Tales from the Boobie Bar!
One short one from Monday night, when I was not dancing-I was a bouncer :D
I was the 'watch-the-couch-dance-room' bouncer. Which entailed-yep, sitting there and watching dances and VIPs when they occured.
Happily, nobody tried anything on any of the girls in my little corner of the club.
So I'm sitting at my little table, marking down the last dance done on the sheet, when a customer approaches without a dancer with him.
Me=Yay :D
CC=Clueless Customer
CC=*walks up, abruptly asks* Aren't you a dancer?
Me=Normally, yes. I just felt like doing something different tonight.
CC=What do you mean by THAT? *staaaaaaaaaare*
Me=...I mean, I asked my manager if I could do some other job tonight, and he told me to bounce. So I am.
CC=OH. But, I mean...
Me=*quizzical look*
CC=You're a GIRL. *points*
Me=And you're clearly very observant.
CC=Girls CAN'T be bouncers. *disdainful sniff*
Me=And why is that?
CC=Cuz you're weaker than us!
Me=Care to test that theory, Sparky? *toothy grin*
CC=...well, I mean, no...I'm just saying...you know, you're a girl and all...
Me=I wouldn't be doing this job if my manager didn't know damn well that I could. Don't worry, I'll keep the girls safe. *smilesmile*
CC=Oh. Uh, okay. *wanders off*
I'm about tired of this 'you can't, cuz you're a GIRL' crap. I heard it when I did construction, and roofing, and cell phone sales, and electronic sales, insurance adjustment, and when I fix computers. Of it. Tired. I am.
Girls CAN do whatever the fuck they are physically and mentally able to. Thank you.
And now for today, when I was dancing :D
Two guys come in. Regulars, they seem to know one of the dancers fairly well. Okay.
I go around for tips after my set.
Me=Bewbs! :D
G1=Guy 1
G2=Guy 2
Me=*approaches G1, smiles brightly* Hi there!
G1=YOU DON'T TALK VERY MUCH.
Me=o.O I said hello.
G1=Yeah, but like, you don't talk much!
Me=I don't talk just to hear my own voice, no. I talk when there's a reason to. *smile*
G2=OH HEY THERE
Me=Hi! *waves*
G1=So you're like one of those girls that are all barefoot and eyes cast down, right? *laughs heartily*
Me=o_O? Hardly.
G2=HEY WHAT DOES THE TATTOO ON YOUR BACK SAY?!
Me=Squirrel. (*Link for the curious*)
G2=Is it like, written backwards or something?
Me=No, it's written in cursive.
G2=Oh well I think you should get it again but backwards so you have to look in a mirror to read it!
Me=Nnnno.
G1=So you're really shy huh?
Me=Dude? I take off my clothes for money in front of throngs of people. I'm not sure which definition of 'shy' that fits.
G1=WOULD YOU TALK TO ME MORE IF I HAD LIKE A BIG SPIKY MOHAWK?!
Me=o.O No, why?
G1=Cuz you have tattoos and crazy hair!
Me=...o.O (I 'o.O''d a lot during this conversation) I don't really care much what my patrons look like.
G1=OH.
And they barely tipped the first set, and stopped altogether after that because I was 'too shy' for their liking.
Maybe not exactly suck, but kinda wtf. The stuff in caps is where they were yelling and gesticulating wildly, by the way.
And no entry is complete without a Grabby McGrabbyPants!
So, for one of my sets, I wore this kickass new outfit I just got. The bottoms are lace, not exactly a thong, but like small booty shorts, with a sheer veil hanging from the hip part to my ankles in the back. S'very pretty. Was also rather expensive. And thankfully, I had to wear a plain solid thong on under it because see through lace undies=a no go in my club.
So I'm doing my thing. Dancing, then went around for tips. Approached a middle aged guy who was sitting near the door. He tipped me once, then reached for another dollar, so I turned around (generally, we accept the first tip in the front, second in the back).
He reaches out, and yanks on the part of the lace shorts that eventually runs between my legs. And by yanked, I mean fucking yanked.
I slapped his hand and pulled away. "Dude, what the hell? No."
He looks offended. "But I was trying to tip you!"
I glare back. "Which is WHY I held out the SIDE for you. Besides, never YANK on a dancers clothes-you could rip it, this shit is expensive, and I have to pay for it myself out of pocket. Titty bar ettiquite, get with the program," and I snapped my fingers at him.
He huffs. I roll my eyes at him and walk off, muttering about how jackasses shouldn't be let out of the house without minders.
He left right after. And I found out that he tried to manhandle the tits of the girl right before me, too.
What a winner @_@
But thanks-
To that nice older man who comes in, loves when I dance to Jimi Hendrix, and told me I'm adorable and I brighten his day when he sees me.
To the dancers Monday night, especially S, for making my first night bouncing there pretty painless ^^
And to the guy who, when asked if he wanted a dance, said he'd rather give me $20 and have me sit with him awhile so that way I'd get all of the $20 ^^ (House takes out a fee, which this guy was somehow aware of.)