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Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Don't Bring Your Hooker To My Titty Bar

I'll never understand why men bring their hookers (ahem, escorts if you're p.c., and women who will have sex with you if you're honest) to a strip club. To me it rather defeats the purpose. A strip club, despite all it's drama and subsequent interference, serves as a safe-house where men can come alone or in groups, and engage in titillating conversation *pun intented* with attractive women. Paying is an option (albeit a strongly preferred option).

That said, I don't understand why some men bring their hookers to a strip club. It would seem a rather distracting and financially draining expense; especially if she is charging for the hour. I can sympathize to a degree with men who choose to get a hooker after leaving the strip club- unrequited sexual interaction and proverbial blue-balls have been known to cause a few rash decisions. And engaging with a hooker or two has been known to cause a few rashes. (Bad-um chaa)

I suppose the rather ideal situation in this case would be to meet a hooker at the strip club.

Why would that be ideal, you ask?

Because it segways into my next topic: the hooker who once danced for us before we knew she was a hooker.

About a year ago we had a dancer who came to us from another bar, and her name was Monarch. She was a very tall, boisterous black woman; and boy could she drink. This girl would down seven or eight LIT's (Long Island Iced Tea's) during the evening. She was loud, strong, crass, and a hooker. At least, we found out she was a hooker later.

We had an idea she was prostituting herself a few weeks after she started. She was a really good tipper. Really good. Not to say that all hookers are good tippers- this was just a little extreme. She would tip five or six dollars on a drink. When the girls onstage weren't making any money, she would tip them out of her pocket. She tipped the DJ's out fifty or sixty dollars, which is quite more than they're used too.

One night, our DJ was up in the booth with his girlfriend, also a dancer. When Monarch tipped him out for the evening, Girlfriend made a comment that she really liked to tip well.

"This is my fun money," Monarch replied. "I make my real money selling pussy on the side."

Wow. When we heard about this, we weren't really sure what to do. It's really not a good idea for a strip club to knowingly employ a hooker/escort. You can get into all sorts of crazy litigation's, not the least being soliciting. Luckily for us, we didn't have to wait long for proof.

Monarch was an entrepreneurial hooker. This bitch had business cards. She was passing them out to customers after they tipped her. It was one of those "you like what you see here? Why not give me a call later and we'll meet up. Here's my card."

We don't even allow the dancers to leave with customers, let alone meet them later for a quick "hide the salami" for an undetermined sum of money.

We found one of the business cards on the table, but were unsure of who they belonged to. We decided, in the best interests of the club, to perform a mandatory bag search. The rest of the cards turned up in Monarch's bag.

Monarch went nuts when we confronted her with the business cards. She didn't deny they were hers; however, she just resented the fact that we would no longer employ her at our establishment. She began screaming at everyone in the club. Here we are, attempting to close our registers and wipe of our tables, and she's screaming- no, preaching at the top of her lungs about how she has a business that doesn't involve us, and she's just trying to make a living and take care of her children.

During all of this she's prancing around the building, getting in anyone's face who will listen to her, all the while attempting to convince us that she deserves to keep her job. It was quite the spectacle.

The trouble came when the DJ told her to shut up, she was giving him a headache.

Monarch went off like a fuse had been lit underneath her ass. It was "bitch I'll fuck you up" and "don't talk to me like that you fat asshole" and she went as far as to call someone (and I swear to you this happened) a "dookie eating bitch."

Who says dookie anymore? Hookers, apparently.

It was then that they decided, in the best interests of everyone, to escort Monarch outside to her vehicle; however, not before she managed to slug our door guy across the face a few times.

Moral of the story: don't piss of a hooker. They fight too.

11 Comments:

Blogger 6th Floor blog said...

dookie eating bitch!

Hooker's and South Park.

"Who went dookie in the urinal?!"

12:23 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Much as I generally hatre to pick nits ofver English, I'll bloody well do it anyway.
Segway? Segway? I really enjoy this blog, especially as it is written in proper, decent English, which is something that I appreciate and enjoy.
I apologise, but this segway thing is a major peeve of mine. I imagine that the word you were looking for is segue. Segway is a brand name for the motor scooter thingy.

Anyway, love the blog. Apologies if I am mistaken or just annoying.

2:25 AM  
Anonymous Jennifer said...

Ya know, I just can't help admiring Monarch's entrepreneurial spirit. I don't WANT to, and yet I do...

8:28 AM  
Anonymous rasta eric said...

I find it hard to believe that no one is comparing the titty bar to a whore house but me.

12:34 PM  
Blogger Steve said...

Just imagine a segue as someone riding a Segway from one topic to another related one. No need to "pick nits" when everyone knows what you're trying to say.

And since you felt the need to point it out, you certainly could have done so out in a more concise manner. I hatre it when people are long-winded.

Steve
Liquor Store Stories

1:21 PM  
Anonymous Joe Bartender said...

Great story. When I used to tend bar in a strip joint it was kind of common knowledge that this happened a lot. But it was a big club and the managers weren't too interested in cracking down on it.

5:21 PM  
Blogger waitress said...

Dear Rasta Eric,
No, you are not the only person making comparisons between my place of establishment and a whorehouse; however, you are the only one who has sent said reference in an intelligable, reasonably well-spelled manner. For that, and in the interests of free speech I chose to publish this and probably any subsequent comments you choose to write.

However- I would be interested to know what evidence you have to base this comparison. Perhaps you would like to leave further comments explaining your position on things? Diversity is always appreciated.

Until then.

7:03 PM  
Blogger ADW said...

See what people don't understand is that the story proves that you work at a reputable club (no that is not an oxymoron for you idiots out there). By taking overt action to remove that person from the club's payroll, the people there were doing a couple of things:
1. Keeping the club's reputation out of the dirt
2. Staying out of trouble - once the police find out that a club has dancers with "side jobs", they tend to try and FIND something that will shut them down.
3. Protecting the other employees from what turned out to be a fairly unbalanced person.

We call this "policing our own"

Oh and FYI, DO NOT compare a strip club to a whorehouse, there is no comparison.

8:18 AM  
Anonymous rasta eric said...

Well, where I live (toronto canada), all strip clubs are run or (not) secretly owned by outlaw biker gangs.

These clubs are forever being busted for "unsavory" and "lewd" behaviour on the part of the dancers.

It is not a secret that once you get around the $100 lapdance, much more is possible. The right wheels (bouncies) need to be greased. Also, In my humble opinion, the act of lapdancing itself, I.E. gyrating on someones erect member , for money, is itself an act of prostitution. Although a "mini" one.

I do love strip clubs though.

8:35 AM  
Blogger Seth said...

You gotta go outside of Vegas for a legal brothel. Titty bars are everywhere.

That's pretty crazy, but common I suppose. Business cards. That's classy.

9:24 AM  
Anonymous Lily said...

Hey segway/segue bitch. Stop preaching like a whore, shut up and read the blog. If you want a voice, write you're own mother-fucking blog. Make sure you hire someone to proof-read it for you though.

Hatre? Ofver? Were you typing with one hand? ...

5:08 PM  

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