Your Neighborhood Professional Deviant

There is something about nudity that breaks the brain. That numbs the senses. That turns people kinda stupid.   Not all people, but enough to make the pattern quite noticeable.   One such nudity-induced derp is the inability to recognize a stripper when they have their Civilian Clothes on.     No, seriously... It happens to Me all of the time.   It's like some sort of Superman Syndrome.     Change Clark Kent's attire and no one knows who he is? Really?   Put jeans and a tee shirt on a stripper and people draw a blank? Jeebus...     Yeah yeah... I know. "But Paige, dudes at strip clubs aren't looking at your face LOL!" but really... they are. Most of the customers that I've entertained over the years have made excellent eye contact. Am I unusually blessed? I really don't think so.   When I'm at a strip club, I LOVE to People Watch. Strip clubs are amazing venues for such an activity. Add to that the 19.5...

Between common sense, pride, and a bit of OCD, I always have some sort of perfume or body spray on. And that’s after I’m scrubbed clean Like A Boss. Hygiene is awesome. Whenever a customer at the bar compliments My scent, I always thank him and reply with “Cause no one likes a stinky stripper!” Duh. It can’t get more Truth than that. Well, ok maybe there is a guy out there with a Stinky Stripper Fetish. But, for the most part, customers appreciate a lack of stank on their adult entertainers. Guys... Dudes... Fellas... Homies... We strippers like a lack of stank on our customers, too. Quid Pro Quo up in this bitch. Ok? For those lacking any sense of Commonly Used Latin, it means This For That. As in, we bathe, so you should too. I don’t know the Latin for “wash your ass” but whatever it is, I want to burn it onto a 2 x 4 and beat some stanky dudes with it. Seriously. Nothing makes a lapdance harder to do than trying not to pass out from your foul odor. We have to be all cute, be all gr...

Some establishments have dress codes. Some are just the choice of the owners, some are common sense. Like you don’t wear a ball gown to work at Arby’s. Like you don’t wear a bikini to a 4 star restaurant. Like you don’t wear jeans to the gym. Speaking of the gym… hey guys? Can you wear your gym clothes to the gym, but not to the titty bar? I know sweats and jogging pants are comfy and shit like that, but seriously? I DON’T WANT TO FEEL YOUR PENIS ON MY THIGH. This blog post is for both types of Gym Clothes Customers. 1st we have the dude who honestly doesn’t know that it’s creepy, gross, and skeevy to get lapdances while wearing gym clothes. There’d be less friction if I stuck a whisk up My cooter. Seriously. Kitchen utensils violating My uterus would be 100 times better than feeling your erection through polyester. Write this shit down because there WILL be a pop quiz. PS: I can’t speak for every chick out there who doesn’t hate the dick, but I personally think that any dude that wea...

An instance where beating someone with the STFUGTFO stick is a reasonable reaction: When a guy's intro to wanting to buy a dance from you is “Yeeeaaaahhhh.... I married a stripper once. So you know I am SO all about rockin the pussy! Let's dance!” That's supposed to be encouraging, how? Oh, but it gets better... when you decline he tries to taunt you with “Well, I guess I'll just go spend this ten dollars elsewhere huh?” You do that, assbag. No one here cares that, once upon a time, a woman in the same line of work as us had to put up with you. Not our problem. Not our concern. If we did give a shit, we’d be spending an awful lot of our hard earned cash on condolence cards for all of these women we hear so much about. And why should it matter that your ex was a stripper? Does that magically enhance your manliness and prowess? Does that give you +7 Stud? Is it better than having married a bank teller or a chef? Is that an upgrade from, perhaps, the cashier at Burger King...

Fuck yer gold rings. I'll take a brass pole over the gold rings any day! Back by popular demand, a parody I came up with some years back. I won't write out the WHOLE DAMN SONG, so you just get the list. Feel free to show it around, but please give me some props for the lyrics ;) The 12 Days of Stripmas is © Moi dammit. Don't make Me kick you. 12 strippers stripping (duh) 11 drunkards drinking 10 folded dollars 9 losers groping 8 bitches bitching 7 cheap asses staring 6 inch stilettos FIVE MORE SHOTS 4 purple bruises 3 stolen thongs 2 lines of coke and half my money goes to the bar!

Are ya'll ready for another product review? Today's review is for a dress from BodyKandi.com . They have a gorgeous, and user-friendly website, and good prices! I was quite excited to peruse their wares. I ended up choosing this dress , with plans to use it for one of My UV parties at Tootsy's. I wasn't 100% positive that the ribbons would react under black light, but I was willing to give it a shot, and the dress is simple enough that adding to it wouldn't be an issue. Here is what it looks like on the model: I emailed back and forth with Shannon, who was a total sweetie, and the dress arrived in good time. Perfect timing, actually, for the event! This was how the dress arrived in the mail, complete with a nice note from the company! Very nice of them to do so :D Here's the dress, fresh out of the packaging: It came laced up with the pink ribbons, and had the green ribbons separately packaged. It also came with a matching thong. The thong is small on Me, low in...

Time to do the first review of a "strippish" song. Strippish? Yes. These are songs that mention strippers, stripping, and/or strip clubs in at least a few lines. I've heard tons of them, and a lot of them really are giving out the wrong messages! So, let's begin. Artist(s): Lil Jon & The Eastside Boyz (feat. Pleasure P & Shawty Putt) Song: Like A Stripper Lemme see you go round an round Lemme see you go round an round Lemme see you go round an round Lemme see you go round an round Stilettos, she in the middle of the floor Need a medal for all the junk up in her trunk Shawty dance like stripper She dance like a stripper She dance like a stripper When she dips in your patron Get to the party (party) like she workin on the floor Shawty got it (got it) when she drop it outta control Shawty dance like a stripper She dance like a stripper She dance like a stripper When she pop that catalog Shake it off (shake it off) Shake it down (shake it down) Don't stop (don...

I love Karma. And this is not going to be a discussion about any of the girls I've danced with who used that name. No, this is about the Real Deal. Karma. I consider Myself to be honest about a lot of things that some other dancers aren't honest about. If you accidentally tip Me a $50 instead of a $5, I will give it back to you. That's just how I am. Once, a girl dropped 14 $100 bills on the floor at the IR2. I gave it all back to her. I got some flack for that from other dancers. They would have kept it! Not Me... if I had been the one to lose My cash, I'd be SO thankful for it's return. Likewise if I tipped a $50 by accident. Dark clubs don't help eye sight. But anyways. A while back, several Mondays ago, was a case of Karma AND of the rare occasion that I won't hand back that big bill... There was this 20something douche of a dude in the bar. He had been there most of the day, drinking. By late night he was a Royal Asshat. He was pissing off the dancers, ...

Ok kids, let's talk about eye contact in strip clubs. Eyes communicate on their own. In their own way. They are VERY helpful to us dancin ladies. Here are some examples of customer eye messages that need to get lost: Darting your already nervous eyes around the club. This might infer that you don't trust us, you aren't sure if you SHOULD trust us, you think someone in the room is out to get you, or you're a shady creep who is probably looking to commit your 4th homicide. This look, for any and all of it's reasons? Strippers do NOT like it. Don't do it. If you MUST do it to survive? Go to a jewelry store or an airport and try that shit. Much more LULZ. The ever popular "I ain't impressed by dis here broad. I can fuck plenty of chicks hotter than her" smug smirk. With the crossed arms, and the far lean back on the chair. This is the face of a dude who thinks that every single female in the place, employee or not, is looking at him at all times a...

Something in the news has me bristled... because I've seen/heard about this too often. FORT MYERS BEACH, Fla. — A man is charged with grand theft for allegedly swiping a stripper's tips from her garter belt. The crime happened at Fantasy's at the Beach off San Carlos Boulevard on Jan. 9. The woman told deputies a man, later identified as 19-year-old Ronnie Menard, told her he wanted a lap dance. When she came offstage and asked him if he was ready, he said he wasn't because he had to go home and get money. A few minutes later, the woman said Menard approached her again and asked her to sit with him. She sat down and said Menard was eager to receive the dance immediately. As he was insisting on getting the lap dance, the woman said she felt her garter snap and then Menard jumped up and ran out of the strip club. She yelled for someone to stop him, but he got away. The woman said she had $314 in her garter, which she had counted after paying the manager the house percenta...

Had another Strip Club Dream. The big difference between this one and the others is that there were no people from any club I actually know. Usually someone I know/work with/used to work with is in the dream. Not this one. It was a HUGE club. Warehouse huge. Walmart huge. Jesus Fuck huge. A lot of dark woods and dark red leather seating. Very elegant place for something so massive. It was a classy club, and not the kind I could get into as is. Pink hair + lots of ink = Snowball In Hell. But there I was, and I was rockin it too. Of course, I could work the pole like mad in the dream... unlike Real Life. Someday I will learn 1337 pole skills. Someday! Another oddity in this dream was that none of the lockers had locks. The girls all trusted each other. Pfffffffffffthahahahaaahahahahahahahahahaaa don't we wish it were really like that? LMFAO!

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 squ...

I often dream about stripping. I have yet to delve into whether or not that is a good thing. The one thing that all of the stripping dreams have in common is that they are supposed to take place where I am currently working, but the club interior never looks right. Sometimes it's grand and better looking. Sometimes it isn't. Take the last two dreams for instance... In one, Tootsy's looked more like an old saloon. Lots of wood and a rustic feel to it. The stage, however... this I just don't have an explanation for. It was built more like the stage at the Fickle Filly out on Long Island. Plain, built into the wall like an alcove, and no pole. Barely room to walk around. The odd part? The stage floor was made out of mattresses. Yeah. Mattresses. Try fumbling around on those in heels! WTF. In the dream I had today, I was in this fancy club. The stage had tiers, and each tier had a pole or two, a fainting couch, and other swanky decor. The customers all had on tuxedos and go...

The blow up doll of doom LOL. Specifically, the blow up doll of doom for Lee's birthday. She's supposed to be Belladonna but... hur hur.

Rockin the New Year at Tootsy's!

I took O Christmas Tree, and stripper-fied it. This parody is © Me, Myself, and PDW INC. O Nudie Bar! O nudie bar! Thy smell is so unchanging; O nudie bar! O nudie bar! Thy smell is so unchanging; Not only stale with lots of beers, But also sprays and cigs and tears. O nudie bar! O nudie bar! Thy smell is so unchanging! O nudie bar! O nudie bar! Much headaches thou can'st give me; O nudie bar! O nudie bar! Much headaches thou can'st give me; How often has the nudie bar Afforded me the biggest pain! O nudie bar! O nudie bar! Much headaches thou can'st give me. O nudie bar! O nudie bar! Thy stage lights shine so brightly! O nudie bar! O nudie bar! Thy stage lights shine so brightly! From stage to pole, painf'ly bright, There's only strobes half the night. O nudie bar! O nudie bar! Thy stage lights shine so brightly! O nudie bar! O nudie bar! How poorly dudes have tipped me! O nudie bar! O nudie bar! How poorly dudes have tipped me! Thou bidst us sober and classy be, A...

"Man approaches the unattainable truth through a succession of errors." Let us chat, for a moment, about the unattainable. More so, about the invisible rule that people want what they cannot have. Let us discuss how rampant this rule runs in strip clubs. For every non-stripper job I have done in strip clubs, I've always done Myself up to look presentable. I may not have been the entertainment, but I was part of the appearance of the club. So yeah. I looked good at all times when working. Be it when I managed, waited tables, door wenched, house mommed, tended bar... the men would just flock to Me, demanding dances. Uh, sorry dudes... not the dancer. And they'd moan and groan, woe and angst. It's insane! They still do it when I'm the door wench at Tootsy's. This phenomenon is everywhere, from what I gather from my fellow strippers. If you aren't a stripper, or are a female customer, they want you BADLY . So badly. When you finally don the clear heels an...

It's gotten to the point where I don't go out much. I'm a bum like that. When I do go out, it's usually right to Tootsy's! Yep, I spend my nights off at work. But I know the faces, I tend not to pay for drinks, and I feel safe there. It's almost always a fun time. I also get to support my friends while the work. Makes Me wonder how many strippers go to their own bar for a drink on their own time. How many are just "Ew I hate it there as it is!" and only go when they have to. I can really only think of one bar that I've danced at that I've never hung out at on Non Work Time. Maybe I'm just a nudie bar addict? I did start out as a customer. A regular no less!

Ribbit. XD I got these stickers from some of the team when they ventured into Tootsy's last Monday. They stuck a few into My tip bucket along with some cash. Real nice dudes. :)

Fuck you, Boxing Day . And take St Stephen with you. Once upon a time, in 1977, your beloved Hostess was supposed to be born on Christmas Day. Yeah, and I was going to be named Noel. Thankfully, on that part, I was stubborn. My great aunt's dog was named Noel. Do I fucking look like Indiana Jones? Despite My penchant for whips... So 4ish hours late, there I was. All cute and newborn and cranky at the chilly hospital air. Happy birthday to Me. Oh, also Happy Boxing Day! For a while, it was rather ace to have a birthday the day after Christmas. Extra presents! Wooohooo! Oodles of gifts for miles. My mother's side of the family did well and, in general, the presents were a plenty. This was until I turned oh... maybe 12? Then it was "oh hay, have a combination present !" ... Let's examine this with some visual aids, shall we? This is a standard calender for the month of December. Do we see how the 25th and the 26th have separate boxes? Yes well, I tried to explain to ...