Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Chapter III: New Years' Strippin' Eve.
Having sex with a stripper is kind of like eating a box of Cracker Jacks when you already know what the prize is inside.


See if Forrest fucking Gump comes up with that kind of wisdom.

I've learned first-hand the issues that can come from bedding a stripper. Everyone I worked with has assured me that they have had to deal with some sort of aftermath from stripper-screwing. It was as though I was initiated into this fucked up industry.

Sweet.

So New Year's Eve comes up and I've signed on to DJ. That night I hooked up my awesome wireless microphone for the event. I was now able to roam around the bar and announce strippers' sets from the comfort of the bar, parking lot, or bathroom.

The evening went off almost without incident. One girl had to leave because of an emergency involving her abusive husband throwing her sister out of the house and then he got beat up by two guys because he started threatening the stripper when she showed up at the house and he ended up with five staples and 15 stitches in his face and he ended up spending the night at his Mother's house but the stripper was afraid to stay at their house so she was going to book herself into a motel that night and file a restraining order in the morning and HOLY FUCKING SHIT CAN YOU JUST GET UP ON THE STAGE AND STRIP?

As you can see, strippers are extremely difficult to work with. As far as I can tell, they all come complete with drama and a lot of weed. There are many roles in the strip club industry that ultimately are affected by the behavior of some dancers. Booking agents, managers, bartenders, and yes... the DJ have all rubbed their heads at the antics of a dancer at some point in their career. So you learn to distance yourself from the drama that naturally comes with a stripper. You don't answer the phone from a stripper at 4am. You don't give them a ride to work because they're having a fight with their boyfriend. You don't loan them money.

However they are fun to look at and they tip the bar staff at the end of the night; so you're stuck being nice to them. I kissed two different strippers at midnight New Years' 2006. Then they kissed each other. Aside from missing my friends at a party in Troutdale, I couldn't have been happier. My first New Years' Champagne toast was with my childhood friend Ryan (the bartender who got me the DJ gig) and the night and the crowd was pretty cool.

I keep saying I'm going to retire, but being paid in cash to play cool music, drink, look at strippers, and hang with my friends is hard to give up.

Next: Chapter IV: More about the girls I meet at the club. It's Hijinks I tell ya!

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