Tales from the Boobie Bar!
Sorry about the posting lull. Real life and whatnot.
This man, at least, gets points for creativity.
So, going around for my tips. As usual. I approach two older gents with my normal cheerful greeting. I happened to be wearing a plain black thong that ties at the sides. This was last week, before I re-dyed my hair black, so my roots (which are red) were coming in.
Gentleman 1 notices the hair, and asks if I'm red "all over". Hurr. I reply sweetly that it would certainly stand to reason. He asks if he can see my pootie, I decline. Then:
Guy 1= You should take off your thong, and wear it like an eyepatch!
Me= o.O
Guy 1= You'd be like a pirate!
Me= I'm on the other side of the pirate/ninja debate, I'm afraid.
Guy 1= The what?
Me= Never mind.
Guy 1= So...c'mon! I wanna see you do it! It'd be funny!
Me= That's a no. But I do commend your creativity in your attempt to see my Promised Land.
Guy 1= :(
At least he wasn't a dick about it.
And now, for a couch dance asshole.
An older guy and a younger guy come in. The younger guy watches my stage set, tips me when I come around, compliments me/my music/my dancing/my outfit/etc., cool. As the two men are the only two customers at that point (we'd just opened, it was early afternoon), I re-dressed and had a seat at the unofficial "employee end" of the bar. The young guy got up, went to the ATM, went back to his seat, then a few moments later walked over to me (all excited, like a puppy) and asked if I did dances. I replied that I did, and took him back to the dance room.
At this point, I'm thinking good customer. He seems all super-excited about getting a dance from me, which is sort of cute in a weird way (preferable to the pervy way). He pays, picks a couch, and sits down.
I start to dance for him, and he immediately puts his hands on my hips. I stop, gently remove his hands, and tell him he has to keep them up on the couch in a gentle voice. He does so, but then asks:
"Is that YOUR rule, or the bars rule?"
I reply, "It's my rule, the bars rule, and the law, so it works out pretty well that way." Still sweet and smiling and cheerful.
So I continue to dance. My couch dances are a mix of dance and gymnastics, I guess-handstands, odd balancing positions, etc., all while undulating and managing to look sexy. It's quite hard work, believe it or not.
The dance ends, and as usual I offer my hands to help the patron up. I'm sweating, breathing heavy, and tired, but I thank him with a smile, and he says:
"I guess it was okay. I mean, it could have been WAY better."
...
My question is, what kind of 'way better' do these motherfuckers honestly expect for $20? You (general you) just had a woman of your choice dance in front of/on you, JUST FOR YOU, in a private room, for four minutes (it's precisely timed). If you want a woman to do all that, AND let you grope all over her for $20, go down the city. Otherwise, STFU and appreciate, dammit.
This last guy...urgh. This story did not happen to me, but to a co-worker, C.
As a bit of backstory-dancers at my club are allowed to drink 3 total drinks while on shift. We can't have the drinks up in the dressing room, and we can't leave our drinks in the DJ booth. The dancers themselves refuse to leave their drinks with the customers, just in case.
A customer bought C a drink. Since C had to go up onstage right after, she did what she figured to be the safest thing and put her drink down by the managers end of the bar.
It seems that the customer watched and waited for the managers to vacate that area of the bar temporarily, and slipped pills in her drink.
Yes, he drugged my co-worker.
She has zero recollection of that night, including the identity of the customer. Thankfully, she was with the girls and the bouncers, who called her husband to come get her-so she came to no harm.
So yeah. Now, we say fuck the rules, and leave our drinks with the DJ (who is sober and watches them like a hawk). We've had no issues since.
Brr.
But some thanks-
A special thanks to the guy who came in, all THUG LYFE'd out, flashing gang signs and whatnot-I about busted a gut laughing when dancer W, who is from the city, asked where you were from, and you responded (perfectly serious), "Yo, SELLERSVILLE, DAWG! REPRESEEEEEEEEENT!" Could not. Stop. Laughing. (Those of you in my area of PA might be the only ones to get why that's hilarious.)
Also thanks to the young kid (21, maybe 22) who came in last night, thought I was wonderful, and was so afraid of offending me that it was adorable. He thought it'd be disrespectful to throw money on the stage while I danced, and I had to convince him that it was really okay, if he wanted to, he could. He behaved well (if was a bit nervous) during his couch dance, and tipped me an extra $10 on top of it. Kid, you were adorable, come back anytime.
And to dancer J for being a really good sport and dancing to (and making it work!) every cheesy song the DJ and I could think of ^.^
This man, at least, gets points for creativity.
So, going around for my tips. As usual. I approach two older gents with my normal cheerful greeting. I happened to be wearing a plain black thong that ties at the sides. This was last week, before I re-dyed my hair black, so my roots (which are red) were coming in.
Gentleman 1 notices the hair, and asks if I'm red "all over". Hurr. I reply sweetly that it would certainly stand to reason. He asks if he can see my pootie, I decline. Then:
Guy 1= You should take off your thong, and wear it like an eyepatch!
Me= o.O
Guy 1= You'd be like a pirate!
Me= I'm on the other side of the pirate/ninja debate, I'm afraid.
Guy 1= The what?
Me= Never mind.
Guy 1= So...c'mon! I wanna see you do it! It'd be funny!
Me= That's a no. But I do commend your creativity in your attempt to see my Promised Land.
Guy 1= :(
At least he wasn't a dick about it.
And now, for a couch dance asshole.
An older guy and a younger guy come in. The younger guy watches my stage set, tips me when I come around, compliments me/my music/my dancing/my outfit/etc., cool. As the two men are the only two customers at that point (we'd just opened, it was early afternoon), I re-dressed and had a seat at the unofficial "employee end" of the bar. The young guy got up, went to the ATM, went back to his seat, then a few moments later walked over to me (all excited, like a puppy) and asked if I did dances. I replied that I did, and took him back to the dance room.
At this point, I'm thinking good customer. He seems all super-excited about getting a dance from me, which is sort of cute in a weird way (preferable to the pervy way). He pays, picks a couch, and sits down.
I start to dance for him, and he immediately puts his hands on my hips. I stop, gently remove his hands, and tell him he has to keep them up on the couch in a gentle voice. He does so, but then asks:
"Is that YOUR rule, or the bars rule?"
I reply, "It's my rule, the bars rule, and the law, so it works out pretty well that way." Still sweet and smiling and cheerful.
So I continue to dance. My couch dances are a mix of dance and gymnastics, I guess-handstands, odd balancing positions, etc., all while undulating and managing to look sexy. It's quite hard work, believe it or not.
The dance ends, and as usual I offer my hands to help the patron up. I'm sweating, breathing heavy, and tired, but I thank him with a smile, and he says:
"I guess it was okay. I mean, it could have been WAY better."
...
My question is, what kind of 'way better' do these motherfuckers honestly expect for $20? You (general you) just had a woman of your choice dance in front of/on you, JUST FOR YOU, in a private room, for four minutes (it's precisely timed). If you want a woman to do all that, AND let you grope all over her for $20, go down the city. Otherwise, STFU and appreciate, dammit.
This last guy...urgh. This story did not happen to me, but to a co-worker, C.
As a bit of backstory-dancers at my club are allowed to drink 3 total drinks while on shift. We can't have the drinks up in the dressing room, and we can't leave our drinks in the DJ booth. The dancers themselves refuse to leave their drinks with the customers, just in case.
A customer bought C a drink. Since C had to go up onstage right after, she did what she figured to be the safest thing and put her drink down by the managers end of the bar.
It seems that the customer watched and waited for the managers to vacate that area of the bar temporarily, and slipped pills in her drink.
Yes, he drugged my co-worker.
She has zero recollection of that night, including the identity of the customer. Thankfully, she was with the girls and the bouncers, who called her husband to come get her-so she came to no harm.
So yeah. Now, we say fuck the rules, and leave our drinks with the DJ (who is sober and watches them like a hawk). We've had no issues since.
Brr.
But some thanks-
A special thanks to the guy who came in, all THUG LYFE'd out, flashing gang signs and whatnot-I about busted a gut laughing when dancer W, who is from the city, asked where you were from, and you responded (perfectly serious), "Yo, SELLERSVILLE, DAWG! REPRESEEEEEEEEENT!" Could not. Stop. Laughing. (Those of you in my area of PA might be the only ones to get why that's hilarious.)
Also thanks to the young kid (21, maybe 22) who came in last night, thought I was wonderful, and was so afraid of offending me that it was adorable. He thought it'd be disrespectful to throw money on the stage while I danced, and I had to convince him that it was really okay, if he wanted to, he could. He behaved well (if was a bit nervous) during his couch dance, and tipped me an extra $10 on top of it. Kid, you were adorable, come back anytime.
And to dancer J for being a really good sport and dancing to (and making it work!) every cheesy song the DJ and I could think of ^.^