The Acropolis, Portland OR - Stripclub of Evil
OK, I get it. Don't sit on the stage unless you're willing to tip. It used to piss me off too. But there were no other seats, apart from next to the drooling man wearing a raccoon hat and lumberjack shirt dribbling over a raw hunk of beef. So we sat. She was ugly, the girl onstage. We thought four dollars would be enough to appease her. It was the Pacific Northwest after all. We were giving them a free show, two English twins and a pleasant tattooed companion. They were probably all related anyway, it must be nice for them to see strangers from outa town.
How wrong we were.
She sauntered over and generously poked her sagging bottom in my face before playfully licking her nipples. Always a move guaranteed to generate my antipathy. (Mine won't reach, even though I've tried to stretch them)
"You wanna give me some money?" She sighed breathily, sticking her finger in the region of her anus. I do hope she washes her hand before reaching for the peanuts.
My sister, B and I looked at each other, communicating telepathically that we really didn't want to give this irritating girl with little to offer besides the marvels of 1980's silicone breast technology, any money. So I slipped her a quarter, and my sister screwed up her nose and said -
"We're waiting to get change."
I disappeared to get in the beers ($4! The wonders of Oregon!) and returned to find my sister and B sniffing disgustedly.
"We gave the stupid girl four dollars and she told us it was her dream to work in Scores. So I told her you used to work there and she got really excited, then asked us for more money, and got kind of angry. So I told her to piss off. I think we should move."
The girl writhed unexcitedly next to an ageing, decrepit, toothless man in a lumberjack shirt, and then rippled over to us.
"It's not a free show! Is four dollars all you're gonna give?"
We shrugged.
I hate to say it girl, but if you're ugly, annoying, drunk and not even dancing, don't expect any fucking sympathy or more than four dollars from me during your little five minute naked window. If I'm staring at your ass it's certainly not a free show, and feel free to hassle me. But if I'm drinking a goddammned four dollar beer, talking about green card marriages and trying not to look at your disgusting vag as it gets pushed in my face, I'd shut the fuck up if I were you, and try and figure out why the hell you're working at The Acropolis on a Sunday night and not Scores on a Saturday.
God help us if she ever ends up in NY. There's already an over-abundance of sagging breasts and Xanaxed-up bitches slithering around our pole-less Manhattan stages desperate to meet Howard Stern (Yeah, nice party for Ronnie that night big guy). One more small-town girl worth less than four dollars, and the stripclub economy of New York may just collapse.
I'm just bitter because I haven't danced for six weeks and I miss the Xanax.
That was sarcasm.
Welcome back to New York Mimi. Rent due in two weeks, unemployed and about to embark upon - yoga school! What other career options are left for size 4, Cambridge- educated, poverty-stricken ex-stripper freelance writers working on their first novel? Do tell. Playboy spread? Anyone?
How wrong we were.
She sauntered over and generously poked her sagging bottom in my face before playfully licking her nipples. Always a move guaranteed to generate my antipathy. (Mine won't reach, even though I've tried to stretch them)
"You wanna give me some money?" She sighed breathily, sticking her finger in the region of her anus. I do hope she washes her hand before reaching for the peanuts.
My sister, B and I looked at each other, communicating telepathically that we really didn't want to give this irritating girl with little to offer besides the marvels of 1980's silicone breast technology, any money. So I slipped her a quarter, and my sister screwed up her nose and said -
"We're waiting to get change."
I disappeared to get in the beers ($4! The wonders of Oregon!) and returned to find my sister and B sniffing disgustedly.
"We gave the stupid girl four dollars and she told us it was her dream to work in Scores. So I told her you used to work there and she got really excited, then asked us for more money, and got kind of angry. So I told her to piss off. I think we should move."
The girl writhed unexcitedly next to an ageing, decrepit, toothless man in a lumberjack shirt, and then rippled over to us.
"It's not a free show! Is four dollars all you're gonna give?"
We shrugged.
I hate to say it girl, but if you're ugly, annoying, drunk and not even dancing, don't expect any fucking sympathy or more than four dollars from me during your little five minute naked window. If I'm staring at your ass it's certainly not a free show, and feel free to hassle me. But if I'm drinking a goddammned four dollar beer, talking about green card marriages and trying not to look at your disgusting vag as it gets pushed in my face, I'd shut the fuck up if I were you, and try and figure out why the hell you're working at The Acropolis on a Sunday night and not Scores on a Saturday.
God help us if she ever ends up in NY. There's already an over-abundance of sagging breasts and Xanaxed-up bitches slithering around our pole-less Manhattan stages desperate to meet Howard Stern (Yeah, nice party for Ronnie that night big guy). One more small-town girl worth less than four dollars, and the stripclub economy of New York may just collapse.
I'm just bitter because I haven't danced for six weeks and I miss the Xanax.
That was sarcasm.
Welcome back to New York Mimi. Rent due in two weeks, unemployed and about to embark upon - yoga school! What other career options are left for size 4, Cambridge- educated, poverty-stricken ex-stripper freelance writers working on their first novel? Do tell. Playboy spread? Anyone?
MIMI IN NY | 1:42 AM |
