Running From Grace

I am the kind of girl who moves to a new place every year. I do this because I can and I love changing things up every once in a while. Where I am now is beautiful, perfect, and I am very happy. Things couldn’t be going any better. I am continuing to do what I do best and I am so excited to see what life has in store for me. I hope everyone is having a great summer and when I get around to blogging again, I look forward to reading your wonderful comments. Take care!

Tara

I am going to take a break from RFG. At the moment, my head and my heart are not in my writing and I am having trouble keeping up with the blog. I will leave the site up for anyone who wants to comment. Hopefully I feel better soon.

When I first started dancing, I always admired the girls who could do the extreme pole tricks. Their agility was truly admirable and I never thought I would ever have the strength to keep up with them. Until now. It took me years but now I can confidently say I am one of those girls that can defy gravity. It all started with a move I tried on a spinning pole, a move that involved hooking my right leg around the pole and falling forward. For the first few months, I couldn’t do this without the help of my arms. Slowly and steadily I began to let go. The first time I did it with only my leg touching the pole, I felt absolutely amazing. Like I had accomplished an amazing feat. And the secret to my success wasn’t added muscle nor was it increased flexibility. It was sweat. That’s right… sweat. Apparently a little moisture on your skin helps out tremendously when you are learning how to do tricks. I had no idea this worked! Eventually, I did this move so many times that a callous began to develop on the back of my knee and now I can do the spin no matter what temperature my body is. If stripping were a “real job”, I would be getting a bonus for this!

So sweat is trick number one. The second trick I learned is to wear boots. No matter how easy a girl makes it look, climbing the pole is incredibly difficult. It is smooth, slippery, and alot of them tend to spin very very fast. Having upper body strength is key but you can take the easy way out like me and cover your calves with patent leather. This gives your arms a break when you are climbing because the boots stick to the pole, allowing your lower body to do some of the work as well. The pole at my club is huge and I love climbing all the way to the top. When I get up there, I swing my legs forward, catch with my dilapidated, calloused right knee, and spin all the way to the floor upside down and hands free. It looks HOT. And it fucking hurts. I am probably doing irrevocable damage to my leg but that’s what vitamins are for. Also, don’t forget to tip if you see a really cool trick. For most girls, it takes lots of practice to get that good and it always feels nice to know your hard work is appreciated.

I am debating on having one of the dancers take pictures of me doing some tricks.

Lately, it’s been hard for me to find the words. I used to dream up blog ideas while standing in line at the grocery store. While walking along the beach. Topics would hit me in the shower, in planes, during long drives to who knows where. And how I have lost this passion is beyond me. Perhaps I have run out of ideas to write about. I don’t think so. And then there is the fact that this blog was used to rip apart my entire family. That’s more like it. Either way, there is a huge wound on my heart that will not heal. A lot of people cope by relying on close friends to get them through the tough times. My friends don’t even know the real me. There are others that have fun, interesting hobbies to keep them distracted through the rough patches. My hobbies are writing and dancing. I often wonder why I was given this hand and whether or not I regret laying down certain cards. Was this blog worth the complete disconnection from those I love most? Is the money I make worth the secrets and the lies? Life is all about taking what you are given and making the most of it. I firmly believe that I do this each and every day, despite the fact that I work in a strip club. I stay above the drugs. The drama. The self esteem issues. And it turns out my writing, not my stripping job, is what ended up hurting me in the end. Now there is some fucking irony. When most kids were playing with dolls and toy cars, I was playing with words. Creating stories. Getting lost in worlds that were so much more peaceful than my own. How can I possibly regret this wonderful gift I was given? The answer is I don’t. Life is a gamble. There are times when you are up and times when you are down. There are times when the house takes you for all you are worth and you are left broken and alone. But the point is to stay in the game. At casinos, this is point you need to call a gambling addiction hotline. In life, this is the point you begin to fly.

Also on my mind today…

I am moving next month. Moving is an enormous pain in the ass.

I am visiting Europe for the first time ever next month. Italy, to be exact. Anyone out there have any tips for me? I take dollars and advice.

I am adding a new member to my family next month. Just FYI, my family consists of me and my cat. Stay tuned!

Next month is going to be intense.

At the moment, I am far away from the state I call “home”. I like this very much. Sure I miss my cat and my apartment, but nothing beats a random vacation for no reason at all. Oh and work… I miss work too. The night before I left, I watched a girl named “Artemis” audition at our club. She was tall, a little thicker, and was lacking any rhythm whatsoever. It was kind of hard to watch. My manager, who is supposed to give the final yay or nay, was hardly even watching her as she danced, more engrossed in the baseball game on the big screen than the half naked girl underneath the neon lights. As she maneuvered around the stage, a dancer I was sitting with, who goes by the name Gina, stated aloud what we all were thinking. That girl can not dance. Gina then began to nitpick at every little thing, like how Artemis was moving too fast or doing really odd floor work. It began to annoy me how mean she was being. The courage and confidence required to get up on that stage and put yourself out there is tremendous. How could a dancer possibly be so judgmental towards another dancer when they face the same demons? I didn’t participate in the conversation and I kept my opinion to myself. Not everyone is meant for the stage. To my surprise, Artemis returned to the floor after she audition and sat among us. Apparently her dancing was good enough. Then, one of the bouncers approached me and asked me to do something I have not done in a long time. He wanted to know if I could train her. Back in the old days when I worked in a popular clothing store, I was always the one asked to get the new people accustomed to the sales floor. I demonstrated how to up-sell. I showed them how to put outfits together. I taught them different lines to use to get people to open up credit cards. And the weird thing was, I had an absolute blast doing it. It was the most satisfying feeling to see my “students” succeed and go on to become great sales people. So you can imagine I was more than happy to sacrifice some money (there were already customers seated) and show this girl how to kick ass. We took a tour of the lap dance area, talked about different ways to get guys to buy dances, and practiced on one of the poles for a little bit. She eventually told me it was her first time in a club EVER and the information I gave her was incredibly helpful. All I could think of was that I wish I had someone to teach me when I first started out. But then again, I took to stripping the way normal people take to sports or music. I was a natural. Artemis ended up doing well that night. No VIP time but lots of dances. As for Gina, she has this move where she lays on the floor, props up her ass with her hands, and flails her legs from side to side. It looks completely ridiculous. As usual, I kept my opinion to myself but that evening, I watched a customer almost fall out of his chair laughing when she did it. Artemis had never been on a pole before. What’s your excuse, Gina?

We’ve all seen him. Dancers walk past his table. Waitresses have his drink order memorized. Normal regular customers who are in to see their favorite ladies feel like they are having a case of de ja vu every time they come in. I call him the toxic regular, the guy that is at the strip club every night, does not buy dances, and tries to be everyone’s friend. Every club I have ever worked at has had atleast one of these guys and I just want to scream in his face “GO HOME! YOU ARE A WASTE OF EVERYONE’S TIME!” That would be really mean though. But seriously, how could a person not have anything better to do seven days a week from 9:00 pm to 1:00 am? Sleeping is always nice. What about spending time with friends or creating something like a poem or a painting? I know dancers are beautiful but we must get boring after a while. Last night, I accidentally sat next to our toxic regular and he proceeded to try and get to know me. Our conversation went something like this…

TB- “Hi hun. How are you doing tonight?”
P- “Fine. You?”
TB- “Would you like a drink?”
(He is offering me whiskey on the rocks. Not exactly a girl drink)
P- “No thanks.”
TB- “Are you sure?”
P- “Yes”.
TB- “How about a drink to loosen you up before you go talk to those guys?”
P- “I don’t need a drink to talk to those guys”
(Beautiful dancer starts stage show)
TB- “You know, that girl is really beautiful. She could run this entire crowd.”
P- “OK… what’s your point?”
TB- “You better get out there and start trying to get dances before she gets off stage.”
P- “I have done dances with almost everyone here.”
TB- “I’m just saying. She’s really beautiful.”

At this point, I wondered why the hell I sat with the toxic bachelor for as long as I did. The point of his existence is non-existent. Everything that comes out of his mouth is pointless. He sucks at life. If you or someone you know has become a full blown TB, stop what you are doing and just go home. It’s better that way.

Chances are, when you go to the strip club, you will see a dancer that has had one two many drinks. She may be overly friendly. She may bitch you out. There is also the possibility of her knocking you over with beer breath when she lets out the inevitable “Hi… what’s your name?”. This dancer will NEVER be me. Not because I think it is unprofessional, unsexy, and completely obnoxious (I 100% do), but because I have no idea how alcohol will affect me in the strip club setting. Will I be the girl smiling too much? Will I be pinching customer’s nipples and laughing uncontrollably at really bad jokes? How about a nice face plant on stage… I wouldn’t put that one past me. And then, there is the possibility of me actually killing someone. Once in a great while, a customer gets me so angry that it takes every ounce of my sober energy not to wrap my fingers around his neck and make him see God. Of course this is just a sick little fantasy. I am only a man-hating, homicidal maniac on Tuesdays. Other days of the week, like Friday and Saturday, are times when I go out with friends and usually get a little tipsy. There is lots of laughter. Sometimes a new friend or two. Maybe a stage to dance on that doesn’t involve the removal of clothing. Just good times and good people… until you push my buttons. I may be tiny without the ability to intimidate even a lady bug but when someone says the wrong thing to me at the wrong time, I just snap. Like last night for example…

Jealousy can make people truly evil. I write about the insane antics of jealous dancers all the time and it only makes them look weak in the end. I have no sympathy for such a tragic character flaw. I do have sympathy, however, for my friend that is visiting me from out of town. Let’s call her Erica. Erica and I met in college and I was immediately drawn to her outgoing, fun personality. We made our otherwise boring classes go by fast with lots of inside jokes and funny stories. I truly fell in love with everything about her. One thing that was apparent from the very beginning was that Erica was extremely self conscious about her weight. She always made awkward comments about how fat she was and that no man would ever love her. Of course I disagreed and honestly meant it, but no person could ever convince her that she was beautiful. I tried and I tried but I always ended up failing. Last night, we got dressed up in really hot outfits and headed to the neighborhood club for a little night out on the town. After a couple of strong mixed drinks, the room began to spin and there was nothing the two of us didn’t find hilarious. We danced and we sang and we even found a stage to dance on all in a matter of 45 minutes. It was shaping up to be a perfect night out with a good friend… until a really hot guy hit on me. We were taking a breather from all the fun when he approached me from out of no where and began talking to me. There was an instant connection and no sooner than I could blink, he pulled me out on the dance floor and the two of us began breaking it down Dirty Dancing style. I was in absolute heaven. He smelled good, he was in great physical shape, and he knew how to move… a deadly combination if you are looking to get my attention. I only stayed with him for a minute or so because I didn’t want to leave Erica by herself and when I returned to the table, I was dying to know if she caught a glimpse of he and I grinding with each other. After being given what was quite possibly the dirtiest look on earth, she turned her head away from me and continued watching the dance floor. OK then. A few minutes later, the hot guy returned and after acknowledging me with a hug, he introduced himself to her and the two of them began chatting. He left again and she told me that she told him she would leave the two of us alone so we could go have sex somewhere. WHAT! Flashback time. Crazy bitch Susan and her delusional idea of me fucking her boyfriend. Crazy bitch Riley and the threats she posted on my locker. Crazy bitch Nina (PERIOD) My sweet friend Erica had fallen into the crazy bitch category and I completely and totally lost it. I stormed out of the bar and when she followed me, I turned around and I let her have it. Yes people, I was the girl screaming at another girl outside of a bar. Real typical. Basically if the situation was different and the guy hit on her, I would be expected to take pictures of them dancing, ask every detail about him, and sit around while they made out for an hour. When the guy talks to me, I get nothing but dirty looks and snide comments. I said all of this but made it as mean as possible, making sure to throw in some “how dare you’s” and some “I can’t believe you’s”. My angry, drunk ass then stormed down the street, tripping over side walk cracks, swinging my purse dramatically, trying to answer a text. I was a fucking hurricane. Erica lingered behind and when I got to my apartment complex, I held the door for her but continued my walk of rage all the way to the 6th floor. It was here where the storms calmed and I passed out in exactly what I was wearing in a position that suggested I actually did screw the hot guy. The next morning was awkward and all that was mentioned about the previous night was an “I’m sorry” from her. I never accepted it but I didn’t act pissy the entire next day either. There was really no point.

So here I sit, writing this absurdly long blog post about a rather absurd evening, and all I can hear is the soft breathing of my friend. Erica. She is sleeping on my bed and every time some idiot blasts his horn or slams on his brakes, she awakens with the intensity of an on-call firefighter. Country girls… ha! I glance over every time she shuffles and I can’t help but feel overwhelming guilt for the reaction I had last night. She didn’t deserve that rage. Susan did. So did Riley and Nina. But I held it all in and took it out on a loved one who unintentionally tapped into her own inner demons at the very same time I did. God damn booze. But if we weren’t drunk, would we have just fantasized about strangling each other? Was it even necessary to show our true emotions? Or is this… how crazy bitches are born?

1) I was going up the stairs to the dressing room when a girl I have worked with atleast 50 times introduced herself to me and asked my name. Lesson learned: If a dancer has no clue who you are even after you have talked to her a dozen times, don’t take it personal.

2) It was early on a Monday night and three customers were comfortably seated near the stage. A single man and a couple. Most dancers would assess this situation and go sit with the single man because essentially there is a better chance of getting money out of him. This is exactly what Mona, one of the club’s top hustlers, did. The club’s other top hustler (me), arrived late to the situation because I was screwing around with my iphone in the locker room. I felt stupid for not being on the floor when he came in but I soon got called to stage so I just went ahead and did my thing. As I danced, I noticed the couple was watching me very intently and by the time my second song was over, they had covered me in one dollar bills. I bet I could get a dance out of them, I thought. When I approached their table they told me over and over again how much they loved my show and they were really interesting in getting some private time with me. Low and behold, the three of us ended up in the VIP room doing a very steamy half hour dance. Mona sat with the single guy for hours and ended up getting NOTHING out of him. Lesson learned: Do not underestimate how horny couples can be.

3) A normal Tuesday night. I was relaxing along the back bar when two well dressed men came into the club and took a seat in the far right corner. I approached one of them and we started talking about the normal bullshit. Where are you from? What do you do? Blah blah blah. Come to find out, I was sitting with a very wealthy lawyer who happened to be happily engaged and not a big fan of strip clubs. Apparently his friend dragged him there. I was about to head elsewhere when he told me to stay with him and just drink a glass of wine. He then added that he understands how dancers work and that he would pay me for my time. A half hour later, I had an extra $300 in my garter. Lesson learned: Some men actually do get it.

4) So I am trying to get a new apartment and I am not sure if I got the job I interviewed for. Actually, it’s more like I’m not sure if I even want the job I interviewed for but I tried to get it anyways because I felt I had to. The lady who showed me this apartment has been e-mailing me and asking me if I heard anything. I guess that in order to sign the lease, I need to have a letter from an employer saying I am actually employed. I told her I had heard nothing. I then decided to be honest and tell her that if I didn’t get this particular job, I wouldn’t be out of luck because I have experience with dancing and I would probably do that until I got a “real job”. No response… going on about two days now. Lesson learned: Until you prove otherwise, you are a judgmental asshole.

Just recently, I watched a movie that completely blew me away. I was intrigued by the four stars it received on Netflix and I am a big Brittany Murphy fan (RIP), so I decided to give it a try. It is entitled “Spun” and here is the synopsis.

Spun’s unique glimpse into the world of methamphetamines has wowed audiences since its debut at the 2002 Toronto International Film Festival, with outstanding performances from Jason Schwartzman, Mena Suvari, John Leguizamo, Brittany Murphy and more. The fast-paced, hard-hitting drama expertly combines the gritty reality of drug addiction with occasional biting humor for an unforgettable look at frantic lives spinning out of control.

The film is a very interesting, unique look into the lives of drug addicts and I honestly loved every second of it. Most of the scenes were very choppy and fast paced and there was also some random images thrown in here and there that made you feel like you were tweeking right along with the characters. Very well done. So how does this movie fit in with RFG? Well you can’t have a movie about drugs without some hardcore strip club scenes. Despite my intense love for the style of this film, I felt it played on stereotypes that I have tried desperately to debunk. For example, in the first club scene, the dancers are walking around with exposed breasts. Although this isn’t a huge deal, it’s not very realistic. In most clubs (atleast the ones I have worked in), you must be completely covered by an outfit while hanging out with customers on the floor. I think this makes sense because why would you show the goods for free? Second of all, the main character goes home with a really beautiful stripper and ends up having wild sex with her. He then keeps her hand cuffed to the bed for three days while he does work for the drug dealer. They don’t really go into detail as to how he knew the dancer prior to this fuck session, but this does not happen. Yes some dancers sleep with customers for a fix or a quick buck, but there was no exchange of any of this (maybe a little drug use). Also, is she really that big of a loser that no one would realize she was missing for three days? And lastly, Nikki, the character played by Brittany Murphy, was dating the drug dealer and seemed more strung out than any of them. Surprise surprise she was also a dancer. I understand that it is only a movie and alot of things are exaggerated for a dramatic effect. But I feel that every movie that has a club scene features a stripper or group of strippers that are completely fucked up to the point where people feel confident saying all dancers suck at life. Some of them definitely do, don’t get me wrong. But when some retard asks me to go home with him or tries to sell me drugs, I can’t help but take the stereotypes personal. What you see in the movies is not always what happens in real life, dude. If that were the case, music would start magically playing through imaginary speakers when we kissed our significant other for the first time. Us ladies would wake up with make up on and you men would always have the perfect pick-up line. And most importantly, everyone would have a happy ending. That, in my opinion, is the biggest joke of all.

At the moment, life is very good. I just got back from a mini-vacation I took all by myself and I have to say I am feeling pretty relaxed. I flew to a state very far away, spent time on the beach, did some sight-seeing, and shopped my hot little ass off. Now that is what I call a good time. In amongst all the fun, the real reason for me going there was because I had a job interview. Often times, I get in these moods when I am done with the strip club world and I just want to have a normal life. I would love to tell someone about my work day or vent about an idiot co-worker. Instead, I have to keep secrets and lie to people I care about. This has become incredibly exhausting and depressing over the years. Maybe if I didn’t distance myself from all my friends, I wouldn’t be going on vacation alone. In all actuality, it was the best few days I have had in a while. I love not talking to anyone. I love doing what I want when I want to do it. I love people watching. I am pretty sure one can not understand this unless they have worked in a strip club and they say the same thing over and over again night in and night out. What’s your name? What do you do? Where are you from? Silence is golden. And quite frankly, I do not give a shit what you do or where your from. Let’s go do a dance instead.

The job interview went well. For some reason, I have always been good at making stuff up off the top of my head. Stuff that makes me look good, atleast. Come to think of it, I have always gotten every job I have interviewed for so I am pretty confident in my skills. One thing that was totally weird was to see myself in real work clothes again. Black slacks. Button up blouse. Sweater. I hardly recognized the girl in the mirror. In order to counteract this feeling of alienation with my own body, I went to a dancer clothing store I passed on the way to the interview site and I tried on some clothing I did feel comfortable in. See below.

Asymmentrical Plunge Gown by Body Zone $44.99

At my club, while you are walking around, your ass has to be covered at all times. I tried this one on in black and absolutely loved the fit and the style. Body Zone really does make the best dancer clothing. I also bought a purple garter so I wouldn’t look like a vampire on stage (black hair, black dress, black shoes, black soul…). After this fun little shopping trip, I then went wild with my GPS and started finding clubs in the area. I had no intention of doing this while I was there, but I found myself punching in the addresses anyways and what I found was a total gold mine. The club I work at now is absolutely beautiful but it doesn’t compare to the ones in this area. Slowly and steadily, the thought of my awesome interview faded from memory and was taken over by the reality of how much money I could make dancing here. I completely blame the Body Zone dress for this relapse. I JUST HAD to look awesome in it.

In all actuality, I have no idea what life is going to throw my way. I’ve had my hurdles and my brick walls, but I have also had many doors of opportunity open right when I need them. I am so thankful I have a degree to fall back on as well as  the body and the mind to be successful in the strip club world. It’s kind of rare, really. I don’t have to worry about a child or a controlling boyfriend. I don’t have to wake up early, sit through boring meetings, or waste away at a desk all day. I am truly free and it feels amazing.