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!

Don't forget to request Chapter II (see blog below). I got a preowned Treo 600 and it's got a shitty camera built in. That hasn't kept me from taking pictures with it. Sweet!

Me and Nikki 12.29.05 at a Shari's at 3am.

Chapter 2 of the strip club DJ saga is too graphic for me to risk a family member getting a hold of it. Email me: gooch@goochonline.com and I'll send it to you in an email.

Question: Have you ever gone to a McDonald's drive-through, ordered a meal and gotten an extra cheeseburger for in the car so you wouldn't have to wait to get home to eat? You haven't? God, I'm a fat fuck.

I CANNOT DRINK AT NIGHT AND FALL ASLEEP FORGETTING TO TAKE MY FUCKING PILLS. I'm actually shaking with some full on depression that I keep telling myself is for no reason. I used the emotion, complete with tears, to finish the second strip club DJ chapter.

I did a toast last night to the two ex girlfriends that I don't talk to anymore: Cheryl and Meggan. Best wishes to you both.

STRIP CLUB DJ: CHAPTER ONE

I really liked a girl from September through November this year. We dated a little bit, both of us acknowledged that we weren't ready to date anyone including each other and gracefully slipped into the Friend Zone.

During that courtship, an opportunity arose to attend my friend Ryan's birthday party. These parties have been and continue to be limousined tours of strip clubs in Portland complemented by a steady intake of alcohol. Because the girl mentioned in the last paragraph hates strip clubs with somewhat of an indescribable passion, I declined the party invitation.

So, along comes December 1st. Traffic snarls caused me to exit the freeway onto Division street. I drove by a bar for whom the friend mentioned in the last paragraph works. I called to verify that he was in fact working at that moment and drove to Montego's; a strip club in southeast Portland.

I say hi to my friend, Ryan, and wish him a belated happy birthday. The bar was dark and empty with the exception of two strippers casually walking around the stage. I start to drink while Ryan and I bullshit about people we have collectively grown to know during the 25 years we've been friends. After an hour at the bar I notice the DJ booth and ask Ryan if I can play and announce songs for the two girls since a lone customer had made his way up to the "rack," or the stage where the dancers perform.

"These girls work for your tips and your tips alone!"

The DJ booth had the traditional dual CD arrangement with a mixing board. It also sported a computer with an enormous library of music. Using Windows Media Player, the DJ can queue up songs in advance and let the girls dance to them and simply announce the dancers' names and remind the customers to tip everyone. I grab the microphone and start throwing out the traditional lines and cheesy DJ voice I've heard strip club DJs use. "These girls work for your tips and your tips alone!" "The girls only strip for your tips... no greenery no scenery!" Etcetera, etcetera.

Apparently my over the top parody of every strip club DJ I've ever heard for the last 12 years sounded, well, like a real DJ. Ryan asked me if I'd like to work Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday evenings. I said I'd have to think about it. The negative social stigma of such an occupation. Who would want to date someone that works in a strip club? I didn't need the money. It would be a fun job, especially if I got to work with Ryan, my childhood friend since the age of 6. I contemplated the decision over my fourth Jack and diet Coke when I noticed the CD players both had some setting in place where the display read "REMAIN SINGLE." Someone who knows anything about CD DJ systems knows what that means. I have no fucking idea. I did however take it as a sign that I should quit trying to date girls, in fact remain single, and work at this club.

NEXT INSTALLMENT: THE UNFORESEEN ALLURE OF THE STRIP CLUB DJ.

CNN.com - Short glasses hold stronger drinks, study says - Dec 23, 2005

I'm about to enter into a diabetic induced coma from all of the See's candy I've eaten in the office in which I'm working. It's been a day. It's funny being downtown. Between pollsters, panhandlers, soapbox ministers, Salvation Army people, etc... I've never been approached by so many people that I really have no interest in talking to. You are never alone in Downtown Portland and sure as fuck never without someone willing to talk to you.

I'm missing electrolytes or something right now. Don't feel good. Depressed... guilty... something. Ugh. Need to finish Christmas shopping. Can't believe how busy I am. I have money but no time to spend it. It's like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife. That last blog should have said "quit" not "quite" in regards to my strip club career. I don't know... strippers have an expiration date when it comes to actually dealing with them. And thus, the milk has in fact gone bad.

#1: I'm going on razor strike starting today. Fuck shaving.

#2: I think I quite the strip club DJ thing last night. Last week I screwed a stripper. What more do I want? "Gooch," you ask... "two strippers?" No. My life need not be so shallow.

#3: I'm doing work for a Catholic radio station. Seriously making me think about church.

#4: A non-stripper had her feelings hurt when she came to visit me at the strip club last night and found out a dated one of the dancers. I'm not a feeling hurter by nature. Bummed me out.

#5: My ex girlfriend called me for the first time in a week and of course I'm drunk and of course we fight. For Christmas I want her and I to do something fun together and not fight. Seriously. I also want my Ex Cheryl to talk to me again. I guess they're exes for a reason, but goddammit they somehow added balance to my universe.

#6: I've been diagnosed with social anxiety disorder, general anxiety disorder, and I'm sure something else... yet I'm constantly putting myself in public places where I'm the center of attention. Fuck the DSM-IV.

#7: I've never been so driven as I am now. I love working. I don't break for anything like I used to. Focused... even my lunches are 110%. Eye of the Tiger. Cock of the walk. Whatever.

#8: I'm going to stay single until 2006! I'm almost there! Fucking Yay!

#9: I need a nap and I just woke up.

#10: Jon Bon Jovi: No one under the age of 30 cares about you, so quit putting 20-something extras in your video crowd. I'm not buying it and I'm sure no one else is either.

Have a nice day... indeed.

goochout.