You've got to be...

You gotta be
You gotta be bad, you gotta be bold, you gotta be wiser
You gotta be hard, you gotta be tough, you gotta be stronger
You gotta be cool, you gotta be calm, you gotta stay together

 Des'ree You Gotta Be

Sometimes songs still have application, especially when you do this job, and you've got to have a sense of humor about everything. 

Tonight was one of those nights where it felt like many nights happened in the course of an evening. So there were a bunch of funny things that happened, a bunch of me avoiding the negativity of the evening. (I swear I could write endlessly about the different pieces in a night, the locker room, individual girls, my emotional connection to the evening, the management, conversations, customers, outside influences that affect my work mode...I should really write more...Back to the real writing here.) I get to get up early and bust out a day shift and make a costume tomorrow as well. Part of me really wants to turn off my phone as well since I know I'm going to upset people. But you have to put on your own mask before you can put on others.

 

Lately all of us are really going though it, our club is slowly fading...I'll be surprised if we survive the winter...thank you large corporation for again fucking with my life...One of the girls for sure I've seen her crying in the back lately and it's hard, you have to remember that although you're there and you're friends are there and we support each other we don't pay each others bills...same with people in our personal lives that although our job may seem easy it's not and that they need to respect the fact we are working, which is hard for a lot of people. (I'm trying so hard to smash this post out in 10 minutes)

Tonight this guy came in and sometimes you guys say the dumbest funniest things...like don't every cheat on your spouse because you literally just admitted everything you were trying to lie about to me within 10 seconds.

So this kid comes in...he tells me he doesn't come to places like this, he's here for his friends, which admittedly he does have friends with him...he also had the advantage of being foreign so his story was a little easier to believe. Anyway he says then, that he's only been in a couple times. We chat for a little bit longer, then he says you know the dozen(ish) times he has been in, he usually just comes in and gets dances and leaves...perfect so why are you wasting my time right now. He obviously doesn't think that anyone with half a brain is going to sit down and talk to him, since he tried to dumb down his job description. GUYS HEADS UP SAYING YOU WORK IN IT MEANS NOTHING. So we continue to chat and I start talking about statistics. This kid then amazes me, he says he wasn't expecting anyone with half a brain to sit down and he has no fucking clue what the hell I'm talking about but it sounds really smart...my mind literally packed a little suitcase with old travel stickers on it, put on some galoshes, and vacated the premises...It of course couldn't get on a flight on it's own or catch a cab, so it came right back. I was trying so hard not to laugh at the fact that he went from never going to a "place like this" or going a few times, to enough times to have a routine down for while he was there, and a preference on girls. Also while we were talking, I said something about working out, and off handidly said something about needing to work out more since you can't really tell...this mother fucker said "Yeah you're right" what the fuck bro? 

 

Story two...same guy...As we were talking I asked what kind of girls he liked and he said girls that were in shape, and yes most of the girls I work with look amazing, but all of us could benefit from a little more gym time, which is what I said to him, then he looks at me and said I was wrong and that every girl seemed to be in really good shape. Again flabbergasted, I'm not in bad shape, and by comparison I'm in pretty decent shape, and this dude was just crushing my poor little ego, stomped on it. He did in the end get a dance so I guess the looking like I could work out more, and sounding like I knew something worked out for a few coins.

Girl you a bad bitch...

 So fucking act like it.

There is always tomorrow.

It only takes one.

Don't go to work mad.

You aren't here to make friends you are here to make money.

Set a goal. Everyday, every night, every week, every month, every year, have something you are working towards.

Talk to everyone.

Read...books, the news, the paper, the stranger, anything to make you more interesting.

Take care of yourself, don't eat shitty, stop fucking smoking, don't sleep all fucking day.

Market, market, market, make time for it, because no one else is going to.

Keep your space at work and at home clean you will be happier I promise.

Under promise and over deliver.

Do not lead people on. Whatever you do, in fact don't spare peoples feelings by being polite if they think it's something it's not just fucking tell them...or they will send you a bunch of emails about how they interpret your writing and what a shitty fucking person they happen to think you are.

Pretty Woman is not real...you also aren't a hooker...so maybe it is but it's not worth your sanity to try and find out.

Don't listen to the rumors.

Don't hang out in the locker room for very long, no one back there is giving you money so what the hell are you doing.

There is something interesting about every person you sit with.

If you make friends, like real, real, real, friends, do not forget about them ever, they happen to be shiny beacons in a place that feels like a sea of emotions trying to drag you down, hold on to the good that you find. Let go of the bad.

As a few tattoos say...Let it go...be bigger than the sound...you choose your life, you choose to be alone, you choose your feathers...If you do something do it like a boss.

This place might be your escape, but remember you can't hide from everything.

This place might also be your family and remember that everyone's family is dysfunctional especially this one.

Sometimes I have to remind myself what the fuck I'm doing.

Bringing back the heel clap

I literally forgot how fucking good it feels to smash those fucking pieces of plastic into the fucking stage, it's like a mini orgasm every single time.

To quote drake  "floating all through the city like I used too" Sometimes I swear rap explains everything. Its like the stars aligned and I remembered it's my birthday this weekend, and all the fucks Ive been giving for the past who knows how long, I have given up and finally, finally, finally finished all the wish washy bullshit that's been my thaaanngg lately. That shit is done. I've gone back to running my nails down peoples necks and it feels so good, I'm not sure why I stopped.

This week word got loose to me that a girl who's name is a city in France decided to have sex with her best friends boyfriend. Everyone knows how I feel about that shit I don't fucking stand for... like for fucking really... So this girl we will call her Paris I suppose walks up to me and says

Paris "Hey have you talked to so and so lately?"
R "Of course I've talked to her..."
Paris "She really seems to be going through it with her own stuff"
R "No she's not going through her own shit...the shit she's going through is because you tucked her man"
Paris "That's not how the situation went down, you don't know"
R "So how about you tell me real quick"
Paris "Stammers something inaudible"
R "You know what you are a bitch for fucking him, you claim to be her friend, but if you cared about her as much as you say, or even if he cared about her, as much as you claim to love her like family you wouldn't have fucking done it. You fucking cried about your fucking boyfriend, going out with someone without confirming that he fucked her I don't ever want to hear you cry about that again  now we can talk about this after work, I'm about to lose my god damn temper?
Paris "Yeah, yeah, okay"

Fast forward through the evening, I'm back to crushing the game.

T gets a hold of me, to find out what happened and she talked to paris as paris didn't understand why I was so upset, when tiger reminded her of everyone who's hurt me, and that 90% of them cheated on me so...of course I'm going to be upset, especially when this situation basically happened to me a year ago. So yes all my aggression I've felt about that situation was going to come out at someone who was participating in a similar situation and hurting those around me.

It's so strange to sometimes have every slight detail of who I was over a year ago back, and this year I keep saying it's going to be different, I've been all talk and no action, all peanut and no jelly. So...I'm bringing the heel clap back...and yoga...someone please pay for my yoga that would make my life great. I'm back in school with a full load. I can't hide out anymore, or hide who I am, because as everyone in my life has ever said...I'm a bad bitch, so I better start fucking acting like it.

The Truth

The truth about dancing is people come and go, people are going to leave because they feel a certain way, they want a certain thing, and they want you to provide it to them. They want you to make yourself available all the time. I have never heard from so many people so frequently how little they care about someone else. I say I have something going on "I don't care about that person"

At this point I'm looking at cost benefit analysis as are they, I can't be on time I can't make special time for them, I can't sit down to drinks, but when I should be at work, since it is my birthd month and I do want to get myself things I am apparently making people flee. Let me must enlighten all of you on what I deal with....

I'm running to get a rental car...no bra. flip flops, and that means I'm going to be 20 min late....except my custy isn't responding so I go back to packing otherwise fuck it I would have left. Mind you he blew me off a couple other times that week, so how do I know you were really even at the airport.

Tonight, I have another person, who has taken to lecturing me about my response rate and making me feel bad for not making myself free. I'm fine on money but this month I could always have more. This isn't one of those people. He's a dinner guy, a dinner and tell red how she's fucked up again guy, which irks me and makes me not want to go to dinner, because I need to be at work attempting to make money. I now it's about the money but it' not about the money.

Then there are the 4 I lost last month. I'm just crushing right now. I feel like I need to work all the time to try and make up for it and try not to fucking cry. It's not their fault I'm annoying, I mean it is, they know who the fuck I am, it shouldn't be that hard to adjust.

Then there is the guy who said I destroyed him emotionally when I spent hours each night trying to calm him down. I'm so upset right now I can't sleep.

I'm going in for day shift. I have to make up for this shit.

I mean I know it gives me the chance to cultivate new regulars and get my old persona back...again, but god fucking damnit work with a bitch a little. Don't get mad at me for going to work if I need to. Don't be all like "game over if you can't make it" okay, I won't show up because you are going to tell me I fucked up and I'm not in the mood. Do I still want to work on an diff project with you of course but I want deadlines on it I work better that way.

I'm so fucking tired of being the only one that care about people it leaves me no fucking time to care for myself, and then I get destructive to my personal relationships and October doesn't help. For those that send flowers, thank you they made my shitty day.

To top it off our numbers at work are plummeting so I need to get my marketing team together, and get a staple guy. Anyone wants to help a hot chick flyer hit me up on instagram or twitter, for real. In the mean time I'll be blogging about being grouchy.