Tales Of The Psychic Deviant
Or is that Psycho Deviant? I'm never sure...
When I arrived at Tootsy's Monday evening for My shift as your resident Awesome Door Wench, I got this overwhelming feeling that it was going to be a Strange Night. Not Monetarily Bad, or Violently Dramatic... Just... Strange.
The pre-wenching was rather normal. I sat at the far end of the bar, feeding dollars into the touch screen machine that has claimed My soul.
A nice, refreshing Malibu & Pineapple was sipped after My first 2 Diet Cokes of the night. I chattered with Kaylee and Aenea (My River whom I adore as her Inara), and My wifey, Sonyia. I had to break a few hearts by telling newbie customers that no, I wasn't dancing. Heh. The usual. But that feeling nagged at the back of My mind...
8pm rolled around and it was Door Wenching Time!!!
*DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN*
I stripped off My Playboy tee to reveal My... well, My Playboy bikini top (why ruin a good theme?). I adorned Myself in a rhinestone choker, rhinestone teardrop earrings, and some large stoned bracelets (all of which you'll see later on in the 365 postings). I gathered up My drawer for the evening, and the roster of dancers, and headed to My lil corner of NFL doldrums.
Well, I can most easily sum up the evening's weirdness with numbers. Math IS sexy, afterall...
I made $25 in tips total.
I was smelled 5 times by 5 separate people.
1 stripper argued with 4 people.
3 strippers left in tears at the end of the night.
4 girls partook in Not Pot.
1 DJ was stressed out.
6 people thought it was genius to go to a tittie bar with no identification of any kind.
1 horrible stripper got called by the name of 1 other, horrible stripper by accident... 2 times.
4 strippers bitched about having to pay extra house fees.
I had 1 headache that lasted 6 hours.
And there you have it.
When I arrived at Tootsy's Monday evening for My shift as your resident Awesome Door Wench, I got this overwhelming feeling that it was going to be a Strange Night. Not Monetarily Bad, or Violently Dramatic... Just... Strange.
The pre-wenching was rather normal. I sat at the far end of the bar, feeding dollars into the touch screen machine that has claimed My soul.
A nice, refreshing Malibu & Pineapple was sipped after My first 2 Diet Cokes of the night. I chattered with Kaylee and Aenea (My River whom I adore as her Inara), and My wifey, Sonyia. I had to break a few hearts by telling newbie customers that no, I wasn't dancing. Heh. The usual. But that feeling nagged at the back of My mind...
8pm rolled around and it was Door Wenching Time!!!
*DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN*
I stripped off My Playboy tee to reveal My... well, My Playboy bikini top (why ruin a good theme?). I adorned Myself in a rhinestone choker, rhinestone teardrop earrings, and some large stoned bracelets (all of which you'll see later on in the 365 postings). I gathered up My drawer for the evening, and the roster of dancers, and headed to My lil corner of NFL doldrums.
Well, I can most easily sum up the evening's weirdness with numbers. Math IS sexy, afterall...
I made $25 in tips total.
I was smelled 5 times by 5 separate people.
1 stripper argued with 4 people.
3 strippers left in tears at the end of the night.
4 girls partook in Not Pot.
1 DJ was stressed out.
6 people thought it was genius to go to a tittie bar with no identification of any kind.
1 horrible stripper got called by the name of 1 other, horrible stripper by accident... 2 times.
4 strippers bitched about having to pay extra house fees.
I had 1 headache that lasted 6 hours.
And there you have it.
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