tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38966635360612737182024-03-13T13:58:49.598-07:00The black shoe diariesThat Girl...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10857927443833185745noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3896663536061273718.post-76381860002785372462011-04-08T21:24:00.001-07:002011-04-08T21:24:31.837-07:00dreamI had a dream last night, that my soul was free and i could wander around wherever i wanted. I was spirit. After awhile, i tried to return to my body, mut my life cord was seathered. There was a beautiful angel there to confort me, and she explained that I had died by my own hand. I felt so PEACEFUL. For the 1st time in my life, i was really happy. I finally got my validation that there was more to this life than living in my own hell. I was finally free. <br/> I was so upset to wake up,to see that it was all just a figment of my imangineation...<div style='clear: both; text-align: center; font-size: xx-small;'>Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.2</div>That Girl...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10857927443833185745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3896663536061273718.post-28560621024102837222011-02-24T18:11:00.000-08:002011-02-24T18:11:27.733-08:00Weird RequestsI have heard my fair share of sick, twisted shit as a dancer, but what this one man asked me last night takes the cake. <br />
Last night was a fairly steady night, as with most Wednesdays the bar usually fills up with the weekly regulars. There was a thirty something year old man sitting at the bar, alone, and I never seen him in there before, so, being bored with the current crowd of guys I was sitting with, I went over and introduced myself. He seemed very pleasant, even offering my some homemade chili he had out in the car (um, ew?) after a few minutes, I talked him into getting a lap dance in the private dance area. All was well for about, oh, 30 seconds, when he piped up and said "Fart on me" It was like the music had stopped, I froze dead in mid dance. "excuse me?" I said, and he repeated his request. I have been asked many things, but never has someone requested that I farted on them. I continued dancing, but I was too dumbfounded to say anything. After my set, he again asked me if I could, and promised big money if I could push one out. (No fucking joke) I told him I wasn't going to fart on him, and that was that. He ended up getting 6 dances total, and tipped me an extra ten, then left before I could say thank you. No wonder why he was trying to feed me the chilli.That Girl...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10857927443833185745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3896663536061273718.post-85323298818624285372010-11-27T17:50:00.001-08:002010-11-27T17:50:50.422-08:00Unacceptable gratatuityPlease be advised that it is unacceptable to tip the dancer on stage your phone number instead of money. If you do this and her shoe just so 'happens' to fly off her foot and hit you in the gut, well, you've been warned.<div style='clear: both; text-align: center; font-size: xx-small;'>Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.2</div>That Girl...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10857927443833185745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3896663536061273718.post-24211065297094673912010-11-24T01:26:00.001-08:002010-11-24T01:26:07.069-08:00corruption and the law~ Part oneI know that I havent wrote in a while, but I have been super busy writing an essay on cops, corruption, the law, and being a stripper. In my next post I will tell you how it all fits together. Promise.<div style='clear: both; text-align: center; font-size: xx-small;'>Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.2</div>That Girl...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10857927443833185745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3896663536061273718.post-21310261051048698502010-11-11T22:26:00.001-08:002010-11-11T22:26:31.972-08:00Where is the mojo?Although tonight has been a slow night, there is still some money to be made from the few scragglers that will occasionally waltz threw the entrance, and yet I have been sitting on my flat ass all night long.<div style='clear: both; text-align: center; font-size: xx-small;'>Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.2</div>That Girl...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10857927443833185745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3896663536061273718.post-52542456850368075322010-10-28T17:33:00.001-07:002010-11-01T06:45:36.551-07:00Shoes Of Strippers Past<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_E_QGVsokxB0/TMoWXbL-hlI/AAAAAAAAACY/b72DNJtfxDQ/C360_2010-10-26%2023-10-19.jpg"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_E_QGVsokxB0/TMoWXbL-hlI/AAAAAAAAACY/b72DNJtfxDQ/s400/C360_2010-10-26%2023-10-19.jpg" /></a><br />
The tops of lockers are where old souls lay to rest.<br />
<div style="clear: both; font-size: xx-small; text-align: center;">Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.2</div>That Girl...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10857927443833185745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3896663536061273718.post-58701080998629742010-10-26T18:31:00.001-07:002010-10-28T11:56:32.975-07:00Reinventing myselfIts 9:22, and I haven't made a single dollar yet. It is also my first day at a new bar. The first day at a new club always puts my nerves on edge, and I usually sit back and try to figure out the vibe of the place. I have yet to figure out how I feel about this place. I had to change my stage name here, as it seems like the previous owner's wife's name was Harley, and the name has a bad rap attached to it. So, if I stay here, I'm guessing that this will be a new time to reinvent myself, a new image to another nameless face that walks the halls of an empty strip club... Too depressing. I need to have an 'upbeat' attitude about this~ anything less will surely bring me down and have me leaving empty handed, no money and definitely no stories to tell.<br />
We cant have that. I'll probably change my name to Zoe.<br />
<div style="clear: both; font-size: xx-small; text-align: center;">Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.2 at a lonely strip club just outside of Cleveland, Ohio</div>That Girl...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10857927443833185745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3896663536061273718.post-40277160991255903532010-10-21T01:47:00.000-07:002010-10-21T01:47:00.022-07:00The Girl That Became A FriendAs a stripper, I am forced to work with a variety of woman from all walks of life. Some of these ladies are mothers, just simply trying to make there rent. Some of the girls are addicts, hoping to god that they make enough for there next fix, so they do not get sick. Some of these woman are collage students, earning cash to get them by until there next opportunity approaches. Some are nice, some are bitches, and some just keep to themselves. <br />
I have always been a listener. I tend to try to show how much I care by saying as little as possible. It has only began lately that I am finding myself sympathizing with a certain girl that started out as just another dancer but ended up being one of my dearest friends.<br />
On the floor, she is shy and yet bewitching, seductive smile and exotic gestures set off against the essential elegance of her -- her classical face, that serious lode of smoky black hair. She seduces me again and again, like she seduces everyone.<br />
She takes there words too seriously, like they are precise and to the key, but it seems like she forgets that the men that come in are usually TOO critical, and that most 'normal' woman will never have to be subjected to the harsh torment that exotic dancers frequently have to endure.<br />
I have had enough of that look of pain in her eyes. I wish that she would see it the way that I saw it; But, unfortunately her soul seems to remain in a fragile state, and, as I try to bat off there hurtful words, and remind myself that I have already become desensitized, I realize that this current state that I am in is a curse, never to be reversed...That Girl...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10857927443833185745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3896663536061273718.post-57295325083453579172010-10-08T02:48:00.000-07:002011-02-12T01:35:14.959-08:00Judges and other pervertsWhy is it that just because I provide "Entertainment" for people, do they automatically assume that I am willing to provide them with sexual stimulation, i.e; A blow-job, hand-job, sex, or whatever else there sexually deprived hearts desire? Am I these mens girlfriend/ wife? No. Did they pick me up on the street corner of 25th and Lorain? NO. Did they find me on Craigslist or roaming the halls of a brothel? NO. THEN WHY IN THE FUCK DO THESE MEN THINK THAT I WILL GIVE THEM SEXUAL GRATIFICATION, ESPECIALLY FOR THE PRICE OF 10 BUCKS?!? (Not that I would for any other price, but that's a low- blow.) Take *Tim, for example, a Coyahouga County judge for common pleas, walks into the bar today, and before you can say "hi, there, how are you?", he has his fly unzipped and his peter was wagging in the wind like the tail of an eager dog waiting for a treat. It's people like *Tim that disgust me. You see, while I stay away from him, because I've been at the same club long enough to know what he, and others like him is all about, I will still here stories about him later that night. Sic. "OMG, that old dude up there in the gray suit just offered me $40 to have a 'drink with him~ he put my hand on his wanker!!' or, 'OMG, that man in the suit just told me $50 and he would put a condom on!! What The Fuck?!?'' Its men like this that turn me off, its men like this that de~sensitizes me from the rest of the male population of this world. I know that this should not matter to me, that every individual is different, but, this job has taught me to see the downfall of the male population, and just how important the role sex plays in a males life. I cannot no longer look at my boyfriend, or any other man I have dated for that matter, threw the innocent eyes of the person I once was. I see them as a creep, as a manipulative, lying, insincere, cheating douche bag that make up 48% of the population. Correct me if I am wrong, but, if presidents, judges, doctors, FBI, lawyers, cops, and other people we are taught to trust are doing it, what makes you think the person YOU trust isn't doing the same?<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">*Note: Names have been changed to protect the ignorant</span>That Girl...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10857927443833185745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3896663536061273718.post-8259764545431484972010-09-29T15:40:00.000-07:002010-10-14T03:14:20.746-07:00A Hard Nights Pay<span style="color: #cccccc;">I am dealing with personal issues right now. A few nights ago, a good friend tried to commit suicide, and last night she finally passed. I had to work last night, and it was hell. I didn't care about my makeup, I didn't care about my mismatched outfit, and I certainly didn't care about hearing about some middle aged fat man's fantasy's. Yet, I endured 30 minutes of his good- girl- gone- dominatrix scenarios, listening how he wanted me to tie him up with cuffs and his tie, bind his manhood with a shoestring, and gag him with my panties. I have no idea what this man said after that. my mind was somewhere else. I was replaying my own scenarios in my head~ Will I ever see her again? Why did she do it? Was she in pain when it happened? Where is her spirit? But, most importantly,I was wondering if it was because of men like the one I was sitting next to, that drove her over the edge?</span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc;">I had enough of this. I collected my $50 and walked away.</span>That Girl...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10857927443833185745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3896663536061273718.post-81756518925310292732010-09-21T22:32:00.000-07:002010-09-23T14:53:35.249-07:00Who I am<span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"> I have been depressed lately... I have been trying to "find" myself, learn more of what makes me unique in this universe.<br /> I'm looking for another job. I am currently an exotic dancer for a gentleman's club. I hate it. I hate the attention. I hate the sleezy men telling me how "hot" I am, and asking how much it is to sleep with me. I don't do that. I have a boyfriend.<br /></span>That Girl...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10857927443833185745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3896663536061273718.post-17117916426827511932009-09-23T02:40:00.000-07:002010-09-23T14:55:44.378-07:00The Dressing Room<div>The dressing room smells of smoke and cheap perfume; Before I can even walk threw the door, this girl Gina rushes up to me and asks to borrow a few bucks until she makes it so she can score an O.C from some dude thats out in the lounge area. She just started yesterday, and I don't even know the chick. In fact, I'm not even sure if her name <em>is</em> Gina, it could be Jenna. Who knows, I don't pay attention to the new girls, half of them stay around long enough to make enough money to get there 'fix', and the other half quit after a few days for whatever other reason. Only a few stick around. </div><br /><div>"You know, like, I really will pay you back the money when I make it, I mean, I only need 60 bucks and I'll split it with you if you want. And if you want, he's also got-"</div><br /><div>"No, I'm cool," i interrupt. "and I don't carry cash with me. Sorry." </div><br /><div>I push past the Gina chick and make my way to my locker. Some day shift girl at the locker next to mine is pulling $20's and $50's out of her G-string and bragging about the 'awesome' day she had, and how 'they were tipping good on the stage today'. Everybody knows she sucks dick in the private dance area; I don't know who she thinks she is fooling. </div><br /><div>I quickly changed into a blue and black corset with black thongs and fishnets. After applying my makeup, i took one final look into the mirror and asked myself the same questions I ask myself every night: 'Why do I strip? </div>That Girl...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10857927443833185745noreply@blogger.com0