Or maybe I'll go back to bed...
Uggggh, so tired. UUUUGGGHHHHHH.
It was my fiance's birthday yesterday (he turned 28, WE'RE GETTING OLD) and what started out with 'Oh, we'll just got out to dinner' turned into 'ooh, lets go get some quiet cocktails at our favourite bar!' and ended up 'OK FINE, lets go to a strip club!' Which it ALWAYS DOES and shouldn't have surprised me.
I don't have a problem with strip clubs, at least not the ones we have here in Melbourne. I think it's partly because I'm bi and I genuinely LIKE looking at naked girls dance around (obviously this hold little appeal to straight gals) and mostly because I used to, you know, strip in Melbourne strip clubs, and it would be hypocritical of me to have a problem with them now. I know that there are a lot of arguments against them - I got a lot of that when I was a stripper, I get a lot of it now I go to strip clubs - and while theoretically I agree with some of it, I just...
I don't know how to explain it. I think it has to do with personal experience. For the most part I had a good time being a stripper. I might be looking back with rose coloured glasses, and there WERE bits of the job I hated, but yeah, for the most part it was kinda fun. I love dancing. I loved dancing on stage. I loved how my body looked back then (and five years of little-to-no exercise has KILLED any dancer-sexiness my bod once had). I loved the money. I loved having sexual power over the guys. I never felt exploited, I never felt used, I rarely felt demeaned. When I did feel demeaned it was normally coming from the kind of guy who would demean women whether they had their clothes on or not. I loved that one night a guy gave me $400 just to sit and drink with him and chat about 70's rock bands. I loved that most of the other girls were exactly like me - uni students or just between jobs, normal girls who were low on cash and didn't want to work in an office. The career girls - the ones with fake tits and fake hair and super-killer-bodies - were normally totally lovely and just trying to make as much money as they could before they got too old or the looks started fading or they decided to, I dunno, get married/have kids/whatever. (and boy did they bank. I did ok as a stripper, because I was small and cute, but I'm not sexy, and I'd watch those girls go to work like damn. Gotta respect.)
And you know, for the most part, I even liked the guys. 85% of guys who go to strip clubs are scared shitless. About 10% are regulars, and know how to treat the girls right. 5% are dickheads who we'd get kicked out. (Of course, then there's bucks parties, where they're all dickheads because they're drunk and stupid. I fucking hated bucks parties. Luckily they were always so trashed that they didn't give a shit if you put in no effort). But yeah, a lot of them were nervous and sweet and didn't know what to do with themselves. As soon as you peeled them away from their mates they'd get all shy and goofy. "Guuuuh, lady no clothes on? Herp derpy derrrrp" And the arseholes were so easy to take care of - you just called the bouncer over and got 'em booted. Though to be honest, I can only think of a couple times I ever had to do that, and one of them was when I was working in a seedy peep-show place instead of the nicer clubs.
So yeah, that was my long-winded way of saying that I do enjoy going to strip clubs, and I'm not gonna be ashamed of it. Although it CAN be demoralising in the sense where it makes me want to go to the gym and eat nothing but spelt. Five years is a long time to not be a stripper, guys.
Hmmm. I just reread this, and I'm not sure how I come off. I just...I dunno. I don't politicize my attractions. I like girls of all types, ones who look like LynZ from MSI (see my journal header), ones who look like Nigella Lawson (currently my desktop background), ones who have tattoos and piercings, ones who look like sweet librarians. I'm into Kim Kardashian and Christina Hendricks and Crystal Renn and Michelle Rodriguez and Alona Tal and Zoe Saldana and Rosario Dawson and Angelina Jolie (like, her times fifty billion). I've currently got giant crushes on my trio of favourite singers - Florence Welch, Natasha Khan and Alison Goldfrapp. I've got a pretty huge thing for Amanda Righetti, especially when she's in her cop gear from The Mentalist (chicks with guns - hnnnnnng). I like GIRLS. They're GREAT. And as long as they're being treated well and seem happy and like they're having fun, I will continue to like them in strip clubs. And I will continue to be jealous that they have no cellulite and their arms don't wobble when they wave (I hate my arms. I miss my toned pole-dancer arms of yore, of current I resemble a trucker/lunch-lady hybrid. HOT, RIGHT?)
UGGGGHHH. This is what I get for trying to update on four hours sleep. The above may make NO SENSE. I think I need to go delve into the meme for a while to divest myself of thinky thoughts. Actually, I DO need to do that, because I've spent so much time scouring it and making sure I'm rounding up the fics and being worried about missing stuff that I haven't even been able to READ a lot of it, which is why my comments have been limited. Also, I didn't write as much as I'd like - five fics (four anon, which are so obvious I may as well have signed), not as good an effort as it coulda been. Running this thing was HARD.
BUT SO DAMN WORTH IT.
So I'm gonna go do that. I've got a few prompts I wanna get in (girl!Brad/girl!Ray, phonesex) and then I'm just gonna relax and read for a bit.
Once again, you guys all rock so hard. I love you all, and I can't believe we topped fifty fics. That is AMAZING.
--Beck
(Some of the fic I HAVE read was so filthy-hot that I had to reply anon. What have you guys done to me? I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE SHAME!!)
It was my fiance's birthday yesterday (he turned 28, WE'RE GETTING OLD) and what started out with 'Oh, we'll just got out to dinner' turned into 'ooh, lets go get some quiet cocktails at our favourite bar!' and ended up 'OK FINE, lets go to a strip club!' Which it ALWAYS DOES and shouldn't have surprised me.
I don't have a problem with strip clubs, at least not the ones we have here in Melbourne. I think it's partly because I'm bi and I genuinely LIKE looking at naked girls dance around (obviously this hold little appeal to straight gals) and mostly because I used to, you know, strip in Melbourne strip clubs, and it would be hypocritical of me to have a problem with them now. I know that there are a lot of arguments against them - I got a lot of that when I was a stripper, I get a lot of it now I go to strip clubs - and while theoretically I agree with some of it, I just...
I don't know how to explain it. I think it has to do with personal experience. For the most part I had a good time being a stripper. I might be looking back with rose coloured glasses, and there WERE bits of the job I hated, but yeah, for the most part it was kinda fun. I love dancing. I loved dancing on stage. I loved how my body looked back then (and five years of little-to-no exercise has KILLED any dancer-sexiness my bod once had). I loved the money. I loved having sexual power over the guys. I never felt exploited, I never felt used, I rarely felt demeaned. When I did feel demeaned it was normally coming from the kind of guy who would demean women whether they had their clothes on or not. I loved that one night a guy gave me $400 just to sit and drink with him and chat about 70's rock bands. I loved that most of the other girls were exactly like me - uni students or just between jobs, normal girls who were low on cash and didn't want to work in an office. The career girls - the ones with fake tits and fake hair and super-killer-bodies - were normally totally lovely and just trying to make as much money as they could before they got too old or the looks started fading or they decided to, I dunno, get married/have kids/whatever. (and boy did they bank. I did ok as a stripper, because I was small and cute, but I'm not sexy, and I'd watch those girls go to work like damn. Gotta respect.)
And you know, for the most part, I even liked the guys. 85% of guys who go to strip clubs are scared shitless. About 10% are regulars, and know how to treat the girls right. 5% are dickheads who we'd get kicked out. (Of course, then there's bucks parties, where they're all dickheads because they're drunk and stupid. I fucking hated bucks parties. Luckily they were always so trashed that they didn't give a shit if you put in no effort). But yeah, a lot of them were nervous and sweet and didn't know what to do with themselves. As soon as you peeled them away from their mates they'd get all shy and goofy. "Guuuuh, lady no clothes on? Herp derpy derrrrp" And the arseholes were so easy to take care of - you just called the bouncer over and got 'em booted. Though to be honest, I can only think of a couple times I ever had to do that, and one of them was when I was working in a seedy peep-show place instead of the nicer clubs.
So yeah, that was my long-winded way of saying that I do enjoy going to strip clubs, and I'm not gonna be ashamed of it. Although it CAN be demoralising in the sense where it makes me want to go to the gym and eat nothing but spelt. Five years is a long time to not be a stripper, guys.
Hmmm. I just reread this, and I'm not sure how I come off. I just...I dunno. I don't politicize my attractions. I like girls of all types, ones who look like LynZ from MSI (see my journal header), ones who look like Nigella Lawson (currently my desktop background), ones who have tattoos and piercings, ones who look like sweet librarians. I'm into Kim Kardashian and Christina Hendricks and Crystal Renn and Michelle Rodriguez and Alona Tal and Zoe Saldana and Rosario Dawson and Angelina Jolie (like, her times fifty billion). I've currently got giant crushes on my trio of favourite singers - Florence Welch, Natasha Khan and Alison Goldfrapp. I've got a pretty huge thing for Amanda Righetti, especially when she's in her cop gear from The Mentalist (chicks with guns - hnnnnnng). I like GIRLS. They're GREAT. And as long as they're being treated well and seem happy and like they're having fun, I will continue to like them in strip clubs. And I will continue to be jealous that they have no cellulite and their arms don't wobble when they wave (I hate my arms. I miss my toned pole-dancer arms of yore, of current I resemble a trucker/lunch-lady hybrid. HOT, RIGHT?)
UGGGGHHH. This is what I get for trying to update on four hours sleep. The above may make NO SENSE. I think I need to go delve into the meme for a while to divest myself of thinky thoughts. Actually, I DO need to do that, because I've spent so much time scouring it and making sure I'm rounding up the fics and being worried about missing stuff that I haven't even been able to READ a lot of it, which is why my comments have been limited. Also, I didn't write as much as I'd like - five fics (four anon, which are so obvious I may as well have signed), not as good an effort as it coulda been. Running this thing was HARD.
BUT SO DAMN WORTH IT.
So I'm gonna go do that. I've got a few prompts I wanna get in (girl!Brad/girl!Ray, phonesex) and then I'm just gonna relax and read for a bit.
Once again, you guys all rock so hard. I love you all, and I can't believe we topped fifty fics. That is AMAZING.
--Beck
(Some of the fic I HAVE read was so filthy-hot that I had to reply anon. What have you guys done to me? I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE SHAME!!)