Monday, February 07, 2011

The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost

Strip club lockers are like dryers. Shit gets lost. Socks, garters, body spray... it ends up falling into some void in the back of the damned locker. In some other universe, there is a black, black void. In this black void floats all the missing stripper gear. A single pink fishnet thigh high floats by. A rogue thong zooms past your head. It's like Peter F. Hamilton sat in a Victoria's Secret dressing room and wrote a novel about it.

You will give up hope on that limited edition pink lip gloss and go through your mourning period. You will move on to a new shade, because deep down in your heart you know that Placid Pussy Pink would want you to move on and find happiness. After months with Melodious Mauve, what happens? The Void spits your beloved lost gloss back out and you have to go to couples counseling with both shades. Or you can go strip in Utah and keep them both. Maybe start a lip gloss harem.

It's so common that it becomes totally normal shit to hear a stripper squeal with delight "OH EM GEE I just found my Aqua Net 40 gallon can from 1988!" or "So THAT'S where my luck purple bedazzled micro thong with the butt tassels went! I haven't worn this since that night I danced for JFK Jr!"

But there is a big difference between the Dryer Void and the Stripper Locker Void. If you lose a generic white sock in the dryer, you go put on a different pair. One of the 30 pairs you have neatly lined up in your OCD-complaint dresser drawers. When a stripper loses her most beloved Champagne Fantasy Sugar Candy body spray with moisturizing jojoba sparkles? End Of The World. The Cupcake Couture spray just WILL NOT DO. It's like being in one of those weird V8 commercials. And how the fuck are you supposed to do a Double Upside Down Spiraling Superman on the pole when you're constantly at a 45 degree angle?