Sunday, December 12, 2010

You've gota earn that smell...

Bears Vs Patriots
Kip Vs Nikki
Eagles Vs Cowboys

Conflicts, will call it the three games of the day, and what a day it was.

I wake, from what was minimal sleep, had to close the DUBS down the night before, and finally passed out round 4 or so. Then wake, rise, shine, bagel, and some raisin bran helps me feel fine. I shower, ask my pop's for a ride into work, since will be watching the Bears game after my shift and heading to the same place (it's a blustery day outside, Florida winds are serious(not Chicago serious but I do ride a girls bike)). He obliges after some minimal him hawing but ya know all in good fun to let his son know that a car should be purchased sooner rather then later.

I get into work and instantly begin going through the motions. Before I know it I'm getting off and getting ready for kickoff. I've been amped for this game all week and even started feeling the jitters sometime around Friday. We have a gang of regulars that come into buffalo wild wings to watch the Bears and we all take our seats. White collar, from all around the U.S. and sharing a common love for the greatest football team in the NFL. Orange n Blue sucking down over processed chicken, beer, and whatever else our servers have to offer. The first two drives are something to give the heart race but after two botched third n longs by the Bears defense...well...lets say, they look like the weather, and inside I feel like the turf. My father checks out at the half and I'm there with my uncle and two other loyal fans. It's rare you see me walk away from a game (That Seattle game I left @ the 2min many red zone interception...HE JUST DOESN'T LEARN!!!).

Part way through 1/2 time one of the loyal fans says he's a Bachelor for a few more days and will be going to some Tampa strip clubs after the game.
"I'm going to win whether they do or not."
I'm feeling a lot of things inside, past conversations with you know who are still lingering, cabin fever is awaiting me if my uncle drops me off, and I'm thinking....
and Boobies HEAL ALL!!!
So I ask if he needs a wingman and that goes with out saying, but I'm saying, so it's agreed. We watch the rest of what is one of the more piss poor performances by the Monsters of the Midway, pay our tabs and head to 2001 Odyssey in Tampa, but first...More boooze! or uhhh sorry liquid courage or as I like to think of it...finger Meth. I can write but man, it kicks into ridiculous gears once I take a few swigs.

My stripper coach, looks like a good friend of mine, Eddy (cymatics), except if Eddy gave up on his current path and went a more traditional route. He's proper, navigates the car efficiently and openly shares his life with me. I like this guy, a mad character, and spews stories about the Chicago rave scene from the mid 90's. He has the same analogies as TMY about fungi and he grew up in Hammond, so I'm thinking it's a Hammond thing. I swim around through the back in the days, share some of my own stories, and we sit parked outside the joint drinking our beers.

We walk into the place, pay the cover charge, the women at the cash register says...
"Don't forget about me" and points towards a tip jar and I say.
"How could I ever forget about you, that's just silly..."
And proceed into the money hole that is a strip club. Ladies n gentlefolks this is where dreams come to die and erections are born again. I wouldn't call myself a strip club goer, I can recall all the times I've been to strip clubs, but never before have I been this prepared. The moments leading up to me making this decision to come out, lick face with the night, and document it all in my black book were dull n dreary. I'm a homebody these days and ya know with good reason ;) However, I don't know if it's the alcohol, the flashing lights, the, is that lady gaga? shit! I can't tell or all the half naked women but for a quick moment I feel alive.

I break the seal and sit next to my strip club coach, he breaks it all down to me, because I clearly look like I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.

"NO!!! you never tip on the first song, don't even make eye contact, just let them come to you, and if she gives you something you give back."

This makes a lot more sense and should help me conserve what little money I've brought with me into this place. WHERE IS THIS PLACE?!?!?! (google maps knows(as well as any Tampa strip club goer). So he continues in prepping me for what will be a night of folly, friendship, and ultimately life counseling.

"There are 2 rules that you always follow when you come to a strip club. #1 you Never, ever tip on the first song, they are wearing to much clothing, and are still feeling out the patrons. #2 is that you absolutely can't save any of them."

HAhaHAHhHAH! Oh brother, you told the wrong man, the wrong thing, in the right place at just the right time.

Her dancer name is Jamie...On the side of her body etched in thick black ink it reads, "This is just dust, another piece of the story." She see's me scribbling in my black little book and asks... "whatcha doing?" I say documenting life "she laughs with the heart of a hustler, licks her lips and moves a lot closer to me. She shows me more attention then I've had recently, but I keep the rules in mind and don't tip.
"Aren't you going to tip me?"
And I respond smugly...because I know the rules....
"I'm thinking about it"
She pouts, clicks her long black heels together and scoots her delicious behind across the stage from me. I smile and feel I've secured a will be proud.
"What the fuck was that?"
"Oh man! I'm surprised they haven't come over here and thrown you out? If a girl comes over and pays that much attention to you...pssh you have to tip, I mean she has on a lot of clothes so only a dollar but you gotta."

The strip club is a much more ethical place then I could have ever imagined but dammit I came to learn. I'm here with a veteran, out of retirement, to pass on some great stories from memories not to long ago, and a few clutch secrets that can help me make my money walk. Confused, a little discouraged, I build Jamie a money building on the stage, and she come back over in the middle of the 2nd song to collect. For those of you not in the know...the 2nd song is where all that remains are some leggings (somtimes) and a thong. There are a trail of generic stars inked into her body to go along with her wise stripper proverb and I'm wondering if this is the "C" squad...we are early. As she scoops up my little money building, I go for broke, lean in and say...
"Hey! uhhh, Hi!....My friend here has hipped me to the rules of this establishment and I just want you to know...I'm here to save you and everything is going to be alright."
A light laugh tumbles out her mouth, rolls of her nipples, and fills the club with a splash of sincerity. I get a wink, my building disappears and the next vixen takes the stage in a quick mess.

There is this crazy ritual that takes place, where the girl who leave scoops up all her dollars, and the girl coming on steps around her and cleans the two poles. A weird, near lesbian dance, that raises no pulses, but shows that there is order in this unholy tacky tourist trap.

Her name is Carela...I think that's how it's spelled, I think she is spun out on something but really i can't be to sure. I'm not about to ask but by the 3rd song I notice she only has 7 dollars out on the floor. I'm a bleeding heart, ask about me, I'm a sympathetic guy, and strippers are no different then anyone else...well...hmm...maybe a little but the buzz is right and I'm sitting on a lot of singles. So I shove one dollar in her red stockings and realize that for a stripper rejection comes in the form of 8 dollars after 3 full songs and being fully nude in a room full of strangers.

The next one struts out wearing a lot of baby blue lace, my coach is excited for this one, I have to admit she's high quality from what we've been seeing and I shuffle about some bills. I'm noticing some stripper tactics...
They like to take your hat (if your wearing one) shift it back and rub your face into those beautiful hill tops of flesh. So I fold up an up n coming tip, tuff that bitch in my kanglo n glow...i'm I write this, trying to maintain my litness but let's be honest...not nearly as I was when I was, the rush of the real thing intensifies the entire spectacle and it's why we do the things we do...tangent sorry...So she comes in, removes her top, a petite girl, now with her breast exposed, fake breast, and way out of proportion...not digging it, starting looking past her, the cowboys have just tied the eagles and we've got a real nice Sunday night game on our hands...
(i just realized as I've been typing for a little over n hour that my track selection has been all wrong. I've been jamming to some new chunes I just snagged, some Nero, Danny Byrd, old Glitch Mob...etc. After a swig of vodka I'm struck by lighting and swtich to a Youtube playlist of AC/DC.....The story shall write its self from here on out...(no strippers danced to AC/DC during the evenings adventures :( Wtf! still though....)
...So yeah, ya know how you when you don't pay attention to something in life it ends up showing up on your doorstep. Welp, umm, that goes doubley truthful for strippers! I'm not paying her any mind and she comes a crawling across the bar top with only me in mind. Maybe it's the moleskin, or possibly these beautiful eyes my parents blessed me with, or just maybe the fact that I CAN'T care less about this act. In fact I'm wondering if I give her a 5 (haven't seen one come out at all so far(this leads me to believe they are a hot item)) if she'll but those disproportionate globes back under the lovely lace and do the last song like that...instead the strippers keen senses peak and she slithers over with a...
"whatcha writing?"
With a smile, a pause of the pen, and a close of the book I spit about...
She says something like "neat" or "great" or some other stripper slang that I'm unable to decode and spread eagles blocking my view of the eagles. She pulls my head in to give me the trade mark titty hug, pulls my hat back, finds, the surprise I didn't mean for her, and goes...
"Oh for me..."
Were both a little more then surprised but my reflexes are just a hair bit faster then hers...
"I tell you what, I want to give this to my friend over here, he just adores you, and can't wait to meet you."
I pass the buck, feeling like Steve Nash, strip club assists who would of thunk. I mean I know I'm a rookie but I consider myself a go getter, a mover, a shaker if you will, and hell I might as well write a few plays of my own...see if coach approves. I go back to scribbling in my book, notes, that I'm now having to weed through, and the last bit of Bella's 3rd song is spent with my fantastic coach. He gives her my dollar and then a portion of his 4 american dollars and we both laugh a bit as she vanishes off the stage and behind that velvet curtain.
"So what did you think of my pass?"
"Well, good idea, heads up, but ya know she doesn't wanna double dip...She already did some work for you, and then your just passing the buck. So she's chasing that dollar and having to do more...I gave her a little more."
"I felt like Steve Nash..."
There is a look on his face, like, man, this guy is definitely getting ahead of himself...
I must say, as I watch my coach use his stack of singles, I come to realize, he really gets his monies worth. He gets way more then me and truly is a master of his craft. I take notes out the corner of my eye sockets because I don't think staring is only excites them more!
A few more dancers come out, I'm reading latin off one girls back, choking on some nickleback over the speakers, laughing at this 50 something in pastel flannel (oh yeah it exists) pissing away his pension on women who could care less, and coming to grips with every tip I give I'm taking baby steps away from the man I hope to be come October...
1/2 Time...
As we go to leave, I believe some of the "A" list is arriving and I walk right into one of them. Her name is Kip and i can already feel my money wanting to migrate into her bank account. What the fuck is that? Stripper money magnet? We swap a smile and as I step out the door I tell her...
"I'll be back and I hope I can give you all my money..." That sort of honesty drives them wild...I think.
Coach n I head down the street, I grab a small thing of Jameson, and a budlight for my friend. Stripclubs in Tampa are magical...fully nude, I'm told you can get anything you want in the VIP lounge, if your pockets are deep enough, but you can't drink in the club. Well you can drink, a 6 dollar can of coke or maybe an 8 dollar can of redbull (at least a one drink minimum(15 turns into at least 21...)) So we fuck the system, swap more stories, and sip the suds of our choosing in the comfy confines of his car. Keep in mind, up until this night, I've never really known anything about my coach, other than, he loves the bears, and always seems like a friendly guy on those sundays.
We share so much in common, if only from our pasts, my present, well past, but ya know present. I share some of the new sounds of the underground and he gives me some great ideas on tunes to possibly give on a later date. Then he plays some G-love and we swap shots from my bottle of Jamie... we re group... and head back into the club...
The carpet, is a hot swirling mess, of grey, black, and silver...there is no real pattern and I think at some point the patrons were allowed to smoke in there. The ceilings are low and where we once sat is open n then some. We get a better view and I dig the whole scene once again...
There are a group of "bros" sitting across from me ove yonder the stage. All von dutched out and one of them is wearing a buffalo, "wing" crown, and I chuckle...full circle, if only for a moment.
Kip and I lock eyes from across the various silver chairs, bar tables, and strobing halogens. I mouth out "Olive juice" she mininterprets and signals for me to come over. I sit down next to her and waste no time, I mean why would I, GORGEOUS, and ya know all the tangiables out for auction.
"Would you like to go on a date with me?"
"I'm sorry I'm not much into exsposure."
This confuses I start telling her the rules I've learned and this immediately sends panic up her pretty posture.
"no no no, if you don't tip her the first song she won't do a good job. And you should never try to save anyone...We're all figuring it out and people need to do that on there own."
Whoa! No saving needed here and I tell her I want to see her dance before I commit to a private dance. That's me, always leaving my options open, and needing that undeniable proof. She tells me I'm going to be waiting a long while and I quickly return with a...Your definitely worth the wait. Ping pong with strippers is great especially when words are the ball.
As winter takes the stage, my coach informs me that...
"You need to wake up in the morning feeling like you did something wrong & u can write that in your pad." So I do and I take to the rules, completely ignoring the dancer...i mean stripper...for the first song, collecting some notes from our outdoor convo, and peaking at the eagles hard at work on the other side of the club. That Mr. Vick, so slippery, much like the pole, much like the singles I unfold, and the story that's being told...
I dont' recall her name, I thought I did but clearly it's a misprint, but she's beautiful. Natural, curvey, ebony, and some of the most fantastic pole skills through out the night. I'm watching, drifting off, riding a great whiskey buzz, she twirls about, upside down, right side up, and all the while G-string in's only the 2nd song. Somewhere in between the double helix heel slide, lil wayne making the shitty sound system pop, and a quick conversation with a "Roadhouse" extra I drift off into my own world. I start, Tutting (click, learn, raise the bar...I dare you) and all of a sudden the DJ starts calling me out...
"Whoa there, having a good time, what are you trying to be...some kind of mime..."
Yuck yucka yuck yuck all through out the club, I lock eyes with him and mouth....I AM A FUCKING MIME...OFF DUTY!!!
"HAhahHAHA, well then" are the last things the club here's...
I don't tip the wonderful dancer instead I march over to the booth and begin doing some investigating. His name is Chris, he's running serato, and eating a delicious Jimmy Johns sub. He asks about my story and I ask how do I get his job. He takes offence, I back track, and say...
"ya know but at another establishment?..."
"Well, do u know how to DJ?"
I slip back into a quick flash, some of my more favorite moments as a DJ, and I come back with a response...
He smiles and says..."Well that's a start." Munch munch on his turkey tom no onions (I can smell them from a mile away and his sammich is lacking them), cues the next pole pleasing piece and completely ignores all the rest of what I would have liked to say. I'm feeling extra "money" and walk my ways back to my seat. However, before leaving, I leave an entire days worth of bad eating in his area...SO MUCH ASS GAS!!!! Talking about chilli, nasty chicken, french fries, various beers, and of course my general disgust for his profession. Just floating, thick, and ready for all those within a 10ft blasting zone.
I do my pee pee dance in the mens room and take my front row seat as Nikki comes out onto the stage. HOLY HELL!!! gun tattoos along side her firm breasts, amazing behind, platinum blonde hair, and all n all looking like my X-wife if she'd a just taken that last step. My friend use to always say she was one step away from the pole but she use to always say she had to much self respect to not go that route. However not enough self respect to remain faithful to her husband, or to not spit well liquor into tourists mouths, or ya know not be a lying cunt....Whoops! I think that might be the liquour talking...sorry...i digress.
She is up there...I mean...Her n Kip are by far the best this heartbreak hoeTell has to offer. I keep the rules in mind, ignore, scribble and of course she takes the bait. Her dance, with each swing of those perfectly preportioned hips, I find myself entranced, and I'm no match.
"What are you doing?"
I close the book, smile, and say...."Writing"
"What? rhymes?"
"nopers, LIFE!"
and quickly she spins about to her pole and says.
"well you better write, fast, and quick. Because it's much to big for you to write it all"
She slides up and down that pole and for the first time in the night I'm really feeling it...I really!!!
I WANT TO SAVE THEM ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Actually a long standing plan of mine has been to create a loyal army of strippers. How I always picture it going down is as followed...
I strike it big, either ya know with my sweet sweet dance moves, hit them powerball numbers, cook up the best meth the world has ever had, or just find that random billion dollar brief case. From there, I head to every major city in America (possibly other countries too but ya know me I'm a patriot) go to the best strip club that city has to offer and find there money maker. The girl who just brings em in, turns em out, and banks. Ask her..."What do you want to do more then anything on this earth?" And then provide her with the means to do so...
Ne time I ever set foot in that city, BAM! awesome date night...yes yes...I'm aware I'm delusional but please just let me dream.
She takes a few of my dollars, more so then any other previous, even taps my under the hat stash, wich you guessed it means my nose goes for an amazing back and forth ride...I snarl, she giggles, and I go back to the scribbles. She looks down at me and smiles...I ask...
"have you ever seen someone do this?"
and the most sincere smile a stripper can sustain slips out...honesty...validation...and it only cost me like 5 bucks. Her songs finish and I watch her walk about scooping up her dollars, she keeps a close eye on me, and I think I might just have to get a private dance.
My coach leans in...
"Man, that book of yours is amazing!!!! They all are interested and wanting to know."
And i respond with a few variations of "i know right's"
However only moments after that, some midget stripper, well like 5'2 (in heels dude(dudette?)) comes up to my coach and tells him the book is creeping all the girls out. So he leans in and tells me to stop...I decide I have enough notes to pretty much rant my way into sunrise and tuck her away. Plus at this point my head is spinning...
GodSmack is blaring and out loud I say..."Man, it would be great to see all this movement to at least some shitty hip hop" and the next song starts a playlist of chunes I can at least describe as semi-bareable...I mean...given the location. So, my fingers get to moving, at first below the bar, but then I'm like fuck it, in rome, wearing a plaid kilt, might as well show em whats underneath.
Oh man!!! the looks are priceless, this coming from a guy who normally kicks it on street corners leaving them slack jawed. I get a few "Should we tip him's?" but the best is the bartender (red bull opener/pop can bringer)...
"What are you doing there?"
"It's called "Digits" and it's a dance"
"Oh, well, you should get a fushigee (i don't care to know how to spell that(or a lot of other words(sorry izzy)))."
Her n I go back n forth about how I won't be buying one of those. She smiles and goes back to stabbing peoples eyes out with 6 dollar cans of coke but I know what I must do before I leave.
The coach is looking a bit anxious, he wants to know if I'm ready to bounce, and I'm still waiting for Kip to come on stage n do her thing. I want to stack her against the competition and then get a lap dance from the winner. SOMEWHERE TODAY THERE HAS TO BE WINNER and dammit it might as well be my black slacks. That's when i see KIP cheating on me for the fifth time, leading some 40 something back into the VIP area, and I'm is an oppurtunity to save 25bucks. My coach n I gather our effects and head towards the exit. I have two dollars stashed, one behind my ear (rolled up like a cig), and the other in my new favorite place to hide dollars. I stumble up to the blonde bombshell that is Nikki and say...
"these were for you, I think, but ya know when the music was just right. However, my ride is leaving and there is just something about you that makes me want to give these dollars to their rightful owner. She smiles, I get a HUG, I think, can I save her?, and just settle with that strip club scent she rubs into my clothing. As I exit I remember to give the bartender the website to a highly motivated, involved, diverse, and ever growing online community of finger dancers :P I think she just might check it out...who knows...I told her if she does i'll buy one of those stupid infomercial balls.
The two, my coach n I, stroll out into the florida night, and I have a hard time understanding it's the middle of December. I brag about the smell...That smell...Of baby powder, broken promises, credit card over drafts, fathers that should have just taken the time, and what the hell ever they spray on them poles. He says...
"You gota earn that smell!"
and I laugh so loud that I feel a bit light headed. We hop in the whip and cruise back towards my new residence. I'm told of a great time he once had...Soldier Field, The rolling stones, smoking weed with his father, and learing that some people love to share. I'm glad I took a chance and I'm extremely glad I ended up being a good wingman. Seems like we achieved just the right amount of fun and actually spent way less then anticipated.
On the way back, I share a bit more about my life, and where I hope to see it go. He holds back but honesty eventually dumps out past his lips. Caution comes crashing into our free fall of an evening and all with a variety of apologies. I tell him not to worry and actually I thank him for his concern. He's right you know...
...These days, the days I trail blaze with eyes on a prize only I seem to understand, aren't for the faint hearted. I don't expect many to understand and I hope if I come up short the "I told you so's" will be short n sweet. What you are witnessing is a phoenix, becoming self aware and doing all it can before that majestic moment befalls him. The eagles ended up squeeking it out by three, Nikki beat Kip out by two, and well the Bears they will always be number one. It's four in the morning, my liquor is all gone, but I'm still having fun!!!
....wonder how I'll feel in the morning?
Thanks for reading, hope you took some breaks, most importantly hope you took some breaks, and mostly importantly....RESPECT THE RULES!!! you'll get your dollars worth and come to understand the delicate balance that is a stripclub.


  1. it's 3:30am. i took 0 breaks. you need to write more in here :-D

  2. building my United States Stripper army, starting in Tampa!