead as could be, and I sat with 5 people who announced straight away as I arrived that they were not interested in lap dances, and that they were just here for a few drinks and to watch the stage. I told them that was fine since I didn't feel like giving lap dances anyway. By the end of two hours, sipping water and fetching them drinks had netted me just under $300, and in the end two of the group got a lappy anyway.
The moral of the story is that as long as you are flexible, fun, friendly and SWITCHED ON there is money to be made in a club any night you are there. You just need to sniff it out, that's all. Just remember to act increasingly intoxicated ;-)
Good luck!
It goes like this:
Step One - Find the loudest, drunkest table in the room. I find this trick works even better if there are a few ladies in the group too (more on that later)
Step Two - Approach. Be above average charming, witty, energetic and positive. Importantly do not mention the possibility of lap dances!!! You want to come across as a party girl, not a dancer at this point. This group isn't looking for sexy dances, they are looking to get DRUNK.
Step Three - As soon as you notice drinks getting low, offer to pick up the next round of drinks for the table from the bar. Don't ask for a drink for yourself. 95% of the time they will offer anyway.
Step Four - Fetch drinks. This is the most work you will do, and most often it involves walking less than 20 feet to the bar. Order the required drinks, and a soda water with lime for yourself. Charge the table for the drinks they ordered, AND one for yourself. Pocket the $10-15 for "your" drink, and make sure you and only you drink your water so that the table never knows the difference. Ask the bar for as much change as they can give you, and the rest in small bills like 5's.
Step Five - Serve drinks. Serve the ladies first, shake your ass, make a big show of being a sexy server. When you present the change to whoever got that round, do not hand it to the guy (or girl). Leave it all sitting on the tray and extend the tray towards the dude so he has to pick it up himself. Most of the time, this will net you a tip. I've very rarely served drinks and made no tip. If the tightwad does take all the change, usually a cheeky smart-ass comment will have someone else tipping you anyway. Sit with the table, sip your water, be a fun time, and before you know it, it will be time to fetch the next round. Repeat as necessary.
Now I know $15-$30 doesn't seem like much, but if you sit with this table for an hour or so, that's 4 or 5 rounds, and all those tips add up. Otherwise you'd just be sitting off in a corner somewhere staring into space thinking about how crap the night is, wouldn't you?
And you know what? The drunker these people get while you remain sober, the more money there is to be made. Often times I've had two people pay for the same round of drinks, once as I left to get them and once again when I brought them back. NEVER correct them when they do this! That's money straight in your stripper bag. Consider it a tip. Two Saturdays ago, it was dead as could be, and I sat with 5 people who announced straight away as I arrived that they were not interested in lap dances, and that they were just here for a few drinks and to watch the stage. I told them that was fine since I didn't feel like giving lap dances anyway. By the end of two hours, sipping water and fetching them drinks had netted me just under $300, and in the end two of the group got a lappy anyway.
The moral of the story is that as long as you are flexible, fun, friendly and SWITCHED ON there is money to be made in a club any night you are there. You just need to sniff it out, that's all. Just remember to act increasingly intoxicated ;-)
Good luck!
Fallout
Surprise, surprise, stripping isn't all Dom Perignon and diamond necklaces. This week I was sad to learn that one of my fellow co-workers had separated from her fiance because of her job. I'm sure there were other factors too, but when push came to shove and he said "me or your work" she chose her work. And there she was, Friday night, topless waitressing in a packed bar, fake smile plastered firmly across the lower half of her face, and all the weight and sorrow of her world dark beneath her eyes.
I want to write a really insightful piece about how if you have the right combination of trust and communication you and your partner can actually have a stronger relationship when you strip. I can't today though. Milena's eyes keep popping into my mind. I thought her and her fiance were one of those lucky couples that had it all, and turns out they didn't. I hope she's ok.
I'm home now, settling back into family life after a few nights away in that now-familiar mining town. The work wasn't hard this week. A few half-hour fantasies fell into my lap, and I got lucky with a couple chatty cats who kept my for an hour or more. I made my minimum goals with very little effort. There was personal fallout, however. Hubby is feeling the strain of holding up the domestic end of things while I've been gone. Our lovely little puppy is a whirlwind of chewing disaster when nobody's home, and I didn't get a crate until yesterday, so she had all of Thursday and Friday to trash the house. I can't believe the amount of things she ATE!!! (shoes, diapers, pumpkin skin to name a few) By the time I got home Hubs was a pressure cooker of frustration waiting to explode. Lately I've been a mother first, a stripper second and a wife last, and it isn't doing good things to his mindset.
Long and short of it is that despite the awesome money to be had, I'm not working next weekend. I need some time with our little family before I leave for my 2 week shift down South, and Hubs needs some quality time with his wife.
As for our "alternative swinging lifestyle"? Haha. Can you still call yourself swingers if you have only had sex with each other for months on end?
On the plus side, we did sneak out to the in-laws place and have sex on their front steps while they weren't home. Maybe that makes us "naughty steppers" instead.
Sunday, 21 July 2013
A new family member!
Life is funny sometimes. Hubs and I have spent months and months talking about getting a dog, the pros and cons of one now vs waiting, the type we want, age, sex, etc. and how we would fit a canine into our life plan. I've been pining quite a bit. I grew up with animals and have never gone longer than a month without a pet in the house. These last nine months have probably been pretty annoying for hubby, since I've been prone to whining about it, dropping obscenely obvious hints ("I had the best dream last night honey, and it involved the RSPCA") and at some times, practically begging. But, since we plan on traveling after this six months is up, and we don't know where or for how long, we both kind of sort of agreed that a dog wasn't a good idea at this present time.
Haha. Thus the funny. Because now we have one.
(Pronounced Shay) Her papers say she is a "Blue Staffy" but she looks more like an ashy brown to me. She's settling in ok, although this kind of sad, weary look has been the norm for the last 24 hours. I understand. I mean, the home we got her from had quite a few dogs roaming around in a big social pack, and she has gone from being a yard dog to an indoor house dog with no puppy friends. Its a big change, so I expected some moping.
The place we got her from had "sketchy pet ownership" written all over it. For one, none of their animals were fixed, including Shea. (We will be sorting that out quick-smart) All the dogs were friendly enough, but when I asked whether or not Shea likes fetching and how she heels on a leash the female owner replied "Oh, I don't know. I don't do that sort of stuff with her." Um. You don't walk her?
So yeah there were some signs that this girl might need some behavioral work, and that she most likely is covered in fleas, but she comes across as a very low-energy type, was a sweetie with Presley, and when I took her for a walk, even though you could tell she had never been taught how to heel, she took any new situation very calmly. Now that we have her in our own home, Prez has been crawling all over her and bopping her affectionately on the head and she doesn't even flinch. We have a check up at the vet this afternoon just to make sure the girl's all hunky-dory, but I think we will be a-okay.
You know what I didn't miss while pet-starved? Waiting for the little critters to poop while on a walk! Last night took forever! I'd forgotten all about those 5-10 minutes of "c'mon hurry up please this is the third spot you've checked out, POO ALREADY!"
Haha. Thus the funny. Because now we have one.
Meet Shea!!.
(Pronounced Shay) Her papers say she is a "Blue Staffy" but she looks more like an ashy brown to me. She's settling in ok, although this kind of sad, weary look has been the norm for the last 24 hours. I understand. I mean, the home we got her from had quite a few dogs roaming around in a big social pack, and she has gone from being a yard dog to an indoor house dog with no puppy friends. Its a big change, so I expected some moping.
The place we got her from had "sketchy pet ownership" written all over it. For one, none of their animals were fixed, including Shea. (We will be sorting that out quick-smart) All the dogs were friendly enough, but when I asked whether or not Shea likes fetching and how she heels on a leash the female owner replied "Oh, I don't know. I don't do that sort of stuff with her." Um. You don't walk her?
So yeah there were some signs that this girl might need some behavioral work, and that she most likely is covered in fleas, but she comes across as a very low-energy type, was a sweetie with Presley, and when I took her for a walk, even though you could tell she had never been taught how to heel, she took any new situation very calmly. Now that we have her in our own home, Prez has been crawling all over her and bopping her affectionately on the head and she doesn't even flinch. We have a check up at the vet this afternoon just to make sure the girl's all hunky-dory, but I think we will be a-okay.
You know what I didn't miss while pet-starved? Waiting for the little critters to poop while on a walk! Last night took forever! I'd forgotten all about those 5-10 minutes of "c'mon hurry up please this is the third spot you've checked out, POO ALREADY!"
Thursday, 18 July 2013
An Unexpected Job Requirement
Turns out, you can't just be there and pretty at a club to make money. You need a serious amount of critical reasoning and social agility. You need to be able to flex into the "persona on offer" that each different male (aka potential customer) is after. If you do this, if you are mentally switched ON at work and pay attention to the cues put out, you will make more money, because you can be the girl he is willing to spend it on.
That's a large part of the reasoning behind this blog. There's only a few posts on it, and I wish there was more because I learned so many new ideas and approaches from a couple of them. Last week, I was deliberately 100% present at work, especially in the first half hour which we spend downstairs mingling with men who haven't paid to come upstairs yet. I learned names, and I tried to guess/suss out motivations. Why were they each here? I found a bachelor party and subsequently landed a booking as soon as the doors to the club opened at 8. Man, this shit works. And the best part for me is that as a result, I spend a lot more time asking the guys about themselves, and a lot less time talking about myself, a topic I really do not want them delving too deeply into.
I know I made more money as a result, and I am pretty grateful to have stumbled upon some good advice. Who knew how intellectual this job could get!?!?
That's a large part of the reasoning behind this blog. There's only a few posts on it, and I wish there was more because I learned so many new ideas and approaches from a couple of them. Last week, I was deliberately 100% present at work, especially in the first half hour which we spend downstairs mingling with men who haven't paid to come upstairs yet. I learned names, and I tried to guess/suss out motivations. Why were they each here? I found a bachelor party and subsequently landed a booking as soon as the doors to the club opened at 8. Man, this shit works. And the best part for me is that as a result, I spend a lot more time asking the guys about themselves, and a lot less time talking about myself, a topic I really do not want them delving too deeply into.
I know I made more money as a result, and I am pretty grateful to have stumbled upon some good advice. Who knew how intellectual this job could get!?!?
Tuesday, 16 July 2013
I wanna be a Thousandaire, so frikin bad.
Man, I'd settle for a couple grand extra in the bank, any day. I don't need millions. I'm not greedy.
Last Saturday, I met an aging ex-stripper working the sales counter at a sex shop. She said in her day, working a "high end gentlemen's club" in Brisbane, she would make a minumum (minimum, mind you, she was careful to emphasize) of 8 or 9 grand in a 3 night work week. Part of me hopes this is just a big exaggeration, like a fishing story from decades back that you only half remember. I mean, that's just unfair. When I look at that number, and stick it up there next to what I'm making it makes me sad.
If I made 8 or 9 grand a week, I could buy all the spontaneous presents I see and want to get for Hubs. A spear fishing kit, for example. If I made 8 or 9 grand a week, I could fly my whole family over in less than a month's work and I totally would! I don't care that I'd have to answer a few awkward questions about that amount of money. (Maybe I could just tell them I won a small lotto and am now a thousandaire.) If I made 8 or 9 grand I would have a house keeper. Not a live in, wear a sexy apron kind (although......) just someone to visit twice a week and make this place effortlessly spotless. I'd be happy to fork over the required cash.
So, universe. A return to the heady, chashed-up days of the mining boom, please?
Last Saturday, I met an aging ex-stripper working the sales counter at a sex shop. She said in her day, working a "high end gentlemen's club" in Brisbane, she would make a minumum (minimum, mind you, she was careful to emphasize) of 8 or 9 grand in a 3 night work week. Part of me hopes this is just a big exaggeration, like a fishing story from decades back that you only half remember. I mean, that's just unfair. When I look at that number, and stick it up there next to what I'm making it makes me sad.
If I made 8 or 9 grand a week, I could buy all the spontaneous presents I see and want to get for Hubs. A spear fishing kit, for example. If I made 8 or 9 grand a week, I could fly my whole family over in less than a month's work and I totally would! I don't care that I'd have to answer a few awkward questions about that amount of money. (Maybe I could just tell them I won a small lotto and am now a thousandaire.) If I made 8 or 9 grand I would have a house keeper. Not a live in, wear a sexy apron kind (although......) just someone to visit twice a week and make this place effortlessly spotless. I'd be happy to fork over the required cash.
So, universe. A return to the heady, chashed-up days of the mining boom, please?
Monday, 15 July 2013
Go to SLEEP little demon. I mean, darling.
I think I've discovered the number one negative aspect of my being away so much lately: Prezley's sleep skills are degenerating. I suspect its because, unlike me, the daycare/babysitter/daddy are all too happy to just pick him back up out of the cot if he winges for 5 minutes or so. Obviously it means he doesn't need a nap, right?
Oh, so wrong.
That's what I did yesterday. Then he fussed again, so I put him back down, he cried and complained for 15 minutes, and I picked him up again.
And put him down 20 minutes later.
And picked him up after 15 minutes of complaining.
It was a cycle that didn't break until 11:45. By this point, I was completely exhausted, drained, angry, frustrated. None of those emotions are things I want to feel on one of my only full days with bubs. So this morning when he gave those first signs of being tired, I morphed back into 4 month old mode, put him down and was content to let myself listen as he protested. (ok, I wore earplugs) It isn't a loud pain-driven scream, just a low constant muttering. It lasted half an hour, and he only just fell asleep now. GRRRR!! I already went through this, already did the hard part of establishing that you go in your crib, you go to SLEEP. End of story. But now, when I'm responsible for about 1/3 of the care he receives on a work week, it all goes to shit.
I'm going to have to talk to the daycare/baby sitting lady this week. I find Mondays hard enough without a no-sleep demonic 11 month old.
Oh, so wrong.
That's what I did yesterday. Then he fussed again, so I put him back down, he cried and complained for 15 minutes, and I picked him up again.
And put him down 20 minutes later.
And picked him up after 15 minutes of complaining.
It was a cycle that didn't break until 11:45. By this point, I was completely exhausted, drained, angry, frustrated. None of those emotions are things I want to feel on one of my only full days with bubs. So this morning when he gave those first signs of being tired, I morphed back into 4 month old mode, put him down and was content to let myself listen as he protested. (ok, I wore earplugs) It isn't a loud pain-driven scream, just a low constant muttering. It lasted half an hour, and he only just fell asleep now. GRRRR!! I already went through this, already did the hard part of establishing that you go in your crib, you go to SLEEP. End of story. But now, when I'm responsible for about 1/3 of the care he receives on a work week, it all goes to shit.
I'm going to have to talk to the daycare/baby sitting lady this week. I find Mondays hard enough without a no-sleep demonic 11 month old.
I literally just had this conversation
Me You have gotten a lot better at washing dishes too.
Hubs I've always been good at washing dishes.
Me No. Remember, I used to have to put half of them back in the water.
Hubs No you didn't.
Me Did too! There was always food still stuck to them!
Hubs Yeah, but the food had been washed too, so....
Hubs I've always been good at washing dishes.
Me No. Remember, I used to have to put half of them back in the water.
Hubs No you didn't.
Me Did too! There was always food still stuck to them!
Hubs Yeah, but the food had been washed too, so....
Sunday, 14 July 2013
Garfield was a Stripper
Of course he was! He hated Mondays with a passion, and now I understand why:
Because they SUCK!
Sundays I travel home, sleep on the bus, meet daddy and bubs at the car and we all make the drive to the house. Its half adrenaline, half excitement at seeing them again that gets me through those last 2 hours on the bus. I should be sleeping at that point, not jostling about with drunk Irish backpackers with ukuleles. I pay for that on Monday.
Mondays, hubs is up and off, mercifully at 8 now, not 7. But still. By 7:45 he is gone and its just bubs and I and a lot of laundry. (How do they make so much? Its a mystery.) Each and every Monday morning I feel like a sloth with a tequila hangover. My body is still adjusting to the 12 hour switcharoo I am playing and unlike at the stripper house where I can sleep off the dozy bit, here there is stuff to DO. And of course, a baby who is now go-go-go. Today Hubs wanted me to print off his resume/cover letter at the library. A mere 900 metre walk away. It didn't happen. I just could not stomach the idea of hauling my tired sore grumpy self that far and dealing with people.
Its 4 now. It took until 3 p.m. for me to feel normal-ish again. I'm afraid that this is going to be a regular occurrence.
Hmmmm? Is it weird that I want to change my stripper name to Garfield? Everyone always forgets Nikki anyway....
Because they SUCK!
Sundays I travel home, sleep on the bus, meet daddy and bubs at the car and we all make the drive to the house. Its half adrenaline, half excitement at seeing them again that gets me through those last 2 hours on the bus. I should be sleeping at that point, not jostling about with drunk Irish backpackers with ukuleles. I pay for that on Monday.
Mondays, hubs is up and off, mercifully at 8 now, not 7. But still. By 7:45 he is gone and its just bubs and I and a lot of laundry. (How do they make so much? Its a mystery.) Each and every Monday morning I feel like a sloth with a tequila hangover. My body is still adjusting to the 12 hour switcharoo I am playing and unlike at the stripper house where I can sleep off the dozy bit, here there is stuff to DO. And of course, a baby who is now go-go-go. Today Hubs wanted me to print off his resume/cover letter at the library. A mere 900 metre walk away. It didn't happen. I just could not stomach the idea of hauling my tired sore grumpy self that far and dealing with people.
Its 4 now. It took until 3 p.m. for me to feel normal-ish again. I'm afraid that this is going to be a regular occurrence.
Hmmmm? Is it weird that I want to change my stripper name to Garfield? Everyone always forgets Nikki anyway....
Cram-a-lam
You can squish a lot of stuff into one week, if you want to.
Ask Presley
This week Prez learned to say "fffff" stand up and balance suspended in the air for an exhilerating 3-5 seconds, scoot feet first off our bed on his own and a whole wack of other cool things. I celebrate these moments quietly to myself and try to write as many down as possible, because I know this time in his life is going to fly past in a blink.
Ask Hubby
After returning from our vacation, hubs learned that his position as floor manager simply "no longer existed". Its a slippery way of demoting someone, and it stung that they did so without a) warning or b) personal delivery by any of his 4 bosses, all of whom we considered friends. BUT, despite the fact that he no longer got a phone and car bonus, they assured him his pay would not be lowered. So even with an insulting kind of sneaky snake move like that, if he was going to be paid the same to essentially do less work, we were happy to grin and bear it for the next six months.
This week they told him that actually, the pay would drop. By 20%. He had until Monday to decide about the new contract.
I wrote a nice resignation letter for him, and an even more kick-ass cover letter for a job opening the Council is trying to fill. Taz dropped it off and told his bosses "Thanks, but no thanks." He'd rather dig holes for more money, happily for the next 6 months.
Personally, I don't mind if he just got a part time job somewhere and watched Amelia while I worked, even traveling with me every so often. No doubt he will find something to do. We have 5 months left on this lease to figure out what we want to do After Small Town.
So that's a big turnaround from "we may or may not stay here" to "fuck you guys, I'm living anywhere but here" in a week.
Ask Me
Despite a massive Greyhound fail that resulted in my being stuck on the side of the road in the middle of the Australian inland nothing-ness for four hours and missing Thursday night, I managed to squeeze enough hustling into 2 nights to earn roughly twice what I used to in a week back home.
More on work in a post later. Guess what else we did!! We picked a guy for our first 2-guy threesome! Well, we soft-picked him, it isn't cast in stone because we haven't met face-to-face yet. But still, its been quite a process and actually a lot of fun to go about saying "Hello internet world. I want to fuck. Any takers?". I feel very safe because of Hubby, and I don't know if I would be as brazen if I was just a single chick on her own. There's been a lot of talk about the swinger subject in our house lately. Turns out, conversation is a turn-on in its own right, and I am so glad we don't have neighbours right now.
That's all I have time for. Prez seems very clingy this week and I want to give him a lot of undivided attention. It means the housework is less than accomplished, but meh. Mamma brought home the bacon this week....hmmm....wonder if there's a house cleaner in the budget?
Ask Presley
This week Prez learned to say "fffff" stand up and balance suspended in the air for an exhilerating 3-5 seconds, scoot feet first off our bed on his own and a whole wack of other cool things. I celebrate these moments quietly to myself and try to write as many down as possible, because I know this time in his life is going to fly past in a blink.
Ask Hubby
After returning from our vacation, hubs learned that his position as floor manager simply "no longer existed". Its a slippery way of demoting someone, and it stung that they did so without a) warning or b) personal delivery by any of his 4 bosses, all of whom we considered friends. BUT, despite the fact that he no longer got a phone and car bonus, they assured him his pay would not be lowered. So even with an insulting kind of sneaky snake move like that, if he was going to be paid the same to essentially do less work, we were happy to grin and bear it for the next six months.
This week they told him that actually, the pay would drop. By 20%. He had until Monday to decide about the new contract.
I wrote a nice resignation letter for him, and an even more kick-ass cover letter for a job opening the Council is trying to fill. Taz dropped it off and told his bosses "Thanks, but no thanks." He'd rather dig holes for more money, happily for the next 6 months.
Personally, I don't mind if he just got a part time job somewhere and watched Amelia while I worked, even traveling with me every so often. No doubt he will find something to do. We have 5 months left on this lease to figure out what we want to do After Small Town.
So that's a big turnaround from "we may or may not stay here" to "fuck you guys, I'm living anywhere but here" in a week.
Ask Me
Despite a massive Greyhound fail that resulted in my being stuck on the side of the road in the middle of the Australian inland nothing-ness for four hours and missing Thursday night, I managed to squeeze enough hustling into 2 nights to earn roughly twice what I used to in a week back home.
More on work in a post later. Guess what else we did!! We picked a guy for our first 2-guy threesome! Well, we soft-picked him, it isn't cast in stone because we haven't met face-to-face yet. But still, its been quite a process and actually a lot of fun to go about saying "Hello internet world. I want to fuck. Any takers?". I feel very safe because of Hubby, and I don't know if I would be as brazen if I was just a single chick on her own. There's been a lot of talk about the swinger subject in our house lately. Turns out, conversation is a turn-on in its own right, and I am so glad we don't have neighbours right now.
That's all I have time for. Prez seems very clingy this week and I want to give him a lot of undivided attention. It means the housework is less than accomplished, but meh. Mamma brought home the bacon this week....hmmm....wonder if there's a house cleaner in the budget?
Monday, 8 July 2013
Work It Baby, Work It Out.
Gah, I'm staring down the barrel at yet another weekend of work, and its coming at me a lot quicker than I want it to!! It only feels like I JUST got home, and tomorrow I have to make final preparations for leaving again. Presley is starting to push himself up and then stand there, wobbling but on his own two feet, for a few seconds before falling onto his butt with a screech and a giggle. I know he is going to take his first steps any day now and I am terrified that I'll miss them.
This makes 4 weekends of work out of 5. The only Thurs/Fri/Sat I had off was when hubs was sick and in the hospital, so you can't even really consider that a break. I'm feeling pretty ok physically, but that's probably because when I'm at home all I do is sleep, chill with bubba, and rest my aching elbows and butt muscles. (You hover over a couple dozen "gentlemen" maintaining a 20 cm distance between his crotch and yours while trying to look sexy and you'll have the best ass shape of your life, I tell ya!)
Some things I have discovered from this work-a-thon:
1. It takes me a few hours at home to shed my stripper skin and release some sort of post-work tension. I don't even know I am holding it, in my shoulders and the space between my eyes, until its gone. This requires either a nap, or a few glasses of coffee followed by a few glasses of wine. (Not the healthiest, I know, but very effective)
2. By the time Saturday night is halfway finished, if I have made over a certain benchmark, I am inclined to sort of....quit, and chill on the couch by myself. I think I just have a subconscious limit of how many strangers I can writhe all sexy-like on top of in a given weekend. I hit it, and then flat out refuse to dance any more. That's one of the best parts: unlike a serving job, or a bartender position, they can never make me serve customers.
3. If I don't take sleeping pills, I'm up by 10 a.m., no matter what. That's only 4 1/2 hours of sleep. That's a grouchy situation.
I'll work this weekend in a lil 'ol mining town, then next weekend I'll head north up the coast a bit and hope to meet up with a ship of American troops docking for some sort of break. (The newspaper said 21,000 troops are expected) Apparently there is good money in entertainment-starved navy personnel, but I don't find discourse with those of a military slant particularly enjoyable, and when you add alcohol and American citizenship into the mix.....*shudder* it better be bloody awesome money.
And after that, I'm not putting on those fake eyelashes, the stripper shoes and that stripper smile for at least two weeks.
This makes 4 weekends of work out of 5. The only Thurs/Fri/Sat I had off was when hubs was sick and in the hospital, so you can't even really consider that a break. I'm feeling pretty ok physically, but that's probably because when I'm at home all I do is sleep, chill with bubba, and rest my aching elbows and butt muscles. (You hover over a couple dozen "gentlemen" maintaining a 20 cm distance between his crotch and yours while trying to look sexy and you'll have the best ass shape of your life, I tell ya!)
Some things I have discovered from this work-a-thon:
1. It takes me a few hours at home to shed my stripper skin and release some sort of post-work tension. I don't even know I am holding it, in my shoulders and the space between my eyes, until its gone. This requires either a nap, or a few glasses of coffee followed by a few glasses of wine. (Not the healthiest, I know, but very effective)
2. By the time Saturday night is halfway finished, if I have made over a certain benchmark, I am inclined to sort of....quit, and chill on the couch by myself. I think I just have a subconscious limit of how many strangers I can writhe all sexy-like on top of in a given weekend. I hit it, and then flat out refuse to dance any more. That's one of the best parts: unlike a serving job, or a bartender position, they can never make me serve customers.
3. If I don't take sleeping pills, I'm up by 10 a.m., no matter what. That's only 4 1/2 hours of sleep. That's a grouchy situation.
I'll work this weekend in a lil 'ol mining town, then next weekend I'll head north up the coast a bit and hope to meet up with a ship of American troops docking for some sort of break. (The newspaper said 21,000 troops are expected) Apparently there is good money in entertainment-starved navy personnel, but I don't find discourse with those of a military slant particularly enjoyable, and when you add alcohol and American citizenship into the mix.....*shudder* it better be bloody awesome money.
And after that, I'm not putting on those fake eyelashes, the stripper shoes and that stripper smile for at least two weeks.
Sunday, 7 July 2013
Girls, Girls, Girls
I tell customers who ask that the best part of my job is all the lovely sexy naked women I get to call co-workers and "play with" all night long. That's the truth, just a slightly sexed-up version of it. The best part of my job is all the women I meet, with their incredibly diverse back stories and personalities. I enjoy sitting in the kitchen and talking to the lady from Darwin about club rules over there, and the slick flow of money from "way back" five years ago when she used to work. I get to talk uni classes with some of the girls, and catch up on Canadian happenings with Celine. I live vicariously through the rough and rowdy girls who get drunk "e'ry day, e'ry day" and I fall over laughing at some of the things they say to each other at the end of the night.
"Here are your three hashbrowns."
"Bitch, I love you"
"No, shut up you don't. You hate me. You don't like me at all. You probably bitch about me to the other girls behind my back all the time."
"No, no bitch I love you."
"Shut up, you do not."
"Bitch, I love you cunt, so just shut the fuck up." *munches on hashbrown*
Classy.
More interesting than the men who come to spend money and ogle, I could talk to the girls all night. Most of them, anyway. Some are black holes of negativity and bitch vibes, and I try to stay as far away as possible. (Those ones are like sinking ships though, and like savy rats, all the others maintain a distance too.)
I love comparing customer stories at the end of the night while we peel off our eyelashes and change back into our street clothes. I love using teamwork tactics with girls like Vixen to lure the guys in like flies into a sticky boob jiggling trap. Men, for the record, are pretty easy targets. I enjoy people watching from a dark corner of a leather couch, tucked away and hidden at 4 a.m. Each week, by Sunday, I have made many temporary friends, and exchange facebook details with a fair few.
I know that because this job is so briefly available to me, I only have a short amount of time where I can meet (i.e. grill) as many women as possible about their experiences as strippers, as attractive young ladies, and as hustlers in a game. So if you meet a new stripper this week, and she asks you about a thousand questions, it could be me!!!
Ciao
Monday, 1 July 2013
Golden Days, Golden Moments
I haven't written in far too long. Thing's, dey been busy, but that isn't any excuse. I have a couple dozen thoughts/moments to jot down. Here they are in no particular order, just as I can remember them now that I'm finally perched back in front of a computer screen.
1. I learned that pre-meditated "accidental" drink dumping by strippers onto jack-ass customers is kind of....discreetly permitted by the management at my favourite club. I think this is hilarious. I witnessed a red cordial/club soda concoction soak the white cotton clad back of one particularly repugnant customer. Some of it went in my shoe and soaked into my fishnet stockings, but it was worth it to be within 3 feet of that dude's facial expression as the first wave bubbled down over his forehead.
2. My little micro-family of 3 have had loads of quality time together lately. Presley is such a champion traveler, and we've spent a collective 30 + hours in the car with him this past 2 weeks. We have slept in 8 different houses in the last 16 days, and he just takes everything as it comes. Eats anything, sleeps anywhere, loves meeting EVERYONE. Am I bragging? You bet your ass. I am in total awe of my 11 month old. I can not believe that in less than a month I am not going to have a baby-baby anymore. This little thing will be a toddler. Guess who's getting clucky? But for now, we have a 12 month plan which involves me working, and I'm keeping a firm rein on baby mania. I got an implenon last week. Hurt like a bitch, (ocal anesthetic my ass) but cost literally less than 10% of the non-hormonal version I used in Canada. Huh. That was a pleasant surprise. The 99.99% effective IUD didn't work for us, so I'm not, you know, 100% certain about this implenon bit's 99.5% effective rate for me, but we'll see how it goes.
3. I've worked a couple weekends, in a couple different cities since I spoke last. Every weekend seems to have one shit night, one average night, and one redeeming night. In no particular order, mind you. This past week, Thursday was killer and Friday was the biggest waste of time. The weekend before, Thursday I might as well have stayed home, but Saturday I made $450 more than I usually do. But no matter what, I seem to make the same roughly every weekend, and its a good solid figure that works out to be very much worth my time. I think it's about half luck, half hustling skills. (My hustling skills suck but I seem to get lucky alot, falling into pre-arranged fantasies, or duos at least once every weekend. And that folks, is all it takes to be a good working shift) I miss Prezler and Hubs, but the time we do spend together is even more awesome because it always feels too short. Before I know it, I'm back on the road again, wondering what they are having mushed up for dinner tonight, and waiting for picture texts to come through to make me smile.
4. Presley started crabwalking sideways yesterday, and today he learned how to "wipe wipe" his face with a baby wipe, and wipe mine too. She will be toddling along on her own any day now. I'm terrified that I'm going to be away and miss that moment. Statistically its pretty likely. BUT, I did watch her learn how to give a "kiss kiss" yesterday, complete with smacking noise. Adorable.
5. Hubs made his first visit to a club while I was working. This was rather nerve wracking in the lead up, but actually turned out to be a lot of fun and not stressful or awkward at all. He watched me perform a 4 song podium set, and get right down to my skimpy g-banger, and loved it! I wasn't sure how the night was going to go. You really can't be 100% sure how your other half is going to react to seeing you grind up and down on others just because they've handed over a bill of some sort. It helped that due to an illness and some very necessary antibiotics, Hubbalicious couldn't drink, and therefore was stone cold sobre for the experience. In the end, he sat with a loud drunk lesbian and a couple regular guys I have seen before, and convinced them all to hand over their cash generously and often. We didn't tell anyone he was my other half, and pretended we'd never met before. Thanks to the team effort, my 4 song stage show netted us a cool $190. Way to go baby, we'll be doing that again soon for sure!
I have more, but bubs is waking up, and today is chores in town day. Bill paying, plane ticket booking, and the like. I am off to work again this weekend, and hopefully soon I have a small discreet tape recorder so I can share with you, word for word, some of the conversations I've been a part of lately. They're pretty hilarious.
P.S. My landlord dropped over yesterday, unannounced. As they do in small towns, I gather. House was a bomb as we'd only just got back late the day before, but he shrugged, and . That man can talk a blue streak, and eventually I just carried on with my chores in the kitchen at the same time. I cleaned counters, washed dishes, and swept the floor while he sat and drank a coffee and told me the latest Charters Towers gossip. There's no way to see the back of him for a good 45 minutes, I know from experience, but its always an entertaining hour or so.
Alright, enough procrastinating! I'm off!
1. I learned that pre-meditated "accidental" drink dumping by strippers onto jack-ass customers is kind of....discreetly permitted by the management at my favourite club. I think this is hilarious. I witnessed a red cordial/club soda concoction soak the white cotton clad back of one particularly repugnant customer. Some of it went in my shoe and soaked into my fishnet stockings, but it was worth it to be within 3 feet of that dude's facial expression as the first wave bubbled down over his forehead.
2. My little micro-family of 3 have had loads of quality time together lately. Presley is such a champion traveler, and we've spent a collective 30 + hours in the car with him this past 2 weeks. We have slept in 8 different houses in the last 16 days, and he just takes everything as it comes. Eats anything, sleeps anywhere, loves meeting EVERYONE. Am I bragging? You bet your ass. I am in total awe of my 11 month old. I can not believe that in less than a month I am not going to have a baby-baby anymore. This little thing will be a toddler. Guess who's getting clucky? But for now, we have a 12 month plan which involves me working, and I'm keeping a firm rein on baby mania. I got an implenon last week. Hurt like a bitch, (ocal anesthetic my ass) but cost literally less than 10% of the non-hormonal version I used in Canada. Huh. That was a pleasant surprise. The 99.99% effective IUD didn't work for us, so I'm not, you know, 100% certain about this implenon bit's 99.5% effective rate for me, but we'll see how it goes.
3. I've worked a couple weekends, in a couple different cities since I spoke last. Every weekend seems to have one shit night, one average night, and one redeeming night. In no particular order, mind you. This past week, Thursday was killer and Friday was the biggest waste of time. The weekend before, Thursday I might as well have stayed home, but Saturday I made $450 more than I usually do. But no matter what, I seem to make the same roughly every weekend, and its a good solid figure that works out to be very much worth my time. I think it's about half luck, half hustling skills. (My hustling skills suck but I seem to get lucky alot, falling into pre-arranged fantasies, or duos at least once every weekend. And that folks, is all it takes to be a good working shift) I miss Prezler and Hubs, but the time we do spend together is even more awesome because it always feels too short. Before I know it, I'm back on the road again, wondering what they are having mushed up for dinner tonight, and waiting for picture texts to come through to make me smile.
4. Presley started crabwalking sideways yesterday, and today he learned how to "wipe wipe" his face with a baby wipe, and wipe mine too. She will be toddling along on her own any day now. I'm terrified that I'm going to be away and miss that moment. Statistically its pretty likely. BUT, I did watch her learn how to give a "kiss kiss" yesterday, complete with smacking noise. Adorable.
5. Hubs made his first visit to a club while I was working. This was rather nerve wracking in the lead up, but actually turned out to be a lot of fun and not stressful or awkward at all. He watched me perform a 4 song podium set, and get right down to my skimpy g-banger, and loved it! I wasn't sure how the night was going to go. You really can't be 100% sure how your other half is going to react to seeing you grind up and down on others just because they've handed over a bill of some sort. It helped that due to an illness and some very necessary antibiotics, Hubbalicious couldn't drink, and therefore was stone cold sobre for the experience. In the end, he sat with a loud drunk lesbian and a couple regular guys I have seen before, and convinced them all to hand over their cash generously and often. We didn't tell anyone he was my other half, and pretended we'd never met before. Thanks to the team effort, my 4 song stage show netted us a cool $190. Way to go baby, we'll be doing that again soon for sure!
I have more, but bubs is waking up, and today is chores in town day. Bill paying, plane ticket booking, and the like. I am off to work again this weekend, and hopefully soon I have a small discreet tape recorder so I can share with you, word for word, some of the conversations I've been a part of lately. They're pretty hilarious.
P.S. My landlord dropped over yesterday, unannounced. As they do in small towns, I gather. House was a bomb as we'd only just got back late the day before, but he shrugged, and . That man can talk a blue streak, and eventually I just carried on with my chores in the kitchen at the same time. I cleaned counters, washed dishes, and swept the floor while he sat and drank a coffee and told me the latest Charters Towers gossip. There's no way to see the back of him for a good 45 minutes, I know from experience, but its always an entertaining hour or so.
Alright, enough procrastinating! I'm off!
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