As you already know, Sundays are my longest shift of the week. It's typically a 15-16 hour workday and it's a tough one. There's a running joke at the club that if weird shit is going to happen, it's going to happen on one of my shifts. One of the DJ's calls it 'KiKi's Wild and Wacky Weekends." It's an appropriate title and yesterday was no exception, the weirdos were out in full force.
The day started bland enough, slow because of all the football games on TV, a normal Sunday afternoon in the winter. It's when the sun starts to set that the strangeness sets in.
It's the end of the month, so I had plenty of Entertainers working, all trying for that last shift to make their rent money for the month. On a typical Sunday during the month, I scramble trying to get girls in to work, as they say Sunday is their family day/church day/football day, whatever. I usually start my day by sending out over 50 text messages to insure that I'll have a lot of girls for the day. I didn't have to worry about that yesterday, so I thought it was going to be smooth sailing.
By the time shift change at 7:00 rolled around, things were running as they should, with no major issues. I closed out my day shift bartender and went back out onto the floor to see how things were going. The crowd was starting to pick up and I was feeling pretty good. I went outside to our smoking patio to get some fresh air and sat at the unattended bar to check my email on my phone. There was a couple sitting at the bar, smoking and mumbling to each other and before I knew it, the guy was grabbing at my hair, trying to smooth down the parts that were deliberately spiked up. Grrrr. I am one of those people, I'm sure you know a few, who do not like to be touched unless I have invited you to do so. I never, ever give out any kind of vibe that strangers would mistake for such an invitation. I have my own little invisible bubble that people who know me, respect. I jerked my head away, pushed his hand away and told him to knock it off.
As I listened to them talk to each other, I realized that there was a dangerous combination going on with them; alcohol mixed with pills. The behavior is unmistakable to my experienced eye. I went back inside and told my bouncer, Jack*, to let them know that they would no longer be served and that they had 30 minutes to call for a ride and leave the property. He said they were cool with that and showed no hostility. Happy drunks are much better than angry ones, for sure.
A few minutes later I was at our front desk checking my Entertainer List, when I saw through the patio door that Mrs. Drunk Druggie was up on the patio bar, on her knees, trying to light her cigarette from the flame of our standing propane heater. Oh hell no. I quickly walked outside and told her to get the fuck off the bar. She either didn't hear me in her concentration or she was simply ignoring me. I walked behind the bar, grabbed her cigarette out of her hand and again told her to get off the bar. She looked at me as if I was an alien from another planet and surprisingly quickly, got the fuck off the bar. At this point I went back inside and told Jack to get them out.
A couple of minutes later Jack informed me that Mr. and Mrs. Drunk Druggie had an open tab at the bar and my bartender Keri* was asking him to let them back in to close out their tab. I said hell no, I was not letting those two back in the building and told Keri to close them out and give their credit card to Jack so he could get their signature outside, where they were waiting for their cab.
This is when things took a turn for the weirder. Not bad weird, but weird nonetheless. Jack came to me and recounted the conversation he had just had with Mr. and Mrs. Drunk Druggie;
Jack: Sir, I need you to sign your credit card slip for the tab you were running at the bar.
Mr. Drunk Druggie: Ok. Is she a good bartender?
Jack: Keri is the best bartender around, Sir.
Mr. Drunk Druggie: What's a good tip for the best bartender around?
Jack: Well Sir, 15% is a respectable tip but 20-30% would be a good tip.
Mr. Drunk Druggie to Mrs. Drunk Druggie: What about $600, honey?
Mrs. Drunk Druggie in response: No way, baby. I like $818 much better. I like 8's and 1's.
Mr. Drunk Druggie: Ok. What's $63 plus $818?
Jack: That would be $881, Sir.
So, Mr. Drunk Druggie writes in an $818 tip on a $63 tab and signs his name just as their cab pulls up.
Jack: Thank you, Sir, you two have a great night.
Mrs. Drunk Druggie: Word.
And off they went. By the time Jack finished telling me the story, word had already gotten to Keri, behind the bar and when I walked up to her she was positively shaking. "Are you fucking kidding me?", she asked. "Nope. He tipped you eight hundred and eighteen fucking dollars, baby.", I replied. "Don't get too excited yet, kiddo, we don't know if it's even going to go through." I told her.
So off we went, to the end of the bar, to where the credit card machine is, to see if this amazing tip was actually going to happen. Keri could hardly punch in all the numbers, she was shaking so badly. See, Keri just had a baby boy 2 months ago and a tip this big would really come in handy for her. Jack was also waiting anxiously, as he knew that if it actually went through, that Keri would tip him out very, very well. "Beep, beep", pause, "Beep"......."Transaction Complete." Yessssss......it went through and Keri was jumping up and down in pure joy. I was so happy for her, she really, really needed this, not only financially but her self-esteem has taken a huge hit because of her difficulty in losing her "baby weight." Not only that, but the father of her baby turned out not to be the man she thought he was. So when I say she needed this, she really did, on so many levels.
Right around this time, the club started filling up. My waitresses were selling high-dollar bottles of champagne like crazy and my girls were raking in the dough. Jack caught two couples in the Ladies Room about to get down and dirty, a creepy old man kept grabbing at me every time I walked past his stool at the bar, one of my waitresses had to leave to take her sick daughter to the ER and my DJ put his angry wife on the phone with me so I could explain the innocence of the bite mark one of my Entertainers had left on his neck. To say it was hectic is putting it mildly.
CeCe came in, not only to waitress for me but to help get me leveled again. We're a damn good team, she and I and I love her like a sister.
Keri ended up making over $1200 last night and she deserved every dollar. Like I said in a previous post, she's my favorite.
Just another Wild & Wacky Sunday at The Strip Club.
When I finally got home, close to 4:00 am, I soaked in the tub for about an hour, as my body was screaming in pain from all the running around I did. I've been resting most of today because I've got to turn around and do it all again tomorrow.
As I get ready to click "publish post", I see on my clock that 2008 will be here in a mere 8 minutes. Happy New Year, Little Pet Blog.....here's lookin' at you, kid.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Friday, December 28, 2007
The New Year Is Almost Here
C'mon 2008, hurry up and get here! It's just gotta be better than 2007. We're in the Home Stretch now and for that I am thankful.
What happens in The Strip Club on New Year's Eve, you ask? Absolutely nothing. We are closed only two days of the year, Christmas Day and New Year's Eve. In years past, we have found that no one really goes to a strip club for New Year's Eve, in fact the last year we were open on that night, we closed just after midnight because the club was empty. Yay for me that it falls on Monday this year, as Monday nights are my shift.
New Year's Day, however, is another story. It is one of the busiest nights of the season for us. Two years ago, on New Year's Day, we had our asses handed to us because we were terribly shorthanded and the club was standing room only.
It fell on a Sunday that year and Sunday is my double-shift day. I arrive at the club at 1:00 pm and don't get out until after 3:00 am the next morning. My bartender that day was Keri*, my favorite. Keri wasn't feeling well and got progressively worse as the day rolled on. We found out later that it was food poisoning from some wings her boyfriend had packed in her lunch for the day. By 8:00 pm, Keri was down for the count. She had thrown up so many times that she could barely stand up, let alone tend bar on a busy shift. I sent her home and as it was already into the evening, I couldn't get a hold of anyone else to come in to cover the remainder of her shift, so I had to do it.
I am a speed bartender with over 20 years experience, trained in a high volume night club, so I knew the shift would be a walk in the park. The other problem I had was two of my servers were no call, no show. It was just going to be Nina* and I working it all. Nina was an excellent server, so I had no doubt she could run the floor on her own. We were a good team that night, getting the drinks out at record speed. Not only was I slinging drinks, I was calling drink specials, dealing with Entertainers, cutting off drunks and all around running the club from behind my busy bar. It was awesome.
We had a couple of managers from another strip club in town come in and they totally made my night. As in most clubs, no matter where you are, we offer "Club Courtesy" to staff members of rival clubs. This includes free cover and usually a comped round of drinks. The two guys that came in that night were there to spend money and that they did. They spent so much money, that at one point I had to leave the bar and refill my empty ATM machine. They weren't buying dances, just buying bricks ($100) of 1's from me and throwing them all over the Entertainers on stage. "Making it rain" is the strip club term for this type of behavior. The girls were making so much money on their stages that the bouncers had to scoop up all the cash after each set and stuff it in champagne buckets.
They were "throwing" money at me too. Every time they came to the bar to buy a few more bricks of 1's, they would peel off about $25-$40 and give it to me. It seemed as if everyone there that night was in the spending mood. Nina and I were getting tipped an average of $5-$10 per round, from almost everyone.
My Bouncers that night were at the top of their game. Every time I needed something, from fresh bottles of liquor to a new keg, they were always right there. The bouncers work for tips just like everyone else in the club and they were making cash hand over fist, as well. We were all working our asses off, non-stop.
By the time we closed and collectively counted our tips, the exhaustion of the night disappeared. We had all banked. In the six hours that I was behind the bar, I made almost $1000. I tipped out my Bouncers over $200 for all of their hard work, they didn't want to take that much but I insisted. Rule #1 in working at a Strip Club; never turn down a tip.
I miss those days when my body allowed me to do whatever I wanted and work as hard as I wished. Keri is my bartender again this New Year's Day and I sure hope she doesn't get sick again or I'll be screwed.
What happens in The Strip Club on New Year's Eve, you ask? Absolutely nothing. We are closed only two days of the year, Christmas Day and New Year's Eve. In years past, we have found that no one really goes to a strip club for New Year's Eve, in fact the last year we were open on that night, we closed just after midnight because the club was empty. Yay for me that it falls on Monday this year, as Monday nights are my shift.
New Year's Day, however, is another story. It is one of the busiest nights of the season for us. Two years ago, on New Year's Day, we had our asses handed to us because we were terribly shorthanded and the club was standing room only.
It fell on a Sunday that year and Sunday is my double-shift day. I arrive at the club at 1:00 pm and don't get out until after 3:00 am the next morning. My bartender that day was Keri*, my favorite. Keri wasn't feeling well and got progressively worse as the day rolled on. We found out later that it was food poisoning from some wings her boyfriend had packed in her lunch for the day. By 8:00 pm, Keri was down for the count. She had thrown up so many times that she could barely stand up, let alone tend bar on a busy shift. I sent her home and as it was already into the evening, I couldn't get a hold of anyone else to come in to cover the remainder of her shift, so I had to do it.
I am a speed bartender with over 20 years experience, trained in a high volume night club, so I knew the shift would be a walk in the park. The other problem I had was two of my servers were no call, no show. It was just going to be Nina* and I working it all. Nina was an excellent server, so I had no doubt she could run the floor on her own. We were a good team that night, getting the drinks out at record speed. Not only was I slinging drinks, I was calling drink specials, dealing with Entertainers, cutting off drunks and all around running the club from behind my busy bar. It was awesome.
We had a couple of managers from another strip club in town come in and they totally made my night. As in most clubs, no matter where you are, we offer "Club Courtesy" to staff members of rival clubs. This includes free cover and usually a comped round of drinks. The two guys that came in that night were there to spend money and that they did. They spent so much money, that at one point I had to leave the bar and refill my empty ATM machine. They weren't buying dances, just buying bricks ($100) of 1's from me and throwing them all over the Entertainers on stage. "Making it rain" is the strip club term for this type of behavior. The girls were making so much money on their stages that the bouncers had to scoop up all the cash after each set and stuff it in champagne buckets.
They were "throwing" money at me too. Every time they came to the bar to buy a few more bricks of 1's, they would peel off about $25-$40 and give it to me. It seemed as if everyone there that night was in the spending mood. Nina and I were getting tipped an average of $5-$10 per round, from almost everyone.
My Bouncers that night were at the top of their game. Every time I needed something, from fresh bottles of liquor to a new keg, they were always right there. The bouncers work for tips just like everyone else in the club and they were making cash hand over fist, as well. We were all working our asses off, non-stop.
By the time we closed and collectively counted our tips, the exhaustion of the night disappeared. We had all banked. In the six hours that I was behind the bar, I made almost $1000. I tipped out my Bouncers over $200 for all of their hard work, they didn't want to take that much but I insisted. Rule #1 in working at a Strip Club; never turn down a tip.
I miss those days when my body allowed me to do whatever I wanted and work as hard as I wished. Keri is my bartender again this New Year's Day and I sure hope she doesn't get sick again or I'll be screwed.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Home, Creeps and Eats
It's Thursday and I don't have a Manager Meeting today. YAY! Sometimes I just hate having to go in for the meeting when it's my day off. I've got dinner in the oven, a fire roaring in the fireplace and sleepy dogs at my feet. Nice.
As I sit here in front of my computer screen, I find myself struggling to come up with a story today. You ever have one of those moments when your mind just won't let you take yourself back to an event in the past? I'm having one of those moments. Not exactly an opportune time for it, as I am attempting to create a new entry for My Little Pet Blog. Maybe it's the fact that I have the SciFi Channel on and it's showing an episode of "Ghost Hunters", my favorite show.
I have always had an avid interest in the paranormal. One of my few memories from childhood is checking out as many ghost books from the library as I could. My fascination has not waned in all these years. I watch every show and documentary I can find on the subject. I don't want to go looking for my own experiences, mind you, but I love watching others do so. I've had two experiences of my own, where I saw what I thought to be a full body apparition. Scared the crap out of me both times and I'll die happy never seeing one again.
I've also lived in two houses where I have experienced unexplained events.
One house was right in the heart of downtown Salt Lake City, where I lived for several years with my first husband. The house was almost 100 years old and I loved it. Hardwood floors, a big ol' fireplace, claw foot bathtub and built-in cabinets throughout the house. It even had a creepy basement with a defunct old coal furnace and an ominous crawlspace. The basement was the only part of the house that I didn't care for.
One day, my husband and I were out for the day, probably running errands or something and we came home to a bizarre sight.
We had a standing CD shelf unit that was bright red, from IKEA. This CD stand was in a corner in the breakfast nook. It was a sturdily constructed piece, with bolts going up both sides holding the shelves in and bolts on the top and bottom. Well, when we came home that day, the CD shelf unit was in a different shape. It looked as if someone, someone very strong, had gripped both sides of the unit and pulled it apart. The top and bottom were still bolted in but the shelves had all fallen out in various positions. It was so weird. We both stood there looking at it for a long time, trying to find a rational explanation of how this could have happened. We couldn't come up with anything. It spooked me, for sure, but I still loved the house.
It was also in this house that I saw what I thought to be a full body apparition. I was home alone, lying in bed, when I looked up and there in the doorway stood what appeared to be an older man dressed in the kind of blue-grey jumpsuit that mechanics, miners or factory workers used to wear. I quickly ducked my head under the covers and stayed that way for the better part of an hour. I was creeped out, for sure, but I still loved the house.
After these two incidents, I took to talking to my ghost. I chatted about what I was doing at the moment and mused aloud about who I thought he was and his connection to the house. He never responded and after I started talking to him, the creepy stuff stopped. Was it all my imagination? Perhaps, but that CD shelf was real and I still cannot come up with an explanation of what happened to it.
Well, my timer just buzzed and my dinner is done. Time for eats.
As I sit here in front of my computer screen, I find myself struggling to come up with a story today. You ever have one of those moments when your mind just won't let you take yourself back to an event in the past? I'm having one of those moments. Not exactly an opportune time for it, as I am attempting to create a new entry for My Little Pet Blog. Maybe it's the fact that I have the SciFi Channel on and it's showing an episode of "Ghost Hunters", my favorite show.
I have always had an avid interest in the paranormal. One of my few memories from childhood is checking out as many ghost books from the library as I could. My fascination has not waned in all these years. I watch every show and documentary I can find on the subject. I don't want to go looking for my own experiences, mind you, but I love watching others do so. I've had two experiences of my own, where I saw what I thought to be a full body apparition. Scared the crap out of me both times and I'll die happy never seeing one again.
I've also lived in two houses where I have experienced unexplained events.
One house was right in the heart of downtown Salt Lake City, where I lived for several years with my first husband. The house was almost 100 years old and I loved it. Hardwood floors, a big ol' fireplace, claw foot bathtub and built-in cabinets throughout the house. It even had a creepy basement with a defunct old coal furnace and an ominous crawlspace. The basement was the only part of the house that I didn't care for.
One day, my husband and I were out for the day, probably running errands or something and we came home to a bizarre sight.
We had a standing CD shelf unit that was bright red, from IKEA. This CD stand was in a corner in the breakfast nook. It was a sturdily constructed piece, with bolts going up both sides holding the shelves in and bolts on the top and bottom. Well, when we came home that day, the CD shelf unit was in a different shape. It looked as if someone, someone very strong, had gripped both sides of the unit and pulled it apart. The top and bottom were still bolted in but the shelves had all fallen out in various positions. It was so weird. We both stood there looking at it for a long time, trying to find a rational explanation of how this could have happened. We couldn't come up with anything. It spooked me, for sure, but I still loved the house.
It was also in this house that I saw what I thought to be a full body apparition. I was home alone, lying in bed, when I looked up and there in the doorway stood what appeared to be an older man dressed in the kind of blue-grey jumpsuit that mechanics, miners or factory workers used to wear. I quickly ducked my head under the covers and stayed that way for the better part of an hour. I was creeped out, for sure, but I still loved the house.
After these two incidents, I took to talking to my ghost. I chatted about what I was doing at the moment and mused aloud about who I thought he was and his connection to the house. He never responded and after I started talking to him, the creepy stuff stopped. Was it all my imagination? Perhaps, but that CD shelf was real and I still cannot come up with an explanation of what happened to it.
Well, my timer just buzzed and my dinner is done. Time for eats.
Poor Little Birthday Girl
Twas the night after Christmas and all through the house, all the creatures were stirring, except for the mouse. Smart little bugger, too, otherwise the Vampires would've eaten him alive.
My 9 hour shift tonight felt like 18 hours. It was the night that wouldn't end. Nothing major happened, just a typical night full of drunks and dancer drama. I had to inform a female customer that is was not okay to give lap dances and take pictures, my bartender kept sneaking out for unauthorized smoke breaks and one of my dancers was celebrating her 27th birthday.
Birthday Girl started out her shift happy, perfectly coiffed and excited about the prospect of all of her high dollar regulars showing up to shower her with Birthday Cash. I allowed her to take more breaks than usual, as in my state it is illegal for an Entertainer to drink while she is in costume and on shift. As the night progressed, Birthday Girl got drunker and drunker and increasingly more morose. Only 2 of her regulars showed up and she wasn't showered with Birthday Cash the way she had anticipated.
By 1:00 am, Birthday Girl was crying into her drink outside on the smoking patio. Non-smoking laws suck when it's cold out, our propane heater only warms you up when you're standing directly underneath it. So there she was, shivering from the cold, too much alcohol and an enveloping depression, crying about the state of her life. Seems like whenever some women get drunk and emotional they decide to dissect their lives and almost always come to the conclusion that their lives suck out loud. Birthday Girl was no exception.
I sat with her for a while, listening to her rant about the state of her marriage, finances, job, age, school, children, lack of loyal friends, etc., etc., etc. I'm a good listener. I have the rare ability to sit and listen to someone speak, actually hear what they say and not interject with my opinion or try to shift the conversation to myself. I hate it when people offer to listen, then turn around and start talking about themselves. We live in a self-centered, narcissistic world these days.
I have found that just by listening to someone and actually hearing what they say is so much more therapeutic for them than trying to offer up some advice or empty platitude. So, I listened to Birthday Girl until eventually she stopped crying, stopped drinking and went home to her waiting husband. Birthday Girl is one of my favorite Entertainers, one of the few that I actually consider a friend. I felt bad for her, that she allowed alcohol consumption to ruin what would otherwise have been a special day. As far as drama is concerned, this was barely a blip on the radar.
I was short-handed on servers tonight, as one of the girls called in sick. Jane* had to work the floor by herself and she worked her ass off. It was frustrating for me that I couldn't help her, because of my back. She did a kick-ass job and was rewarded with a $56 tip on a $144 tab. I was so happy for her, she deserved it for running her ass off for that table. I am always excited for my servers and bartenders when they make good money on a shift. My bartender managed to make almost $500 even with all her smoke breaks. These girls, Entertainers included, work hard every day just to make a living.
It makes me so sad though, when I see them throwing away their hard earned cash on drugs and low-life men. Not all of them do, thank God, some of them actually lead normal lives and buy houses and support their families. Birthday Girl is one of the "normal" ones, I just wish she didn't drink so much.
As my day winds down to a close and I get ready to head off to bed, I am reflective of my own life......it's a simple life, just the way I like it.
My 9 hour shift tonight felt like 18 hours. It was the night that wouldn't end. Nothing major happened, just a typical night full of drunks and dancer drama. I had to inform a female customer that is was not okay to give lap dances and take pictures, my bartender kept sneaking out for unauthorized smoke breaks and one of my dancers was celebrating her 27th birthday.
Birthday Girl started out her shift happy, perfectly coiffed and excited about the prospect of all of her high dollar regulars showing up to shower her with Birthday Cash. I allowed her to take more breaks than usual, as in my state it is illegal for an Entertainer to drink while she is in costume and on shift. As the night progressed, Birthday Girl got drunker and drunker and increasingly more morose. Only 2 of her regulars showed up and she wasn't showered with Birthday Cash the way she had anticipated.
By 1:00 am, Birthday Girl was crying into her drink outside on the smoking patio. Non-smoking laws suck when it's cold out, our propane heater only warms you up when you're standing directly underneath it. So there she was, shivering from the cold, too much alcohol and an enveloping depression, crying about the state of her life. Seems like whenever some women get drunk and emotional they decide to dissect their lives and almost always come to the conclusion that their lives suck out loud. Birthday Girl was no exception.
I sat with her for a while, listening to her rant about the state of her marriage, finances, job, age, school, children, lack of loyal friends, etc., etc., etc. I'm a good listener. I have the rare ability to sit and listen to someone speak, actually hear what they say and not interject with my opinion or try to shift the conversation to myself. I hate it when people offer to listen, then turn around and start talking about themselves. We live in a self-centered, narcissistic world these days.
I have found that just by listening to someone and actually hearing what they say is so much more therapeutic for them than trying to offer up some advice or empty platitude. So, I listened to Birthday Girl until eventually she stopped crying, stopped drinking and went home to her waiting husband. Birthday Girl is one of my favorite Entertainers, one of the few that I actually consider a friend. I felt bad for her, that she allowed alcohol consumption to ruin what would otherwise have been a special day. As far as drama is concerned, this was barely a blip on the radar.
I was short-handed on servers tonight, as one of the girls called in sick. Jane* had to work the floor by herself and she worked her ass off. It was frustrating for me that I couldn't help her, because of my back. She did a kick-ass job and was rewarded with a $56 tip on a $144 tab. I was so happy for her, she deserved it for running her ass off for that table. I am always excited for my servers and bartenders when they make good money on a shift. My bartender managed to make almost $500 even with all her smoke breaks. These girls, Entertainers included, work hard every day just to make a living.
It makes me so sad though, when I see them throwing away their hard earned cash on drugs and low-life men. Not all of them do, thank God, some of them actually lead normal lives and buy houses and support their families. Birthday Girl is one of the "normal" ones, I just wish she didn't drink so much.
As my day winds down to a close and I get ready to head off to bed, I am reflective of my own life......it's a simple life, just the way I like it.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Christmas Grump
Biscuits, Wingnut and Shadybear opened their Christmas presents when I got home this evening. They each got a Kitty from the "Terrible Nasty Scaries" series of dog toys. They are adorable, colorful, canvas kitties named "Dirty Rotten Kitty, Awful Mad Kitty and Big Mean Kitty." They each came with their own story and after they opened their Kitty-Gifts, we had story time and I read aloud each Kitty's story. My 3 girls listened with rapt attention throughout and it was an enjoyable time had by all.
However, ever since story time ended, Shadybear has been an insufferable Grump. Below, you will see a series of pictures I took this evening. These pictures depict Shadybear grumbling, barking and growling at Biscuits and Wingnut because they are looking at Shadybear's Kitty. Mind you, neither of them will venture within 5 feet of Grumpy Shadybear right now, yet still she grumbles away.
I've given Shadybear numerous toys since she came home with me but she hasn't played with any of them until now. Apparently, "Dirty Rotten Kitty" has touched her heart and she feels as if she must guard him with her life. As of this writing, she is still grumbling. My big goofy girl.
However, ever since story time ended, Shadybear has been an insufferable Grump. Below, you will see a series of pictures I took this evening. These pictures depict Shadybear grumbling, barking and growling at Biscuits and Wingnut because they are looking at Shadybear's Kitty. Mind you, neither of them will venture within 5 feet of Grumpy Shadybear right now, yet still she grumbles away.
I've given Shadybear numerous toys since she came home with me but she hasn't played with any of them until now. Apparently, "Dirty Rotten Kitty" has touched her heart and she feels as if she must guard him with her life. As of this writing, she is still grumbling. My big goofy girl.
Headaches, Heists & Thanks
Today was a better day, for the most part. I woke up with a massive migraine, but I was able to pull it back to a distant throb with a dose of Relpax, my miracle drug. I've discussed some of my medical issues and migraine headaches go right along with the rest. My headache started when I was a freshman in high school and it hasn't let up since. Some days are worse than others, but I've had a constant headache 24/7 for 27 years. I used to suffer horribly, but 2 years ago my Doctor prescribed me Relpax, it's the only drug that has ever broken the cycle of migraine for me. It is truly a lifesaver, for when I take it the migraine pulls back to a manageable level within 30 minutes.
On my way to my parents house, I stopped to check in on Chopper and Mr. Littles. As soon as I walked in the door, I saw evidence that they had gotten into the cabinet and ate the entire box of Greenies I brought over for them yesterday evening. Greenies are little green, toothbrush shaped treats that are like doggie crack. They go completely nuts over them but the directions on the box say not to give them more than one Greenie per day. They ate 25 of them. It doesn't say anywhere on the box what will happen if they eat more than one and they seem just fine. I was upset at first, as Greenies are not cheap. I couldn't stay mad, Chopper was so wiggly when I got there this morning, so happy to see me and I was picturing the 2 of them conspiring their Greenie Heist. However, I made the mistake of texting K and telling him about it, thinking he would get a chuckle of out it like I did. Nope. He got mad. I won't go into all the details but eventually I was able to calm him down and assure him that they were fine.
When I arrived at my parents house, I found out that my nephews had conducted a heist of their own. They got up at 5:00 am, snuck out into their living room and opened up all of their presents, except for the ones they could tell were clothes. I love these little guys, but what a bratty thing to do! They took all of the fun out of Christmas Morning for their parents. My brother sulked for much of the morning until they got to my parents house. When they arrived, Cubby's brattiness continued. I imagine it was a result of over-stimulation and too many sweets but he was an absolute bear for much of the day. I'm so glad I don't have human children of my own, especially on days like today.
I'm home now, after a long day with my family and a 2 hour nap with Chopper and Mr. Littles. After dinner I felt as if I was going to slip into a coma and I didn't even eat any turkey. I think it was a combination of my brewing emotions and my pain medication, I feel like a zombie.
Back to work tomorrow night. I'm covering a shift for our GM, who is in Colorado with his parents until Saturday. I imagine it will be a fairly busy night and I'm looking forward to it. Work is a great distraction, helping me to forget myself, even if just for a little while.
I'd like to take this opportunity to publicly thank one of my readers for his thoughtful feedback about My Little Pet Blog. You know who you are and I appreciate all you've had to say. So, thank you. =)
On my way to my parents house, I stopped to check in on Chopper and Mr. Littles. As soon as I walked in the door, I saw evidence that they had gotten into the cabinet and ate the entire box of Greenies I brought over for them yesterday evening. Greenies are little green, toothbrush shaped treats that are like doggie crack. They go completely nuts over them but the directions on the box say not to give them more than one Greenie per day. They ate 25 of them. It doesn't say anywhere on the box what will happen if they eat more than one and they seem just fine. I was upset at first, as Greenies are not cheap. I couldn't stay mad, Chopper was so wiggly when I got there this morning, so happy to see me and I was picturing the 2 of them conspiring their Greenie Heist. However, I made the mistake of texting K and telling him about it, thinking he would get a chuckle of out it like I did. Nope. He got mad. I won't go into all the details but eventually I was able to calm him down and assure him that they were fine.
When I arrived at my parents house, I found out that my nephews had conducted a heist of their own. They got up at 5:00 am, snuck out into their living room and opened up all of their presents, except for the ones they could tell were clothes. I love these little guys, but what a bratty thing to do! They took all of the fun out of Christmas Morning for their parents. My brother sulked for much of the morning until they got to my parents house. When they arrived, Cubby's brattiness continued. I imagine it was a result of over-stimulation and too many sweets but he was an absolute bear for much of the day. I'm so glad I don't have human children of my own, especially on days like today.
I'm home now, after a long day with my family and a 2 hour nap with Chopper and Mr. Littles. After dinner I felt as if I was going to slip into a coma and I didn't even eat any turkey. I think it was a combination of my brewing emotions and my pain medication, I feel like a zombie.
Back to work tomorrow night. I'm covering a shift for our GM, who is in Colorado with his parents until Saturday. I imagine it will be a fairly busy night and I'm looking forward to it. Work is a great distraction, helping me to forget myself, even if just for a little while.
I'd like to take this opportunity to publicly thank one of my readers for his thoughtful feedback about My Little Pet Blog. You know who you are and I appreciate all you've had to say. So, thank you. =)
Monday, December 24, 2007
Eh.....Merry Christmas
If you are in the Christmas Spirit, having a joyful Holiday, you might want to stop reading now. I'll give you a moment to close out this window and move on to something lighter.
If you're still reading, I can only assume you are either a. Not in the Holiday Spirit or b. Morbidly Curious. Either way, you're here so let's move on.
I have struggled with depression for as long as I can remember. I don't remember much of my childhood but what I do remember is feeling out of sorts much of the time. Most of us go through times in our lives where we feel as if we don't quite fit in, like we are on the outside looking in. I have always felt that way. No matter where I was in life, what I was doing or who I was with, I have always felt like an outsider. Even as a child, with my own family, I felt like I didn't belong.
I've been on various Anti-Depressants since I was 14 years old. Depression is hereditary and it runs far, far back on both sides of my family. I've been in therapy here and there but had such a difficult time opening up to strangers, that I never got much out of it. I am a tough person to get to know, as I live in my own world, out of necessity for my own sanity. I know it's cliche, but I am covered with a protective shell that gets thicker with age. Cliches become cliche because they are true though, right? Anyway, I am perfectly aware of the distance I maintain from all other human beings. Where does it all come from? I don't really know how it started. I do know that I've been damaged by the men in my past and present, but my shell was already formed before I ever became an adult.
What led me to write this post was my evening with my family. My family consists of my parents, my brother, his wife and my 2 nephews. I went to my parents house for dinner this evening and once again, I felt like an outsider. I watched my nephews open a few gifts and even opened a few of my own. I smiled for pictures and gave hugs all around, all the while fighting back tears. Don't get me wrong, I have wonderful parents who are very loving and supportive and I love my older brother dearly. If you've read my previous posts, then you already know how very much in love I am with my nephews, Cubby and Draven. So why did I feel like an interloper? I don't know, but I cried for most of my drive home after dinner. I felt like an idiot, crying while driving through the brightly lit city, past the homes decorated with love and lights and cars full of happy people going to their happy places. I cried so hard that I got the hiccups. I hate having hiccups and they lasted for about 30 minutes, feeling like a dagger in my already migraine pounding head.
I'm not really sure where I'm going with this post, other than to try to quell my loneliness with the written word."But KiKi, don't you have a boyfriend or anything?", you ask. No, I do not and I will probably never write about my last ongoing relationship with my ex-husband, other than to say we are still friends. I came out of that relationship damaged beyond repair, with a large flaming broken heart tattooed on my back. The tattoo is symbolic not only of my relationship, it symbolizes my state of mind and health. I am still a "glass half full" type of person, so I guess I am what you might term a walking contradiction. I always laugh to myself when people tell me they think my tattoo is beautiful. I cannot see beyond the meaning, which is so not beautiful, but sad and dark.
I can usually deal with the darkness I feel much of the time, but lately I am having trouble. I know it's a combination of my increasing physical pain, the Holidays and recent actions of my ex. 2007 has been a very bad year for me on a personal level, yet professionally I have soared. There are plenty of people in the world who have it far worse than me, so I am thankful that I have what I have. I have a good job that I love, a beautiful house that I am in the midst of remodeling, a hot muscle car that I love to drive, 3 loving little furry kids and a family that loves me. On a rational level I know that my life is good, I just wish that I could feel it.
I'm just so tired. Tired of the pain in my body and soul. I don't honestly know if I can be fixed but I will never stop trying. There is a theory floating around out there that if you feel as if you've never belonged anywhere, that you may very well be living your last life here on earth. I consider myself to be a very spiritual person and I firmly believe in the after-life. Am I an "old soul" or do I still have many lessons to learn in many more lives? I don't know.
What I do know is, tomorrow is another day and I will do my very best to make the very best of it. Merry Christmas, Little Pet Blog.
If you're still reading, I can only assume you are either a. Not in the Holiday Spirit or b. Morbidly Curious. Either way, you're here so let's move on.
I have struggled with depression for as long as I can remember. I don't remember much of my childhood but what I do remember is feeling out of sorts much of the time. Most of us go through times in our lives where we feel as if we don't quite fit in, like we are on the outside looking in. I have always felt that way. No matter where I was in life, what I was doing or who I was with, I have always felt like an outsider. Even as a child, with my own family, I felt like I didn't belong.
I've been on various Anti-Depressants since I was 14 years old. Depression is hereditary and it runs far, far back on both sides of my family. I've been in therapy here and there but had such a difficult time opening up to strangers, that I never got much out of it. I am a tough person to get to know, as I live in my own world, out of necessity for my own sanity. I know it's cliche, but I am covered with a protective shell that gets thicker with age. Cliches become cliche because they are true though, right? Anyway, I am perfectly aware of the distance I maintain from all other human beings. Where does it all come from? I don't really know how it started. I do know that I've been damaged by the men in my past and present, but my shell was already formed before I ever became an adult.
What led me to write this post was my evening with my family. My family consists of my parents, my brother, his wife and my 2 nephews. I went to my parents house for dinner this evening and once again, I felt like an outsider. I watched my nephews open a few gifts and even opened a few of my own. I smiled for pictures and gave hugs all around, all the while fighting back tears. Don't get me wrong, I have wonderful parents who are very loving and supportive and I love my older brother dearly. If you've read my previous posts, then you already know how very much in love I am with my nephews, Cubby and Draven. So why did I feel like an interloper? I don't know, but I cried for most of my drive home after dinner. I felt like an idiot, crying while driving through the brightly lit city, past the homes decorated with love and lights and cars full of happy people going to their happy places. I cried so hard that I got the hiccups. I hate having hiccups and they lasted for about 30 minutes, feeling like a dagger in my already migraine pounding head.
I'm not really sure where I'm going with this post, other than to try to quell my loneliness with the written word."But KiKi, don't you have a boyfriend or anything?", you ask. No, I do not and I will probably never write about my last ongoing relationship with my ex-husband, other than to say we are still friends. I came out of that relationship damaged beyond repair, with a large flaming broken heart tattooed on my back. The tattoo is symbolic not only of my relationship, it symbolizes my state of mind and health. I am still a "glass half full" type of person, so I guess I am what you might term a walking contradiction. I always laugh to myself when people tell me they think my tattoo is beautiful. I cannot see beyond the meaning, which is so not beautiful, but sad and dark.
I can usually deal with the darkness I feel much of the time, but lately I am having trouble. I know it's a combination of my increasing physical pain, the Holidays and recent actions of my ex. 2007 has been a very bad year for me on a personal level, yet professionally I have soared. There are plenty of people in the world who have it far worse than me, so I am thankful that I have what I have. I have a good job that I love, a beautiful house that I am in the midst of remodeling, a hot muscle car that I love to drive, 3 loving little furry kids and a family that loves me. On a rational level I know that my life is good, I just wish that I could feel it.
I'm just so tired. Tired of the pain in my body and soul. I don't honestly know if I can be fixed but I will never stop trying. There is a theory floating around out there that if you feel as if you've never belonged anywhere, that you may very well be living your last life here on earth. I consider myself to be a very spiritual person and I firmly believe in the after-life. Am I an "old soul" or do I still have many lessons to learn in many more lives? I don't know.
What I do know is, tomorrow is another day and I will do my very best to make the very best of it. Merry Christmas, Little Pet Blog.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Just One Of Those Days
Today was the day from hell. The closer we get to Christmas, the uglier the behavior, in some people. Today was "just one of those days".
I had to fire a stripper as soon as she walked in the door, because apparently she got wasted while working yesterday and left with two customers. Getting wasted with the owner in the building is already a bad idea, but to leave with customers is even worse. Our owner left me a note to tell her not to even enter the building for at least 90 days. I happened to be stocking our merchandise display by the front door when she walked in at 1:00 pm. She was not happy to hear what I had to say, especially considering we had just allowed her to come back to work there again after I fired her the first time over a year ago. It happens a lot. Some of these girls make the same really bad decisions over and over again and cannot understand that the outcome will always be the same. Working in our club is a privilege and we have a "Zero Tolerance" policy for drugs, drinking while working, sexual activity in the club and especially leaving with customers.
The Government and the Right Wing Fanatics would like nothing more than to put clubs like ours out of business. The best way to shut a club down is to have evidence of prostitution, so we don't take any chances if we think one of our girls is engaging in extra-curricular activities with customers. I never feel bad when I have to fire a girl who has crossed the line with a customer. When they do that, they put my job and the jobs of everyone there in jeopardy, not to mention our Liquor License. If a girl is caught by Undercover Vice for soliciting prostitution, not only will she go to jail, so will the Manager On Duty. We're not having any part of that.
That was how my day started and it went downhill from there. One girl after another came to me with their various complaints, whining and bullshit. One had the audacity to tell me I needed to fire the DJ for playing her the wrong songs for her Stage Set. She whined that because he played the wrong songs, it ruined her day and she wasn't going to make any money. After listening to her go on and on about his "incompetence" for 10 minutes, I finally told her she had a shitty attitude and if 2 songs were going to ruin her day, she had much greater issues that she should seek help for. She stalked out of my office and I didn't hear another peep out of her for the rest of the day. She should consider herself lucky for not peeping, as I would have fired her in a heartbeat if she had. Girls like her are a "cancer' and it's contagious as a motherfucker. It can spread like wildfire to all the girls there and before you know it, there's a brawl in the dressing room.
To add to my already horrible day, my back is a screaming mess. My pain meds were doing absolutely nothing for me and I was miserable. Ha. Look at me now, I sound like a sniveling stripper!
Well, tomorrow is another day, a 16 hour workday, at that. The day before Christmas Eve is a notoriously busy day, so the time will fly by. Thankfully we are closed Monday and Tuesday, so I can escape the Vampires for a little while.
Can it please be January now? K, thanks.
I had to fire a stripper as soon as she walked in the door, because apparently she got wasted while working yesterday and left with two customers. Getting wasted with the owner in the building is already a bad idea, but to leave with customers is even worse. Our owner left me a note to tell her not to even enter the building for at least 90 days. I happened to be stocking our merchandise display by the front door when she walked in at 1:00 pm. She was not happy to hear what I had to say, especially considering we had just allowed her to come back to work there again after I fired her the first time over a year ago. It happens a lot. Some of these girls make the same really bad decisions over and over again and cannot understand that the outcome will always be the same. Working in our club is a privilege and we have a "Zero Tolerance" policy for drugs, drinking while working, sexual activity in the club and especially leaving with customers.
The Government and the Right Wing Fanatics would like nothing more than to put clubs like ours out of business. The best way to shut a club down is to have evidence of prostitution, so we don't take any chances if we think one of our girls is engaging in extra-curricular activities with customers. I never feel bad when I have to fire a girl who has crossed the line with a customer. When they do that, they put my job and the jobs of everyone there in jeopardy, not to mention our Liquor License. If a girl is caught by Undercover Vice for soliciting prostitution, not only will she go to jail, so will the Manager On Duty. We're not having any part of that.
That was how my day started and it went downhill from there. One girl after another came to me with their various complaints, whining and bullshit. One had the audacity to tell me I needed to fire the DJ for playing her the wrong songs for her Stage Set. She whined that because he played the wrong songs, it ruined her day and she wasn't going to make any money. After listening to her go on and on about his "incompetence" for 10 minutes, I finally told her she had a shitty attitude and if 2 songs were going to ruin her day, she had much greater issues that she should seek help for. She stalked out of my office and I didn't hear another peep out of her for the rest of the day. She should consider herself lucky for not peeping, as I would have fired her in a heartbeat if she had. Girls like her are a "cancer' and it's contagious as a motherfucker. It can spread like wildfire to all the girls there and before you know it, there's a brawl in the dressing room.
To add to my already horrible day, my back is a screaming mess. My pain meds were doing absolutely nothing for me and I was miserable. Ha. Look at me now, I sound like a sniveling stripper!
Well, tomorrow is another day, a 16 hour workday, at that. The day before Christmas Eve is a notoriously busy day, so the time will fly by. Thankfully we are closed Monday and Tuesday, so I can escape the Vampires for a little while.
Can it please be January now? K, thanks.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Why "KiKi"?
In previous postings I have discussed the trials and tribulations of my job, my health and my kids, but I haven't touched too much on who I am as a person. Here's the story of my name;
As you already know, my name is Dina but family and friends call me KiKi. The origin of KiKi began about 5 years ago when my oldest nephew was just learning to speak. My nephew's name is Lyon but everyone calls him Cubby. About a week after Cubby was born, I was holding him and talking to him about how it was going to take a while for him to grow into his big, powerful name, that he was still just a little lion cub. I told him that until then, I would call him Cubby. My brother, Cubby's Dad and my parents loved the nickname, so it stuck. Everyone calls him Cubby, even his friends and teachers at school. Cubby is my special boy. Cubby's Mom is an alcoholic and she smoked and drank throughout her pregnancy with Cubby. She and my brother had an on again/off again relationship for the better part of 6 years when she got pregnant. When she found out, they were in an "off again" phase of their relationship and my brother had just moved out of California to be with my parents and I, who had just moved to the Southwest. When she called and told him, he insisted that she immediately move to where we were, to try to get her away from the destructive lifestyle she was leading in San Diego.
It was a valiant effort on my brother's part, to try to get her to stop drinking during her pregnancy but she was having no part of it. She just started trying to hide it better. She wasn't very good at concealing it though, as she was a notoriously violent drunk. Too many times to count, the Police were called to their apartment, as a result of her screaming, violent rages. In the course of her pregnancy, my brother lost both of his front teeth and a good deal of his dignity. She left him more than once, driving back and forth between where we were and San Diego. The last time she left, my parents were so distraught at the thought of losing their future grandchild, that my Dad flew to San Diego himself and brought her back. My parents kept her in their house, under a constant watchful eye until she finally delivered Cubby. He was 2 weeks premature and severely under-weight. I was in the delivery room when he was born and as soon as I saw him, I was in love.
Two months later Cubby's Mom went off the deep end. She went into a violent rage, destroyed everything in the apartment she shared with my brother and did significant damage to my brother's face. The police were called once again and she was promptly escorted off the property to a motel, where my Dad paid the bill for her to stay the night. The next morning, she got into her car, got drunk and crashed into a family of four in their mini-van. Luckily, the family was not hurt and Cubby's Mom got a First Class Ticket to jail, where she stayed for the next 6 months. I could go on and on about how I feel about this woman but she's not worth the energy it takes to write about her. I will say this though, my brother is still with this woman and they produced another son, Draven, 18 months after Cubby was born. She is a sober alcoholic. She doesn't drink, yet she maintains all the shitty behavior she did when she was drinking.
Anyway, that is the back-story of my nephew, Cubby. When his Mom went to jail, I wanted to adopt Cubby and raise him as my own. My parents and my brother would not let me, they assured me that they would raise Cubby and make sure he had all the chances in life that he would not have otherwise had, if he were with his Mom. I say that to help you understand just how special and important this little guy is to me.
Back to my name. Cubby is a Fetal-Alcohol baby and it took him longer than most kids to learn how to speak. For several years, he had his own language that we struggled to understand. At this time, I was married to K and we owned a custom paint & body shop, that my parents brought Cubby to visit frequently. Cubby struggled with our names, he could manage "Uncle K...." but just could not grasp "Auntie Dina", so he morphed it into "KiKi". Well, it stuck. I've been KiKi ever since and I love that my sweet little guy, whose nickname had been given to him by me had given me my own nickname.
Cubby is doing great now. He and his brother Draven are the best of friends. Draven may be 18 months younger but he's already bigger than Cubby. See, their Mom had been in state prison on another DUI for much of her pregnancy with Draven, so he is lucky not to have had the same Fetal-Alcohol Syndrome fate as his brother. I try to see them as much as I can and look forward to spending Christmas with them and the rest of my family.
So there you have it. That was the slightly unabridged version of the story of my name.
As you already know, my name is Dina but family and friends call me KiKi. The origin of KiKi began about 5 years ago when my oldest nephew was just learning to speak. My nephew's name is Lyon but everyone calls him Cubby. About a week after Cubby was born, I was holding him and talking to him about how it was going to take a while for him to grow into his big, powerful name, that he was still just a little lion cub. I told him that until then, I would call him Cubby. My brother, Cubby's Dad and my parents loved the nickname, so it stuck. Everyone calls him Cubby, even his friends and teachers at school. Cubby is my special boy. Cubby's Mom is an alcoholic and she smoked and drank throughout her pregnancy with Cubby. She and my brother had an on again/off again relationship for the better part of 6 years when she got pregnant. When she found out, they were in an "off again" phase of their relationship and my brother had just moved out of California to be with my parents and I, who had just moved to the Southwest. When she called and told him, he insisted that she immediately move to where we were, to try to get her away from the destructive lifestyle she was leading in San Diego.
It was a valiant effort on my brother's part, to try to get her to stop drinking during her pregnancy but she was having no part of it. She just started trying to hide it better. She wasn't very good at concealing it though, as she was a notoriously violent drunk. Too many times to count, the Police were called to their apartment, as a result of her screaming, violent rages. In the course of her pregnancy, my brother lost both of his front teeth and a good deal of his dignity. She left him more than once, driving back and forth between where we were and San Diego. The last time she left, my parents were so distraught at the thought of losing their future grandchild, that my Dad flew to San Diego himself and brought her back. My parents kept her in their house, under a constant watchful eye until she finally delivered Cubby. He was 2 weeks premature and severely under-weight. I was in the delivery room when he was born and as soon as I saw him, I was in love.
Two months later Cubby's Mom went off the deep end. She went into a violent rage, destroyed everything in the apartment she shared with my brother and did significant damage to my brother's face. The police were called once again and she was promptly escorted off the property to a motel, where my Dad paid the bill for her to stay the night. The next morning, she got into her car, got drunk and crashed into a family of four in their mini-van. Luckily, the family was not hurt and Cubby's Mom got a First Class Ticket to jail, where she stayed for the next 6 months. I could go on and on about how I feel about this woman but she's not worth the energy it takes to write about her. I will say this though, my brother is still with this woman and they produced another son, Draven, 18 months after Cubby was born. She is a sober alcoholic. She doesn't drink, yet she maintains all the shitty behavior she did when she was drinking.
Anyway, that is the back-story of my nephew, Cubby. When his Mom went to jail, I wanted to adopt Cubby and raise him as my own. My parents and my brother would not let me, they assured me that they would raise Cubby and make sure he had all the chances in life that he would not have otherwise had, if he were with his Mom. I say that to help you understand just how special and important this little guy is to me.
Back to my name. Cubby is a Fetal-Alcohol baby and it took him longer than most kids to learn how to speak. For several years, he had his own language that we struggled to understand. At this time, I was married to K and we owned a custom paint & body shop, that my parents brought Cubby to visit frequently. Cubby struggled with our names, he could manage "Uncle K...." but just could not grasp "Auntie Dina", so he morphed it into "KiKi". Well, it stuck. I've been KiKi ever since and I love that my sweet little guy, whose nickname had been given to him by me had given me my own nickname.
Cubby is doing great now. He and his brother Draven are the best of friends. Draven may be 18 months younger but he's already bigger than Cubby. See, their Mom had been in state prison on another DUI for much of her pregnancy with Draven, so he is lucky not to have had the same Fetal-Alcohol Syndrome fate as his brother. I try to see them as much as I can and look forward to spending Christmas with them and the rest of my family.
So there you have it. That was the slightly unabridged version of the story of my name.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
My Kids
Kids? Since when does KiKi have kids, you say? I have 5 beautiful kids, 4 girls and 1 boy. Three live with me and my other 2 live with my ex-husband, as we share custody. My 3 girls with me are Biscuits, my beautiful 6 year old brindle American Staffordshire/Shepherd mix, Wingnut, my fluffy gold little 5 year old Shepherd/Golden/Chow mix and Shadybear, my adorable 9 year old brindle M
astiff/Boxer mix.
astiff/Boxer mix.
Me & Shadybear shortly after I adopted her--->
My 2 babies that live with my ex-husband are Chopper, a cuddly, white 5 1/2 year old American Bulldog/Boxer mix and Mr. Littles, a goofy, black 7 year old Lab/Doberman mix. It's so hard not having them with me everyday but I know their Daddie takes amazing care of them and loves them just as I do. He and I are great friends, (another story for another day), and I can see
them whenever I wish.
My ex, K, left this morning for California, where he will be visiting his family for the next 9 days. I will be taking care of Chopper & Mr. Littles while he's gone. Unfortunately, I cannot bring them to my home, so I will be going to see them twice a day. Luckily for me, K lives less than 10 minutes away, so it won't be a big deal to drive over there 2, sometimes 3 times a day. I am so excited that I will get to spend so much alone time with them, snuggling & playing just like old times. K and I haven't lived in the same house for over 3 years now, so the sting of not waking up with all my babies every morning isn't as bad as it once was. They are always so happy to see me, I get lots of kisses and butt wiggles when I come over.
All of our dogs are rescues. Biscuits came from The Humane Society, Chopper was a private adoption, Mr. Littles was rescued by a Police Officer friend of ours, from a homeless man who was swinging him around in a plastic shopping bag, Wingnut was a skinny, scrappy little 3 month old stray who found me and I rescued Shadybear from "Doggie Death Row" at a South Central Los Angeles animal shelter.
Shadybear has such a heartwarming story. I found out about her this past February in an email from a woman who is involved in dog rescues. Shadybear was given up, for unknown reasons to the shelter in L.A. 3 months earlier when she was 8 years old. This woman was desperately trying to find a home for her before she was PTS. (Put to sleep). In this email were 3 pictures of such a beautiful, sad, dejected little girl, that as soon as I saw her I knew she had to come home to me. This dedicated woman was able to put me in touch with another woman who lived in the Los Angeles area, who amazingly volunteered to pull Shadybear from the shelter and drive halfway to where I live. I was blown away by these 2 woman who were taking time out of their busy lives to help rescue a dog neither of them had ever actually met.
In the meantime, this same email went out to hundreds of animal rescue groups across the country and people were rallying, trying to find a way to save this one little girl. Donations came flooding in to the shelter, made to insure that she be kept alive long enough for her to find a home. The arrangements for me to get her took about 4 days and by the time she was pulled from the shelter, word had gotten around that Shadybear was going to a new home. The shelter received so many donations in her behalf, that they waived all adoption, vaccine and micro-chipping fees. The woman who pulled her was so touched by her story that she would not accept any money from me, not even for gas.
As soon as Shadybear and I got home, I promptly put her in the bathtub. She smelled so bad, poor thing. After I washed her and wrapped her in a towel, I took a real good look at her to evaluate her condition. She was skin-n-bones, had bed-sores on her bottom, a large mass on her belly and another one on her leg. She also had 2 smaller masses, 1 under each eye. My heart ached for her, that she had been so grossly neglected. I made an appointment to take her to the Vet for the next day.
The story gets longer from here but I'll shorten it and say, after 2 surgeries, (with many complications) and thousands of dollars, she is a firm member of my little family. She is amazingly smart, funny and affectionate and she is right where she belongs, with me and her 2 sisters. I knew what I was getting into by adopting a "Senior" dog and I'm okay with that. She has every right to live out her remaining years in a safe and loving home. I treasure every moment we have together and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.
My 3 girls are my best friends, without them I would not be complete. Their loyalty is fierce and their love, forever. Dogs rule.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Pain, Pain & More Pain
So yesterday I had an appointment with my Doctor at The Pain Management Clinic. In a previous post I wrote a little about what I have been going through with my back injury. To briefly re-cap; I have disc bulging in C6-C7, L4-L5 and L5-S1. No, I wasn't in a car accident, nor did I have a fall or any other such mishap. I've been a bartender off and on for over 20 years and the bending, lifting & repetitive motion finally got the best of me.
The main area of problem for me is my low back. I have been taking a pretty heavy dose of pain meds every four hours since April of this year. I have had 3 rounds of Facet Injections, 2 Epidurals and none of those injections has given me any relief. Yesterday I found out what's next.
I will be having a Provocative Discogram. Sounds kinda sexy, I know, but it's so NOT sexy. Basically, my Doctor will be inserting a rather large needle into my 2 bulging discs in my low back. Through this needle, I will be injected with a dye to determine if the layers of my discs are cracked. When disc layers are compromised, the soft protein-like jelly that makes up the core of the disc leaks out and the body attacks it as if it is a foreign material, thus causing pain and inflammation. I will be awake and alert during this procedure because the dye is supposed to "re-create" the pain and I need to be able to let my Doctor know if this is what is happening. I'm told it is an absolutely horrific experience. In my research, I have found that some patients who've had this done describe it as "barbaric." Cool, huh? I am not looking forward to it in the least but I know that it must be done to determine the next course of action.
If the Discogram is positive, I will then undergo the IDET procedure. The prospect of this happening is even scarier than the Discogram. The following was copied from a Spine Institute website;
"SpineCATH IDET Therapy is usually performed on an outpatient basis. Local anesthesia and mild sedation may be used to reduce discomfort during the procedure. You will be awake and alert so that you can provide important feedback to the physician. With the guidance of x-ray images, your physician will advance a needle into the disc. The SpineCATH catheter will be passed through the needle and into the disc.Once it is in the appropriate position, the temperature of the heating section of the catheter will be gradually increased, raising the disc wall temperature. During the heating protocol, your physician will monitor your condition and comfort level closely. You will most probably feel a reproduction of your usual lower back pain. This is a strong indication that the heat is being applied to the appropriate areas."
Oh my, oh my, oh my. The description is quite sterile, however in my research I've read patient descriptions of their own experiences and it's not pretty. On the one hand, I am terrified and on the other, I just want to do whatever it takes to get my life back.
I haven't made my appointment yet, as I am waiting for someone in Patient Services to call me back about the cost of these procedures. As I stated in an earlier post, I am un-insurable for my back, so all of my medical bills are totally out of pocket. I need to know ahead of time so I can get my finances in order in time. I could go on and on about my opinions about the health care crisis in the U.S., but I won't. I'm just so tired of it all.
Living with constant pain sucks, lemme tell ya. I try so hard to maintain my positive mind-set but some days it's just so hard to do. I'm only 41, I have so much living left to do.
The main area of problem for me is my low back. I have been taking a pretty heavy dose of pain meds every four hours since April of this year. I have had 3 rounds of Facet Injections, 2 Epidurals and none of those injections has given me any relief. Yesterday I found out what's next.
I will be having a Provocative Discogram. Sounds kinda sexy, I know, but it's so NOT sexy. Basically, my Doctor will be inserting a rather large needle into my 2 bulging discs in my low back. Through this needle, I will be injected with a dye to determine if the layers of my discs are cracked. When disc layers are compromised, the soft protein-like jelly that makes up the core of the disc leaks out and the body attacks it as if it is a foreign material, thus causing pain and inflammation. I will be awake and alert during this procedure because the dye is supposed to "re-create" the pain and I need to be able to let my Doctor know if this is what is happening. I'm told it is an absolutely horrific experience. In my research, I have found that some patients who've had this done describe it as "barbaric." Cool, huh? I am not looking forward to it in the least but I know that it must be done to determine the next course of action.
If the Discogram is positive, I will then undergo the IDET procedure. The prospect of this happening is even scarier than the Discogram. The following was copied from a Spine Institute website;
"SpineCATH IDET Therapy is usually performed on an outpatient basis. Local anesthesia and mild sedation may be used to reduce discomfort during the procedure. You will be awake and alert so that you can provide important feedback to the physician. With the guidance of x-ray images, your physician will advance a needle into the disc. The SpineCATH catheter will be passed through the needle and into the disc.Once it is in the appropriate position, the temperature of the heating section of the catheter will be gradually increased, raising the disc wall temperature. During the heating protocol, your physician will monitor your condition and comfort level closely. You will most probably feel a reproduction of your usual lower back pain. This is a strong indication that the heat is being applied to the appropriate areas."
Oh my, oh my, oh my. The description is quite sterile, however in my research I've read patient descriptions of their own experiences and it's not pretty. On the one hand, I am terrified and on the other, I just want to do whatever it takes to get my life back.
I haven't made my appointment yet, as I am waiting for someone in Patient Services to call me back about the cost of these procedures. As I stated in an earlier post, I am un-insurable for my back, so all of my medical bills are totally out of pocket. I need to know ahead of time so I can get my finances in order in time. I could go on and on about my opinions about the health care crisis in the U.S., but I won't. I'm just so tired of it all.
Living with constant pain sucks, lemme tell ya. I try so hard to maintain my positive mind-set but some days it's just so hard to do. I'm only 41, I have so much living left to do.
Hard Work, Pain & Stripper Drama
It is now the wee hours of Wednesday morning and I am still recovering from the weekend. Saturday night was our annual Winter Wonderland theme party and Sunday night was our staff Christmas party. Let's start with Saturday;
I work the day shift every Saturday. I arrive at the club at 11:00 am, one hour before we open. I do all my opening duties such as verifying the safe count, getting the till ready for the bar, etc., etc. Normal stuff to get us ready to open at Noon. On theme party days I also have to help with the decorations, (we go ALL out), work the phones to make sure we will have plenty of Entertainers, all while running the club and working the floor as usual. Saying it's a hectic day is a massive understatement. Normally, my day ends at shift change at 7:00 pm, when I close out my day bartender and count her till. Not on theme party days, and this Saturday was no different, with one exception.
I basically had to run the shift for the first two and a half hours of the party, because CeCe, the manager working the night shift, was dealing with a "situation" in the dressing room from 7:00-9:30. The "situation" has a name and her name is "Heather". "Heather" is a blonde, six foot tall, drop dead gorgeous, bi-polar Entertainer with a penchance for violence when she drinks. We've had "situations" with "Heather" in the past and she has continued to work for us on the contingency that she not consume any alcohol while in our building. The last time she drank, she threatened to choke out CeCe and CeCe had to hide in the office for an hour while the bouncers tried to get "Heather" out of the building. It wasn't pretty and it scared CeCe. CeCe is my best friend. She is a beautiful, smart and funny 33 year old woman and she has taught me so much over the years. She has worked for the owner of our club for over 13 years and she knows her shit, let me tell ya.
(That's CeCe on the left & me on the right, shortly before our "situation.")
Anyway, back to "Heather". I wanted to be the one to deal with "Heather" in the dressing room. Since CeCe was her target last time, I was worried that she would turn violent on her again. CeCe, being the caring friend that she is, wouldn't let me because of my back problems. She was worried that if "Heather" turned on me, she would injure me further and cause me to be in more pain than I already am. Bless her heart. I ran and got Gino*, my favorite muscle-bound bouncer, and told him to stand by and watch over CeCe from the door to the dressing room just in case things got bad.
I checked on CeCe frequently and every time I went into the dressing room, I saw that "Heather's" mental state was getting increasingly unstable. It took over 2 hours of CeCe constantly reassuring "Heather" that everything was fine, to get her dressed and out. At one point, I had to physically pry "Heather" off of CeCe because she was hugging her so tight that I thought CeCe was going to suffocate. Here's a visual for you; "Heather" is a six foot tall Nordic giant and CeCe is barely five foot two, on a good day. Not a fair match, not by a long shot.
It was when "Heather" was finally walking down the stairs from the dressing room that her internal switch finally flipped. "Get out of my way, bitch!!" When "Heather" yelled that at the top of her lungs, CeCe got the fuck out of her way. "Why are you always such a bitch, CeCe?! Why are you always so MEAN to me?!?!" At this point, CeCe ran outside to the parking lot to warn "Heather's" husband, who had been called to come get her. "Heather's" husband is a creepy little 50+ year old man. As soon as CeCe advised him of the "situation", he took off his glasses and said, "Oh no. Not again." I imagine he knew he was in for an ass-whipping when he got her home, since "Heather" was unable to vent her violent tendencies on CeCe.
In the meantime, I'm running all over the club, calling drink specials, getting change for the bartenders and cashiers, getting fresh bottles of liquor for the bar and generally putting out fires all over the place. Our theme parties are always a smashing success but damn, they are a lot of work. By the time CeCe was finished with "Heather", I was running on empty. I had been too busy to eat, too busy to take my pain medicine and my back was screaming in pain. I was supposed to be in charge of taking the pictures of Santa posing with the customers & their favorite Entertainer. I couldn't even do that. Put a fork in me, 'cause I was DONE. Luckily, it was about this time that our owner showed up and he told me to go ahead and take off. He also told me that I needed to open up the club at 1:00 pm the next day. What?? I ALWAYS have the day off on the day of our staff Christmas party. Not this year. He did not arrange to have an acting manager for the day and as Sundays are my shift, I was the one to do it. Sunday was going to be a looooong day.
I spent Sunday doing all my usual stuff, in addition to taking care of all the finishing details for that evening's party. Normally, we have our staff party at a beautiful restaurant that our owner's good friend owns. Not this year. This year the party was held at the club. Not in the strip club part of the building, but the other half of the building which used to be a regular night-club. We rent out that side to a group of swingers for private parties, but that's a story for another day. It's a huge, beautifully decorated club with a dance floor right out of "Saturday Night Fever." Washing glassware, pulling liquor for the bar, blowing up dozens of balloons with our helium tank, etc.,etc.,etc. By the time 7:00 pm rolled around, I was in more pain than I had felt for months. It was bad. Really, really bad. I'm not a complainer, not by a long shot. In fact, most of the time people have no idea how bad I really feel most of the time. I've gotten very good at hiding it and appearing to be just like everyone else. Sunday night I could not hide it. At one point, early in the evening when my G.M. asked me if I was okay, I started crying because I was so far from okay that it wasn't even funny. I was able to compose myself and put on a happy face in no time. I smiled for all the pictures, hugged everyone and behaved as if everything was hunky-dory. If you or anyone you know deals with chronic debilitating pain, you know how hard it is to do that.
The drama began when our owner began an award's presentation that none of us managers knew he was going to do. He presented beautiful etched glass awards to all of us on the management team, our House Mom and the hardest working Entertainer. All the while, during his speeches, one of the Entertainers, (drunk, of course), became increasingly louder and more obnoxious. She even had the audacity to go up to the platform where he was speaking and interrupt the speech he was giving about our House Mom, June Bug. The last award given was to "The Hardest Working Woman in Show Business." It was an award given in honor of one of his dear friends who passed away three days after our party last year. His friend was the "hardest working man" he had ever known. He was an amazing man and this first annual award in his name was mighty special. "Lyrics" won this award and from there the drama ensued.
Another Entertainer "Nevaeh", (yes, it's heaven spelled backwards. Tacky, I know), the same one who disrupted the award's ceremony, felt that she should have been the recipient of this award and promptly let "Lyrics" know exactly how she felt. CeCe arrived where they were, just in time to thwart an all out punch-fest between the two girls. Insults, threats and expletives flying, "Nevaeh" was quickly escorted out the door. She continued to rage in the parking lot for another hour or so and none of us escaped her vicious tongue. All of us on the management team were highly dissapointed, as we had just given her an award of our own; a beautful engraved lucite Christmas ornament, with her name and "Loyalty & Highest Attendance." Loyalty, my ass. She was an ungrateful little bitch that just couldn't stand it that she was not the center of attention and adoration. Good riddance, as far as I'm concerned. CeCe texted me a little while ago, saying that "Neveah" was supposedly going in to work tonight. I feel bad for CeCe that she's going to have to deal with that drama tornado, but I'm glad it's not on my shift. At this writing, I have not heard back from CeCe if she actually showed up. "Lyrics" worked my shift last night and I assured her that she was more than deserving of the award. I felt bad for her that what should have been a very special night was ruined by a woman who used to be her friend.
I wanted so badly to be able to just cut loose and have a good time but I was in too much pain to enjoy the party. I didn't even have a drink, afraid of how it would mix with the high dose of pain meds that I have to take regularly. All in all, the weekend was a success for the club, but a personal dissapointment for me. I am glad it's over and will be even gladder when the Holidays are finally past us. Like I said in an earlier post; I'm feeling a bit like Scrooge this year. But hey, tomorrow is another day, right?
*Some names have been changed to protect the innocent, who have no idea I'm writing this & Entertainer stage names are in "quotations"
Friday, December 14, 2007
Party Time
Every Thursday at 7 pm I have to go in to work for our weekly Manager Meeting. Thursday just happens to be one of my days off, so it's kind of a bummer that I have to go in. The meetings can last anywhere from 1 hour to 3 hours, depending on what's been happening or if we have upcoming events.
<---One of my favorite pictures of the party. That's me on the right with my favorite bartender (she was absolutely, totally wasted) and our G.M. hovering in the back.
Yesterday's meeting was about 2 hours. We were discussing our Winter Wonderland theme party that's happening this Saturday night. A strip club having theme parties? Yep, every 6 weeks we have one. They are a lot of fun, as we go all out on decorations and costumes. Our parties are standing room only and money flows like cold beer from a freshly tapped keg. Luckily for us, our staff and Entertainers get into it as much as we do. Everyone wants to be scheduled for that shift, they will even bribe each other to trade shifts if they weren't fortunate enough to be scheduled.
Winter Wonderland is no exception. We will be wall to wall with sexy Santa's Helpers, Snow Bunnies, scantily clad Angels, Erotic Elves and even Santa himself will make an appearance. Okay, so maybe he's not the "real" Santa but a fat guy named Bert who we are paying with an unlimited beer tab at the bar. We call him "Nasty Santa." We still have a picture of him on the wall in our office from last year when he was posing for pictures with the girls, he had a cigarette in one hand and a Bud Light in the other. Bert is a good guy, he's the lonely, perpetually single, best friend of one of our D.J.'s.
I haven't decided yet what I am going to wear. Theme party days are tough on me, as I will be there for a double shift. I open the club at 11 am and won't get out the door until the end of the "day" at 3 am. Usually, I have to turn around and do a double the following day, as our parties always fall on Saturdays. Every Sunday I am the opening/closing Manager, working a 16 hour shift. Luckily, our staff Christmas party is always the day after our Winter Wonderland party and our owner brings people in from his other club to run the place so we can all attend the party.
The man who owns the club is truly a joy to work for. He's down to earth, funny, a genius in business and extremely genrerous. If you were to meet him, you'd never guess that he owned a strip club. We all love him and that's strong motivation to always make each shift better than the one before. His Christmas bonus checks rock, let me tell ya.
Here's a few pictures from last year's staff party;
<--That's me in the middle, after several Jager shots.
The drunk guy with the tie on his head? That's our G.M. with one of our bartenders, D.J.'s and our former Champagne Hostess.
<---One of my favorite pictures of the party. That's me on the right with my favorite bartender (she was absolutely, totally wasted) and our G.M. hovering in the back. It's going to be tough to beat last year's party, but we're sure as hell going to try.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Tis The Season....
There are a great many lonely people and it's never more evident than during the Holidays. So many people with no families, no where to go to stave off the loneliness during the season when focus is on family and loved ones. Everywhere you go there are Christmas Carols blaring, lights blinking, shoppers bustling, reminding us that this is a special time of year.
I live in a world that caters to the lonely, to the lost. Don't get me wrong, I know there are countless souls that are not only lonely, they have nothing to eat and no where to live. That's another world entirely. I'm talking about the men and women who have a place to live, food on their tables, a weekly paycheck and no one to share it with.
The men come in looking for that intangible. The fantasy of having beautiful young women vying for their attention. They can escape, even if only for a short time, the emptiness they feel especially this time of year. They come alone hoping that maybe, just maybe, they will find a real woman who can see just how special they are. They are easily swayed by the hustle and they believe this pretty young thing has eyes only for them. As she puts her hand on his leg and looks deeply into his eyes, he believes. His head in the clouds and his blood is pumping with alcohol and anticipation of.....of what? Taking this girl to the nearest hotel? Probably. Love? Possibly. He fools himself into thinking that what is happening is real, as she escorts him to the ATM. He gives her whatever she wants and she'll take it all without batting an eye.
I live in a world that caters to the lonely, to the lost. Don't get me wrong, I know there are countless souls that are not only lonely, they have nothing to eat and no where to live. That's another world entirely. I'm talking about the men and women who have a place to live, food on their tables, a weekly paycheck and no one to share it with.
The men come in looking for that intangible. The fantasy of having beautiful young women vying for their attention. They can escape, even if only for a short time, the emptiness they feel especially this time of year. They come alone hoping that maybe, just maybe, they will find a real woman who can see just how special they are. They are easily swayed by the hustle and they believe this pretty young thing has eyes only for them. As she puts her hand on his leg and looks deeply into his eyes, he believes. His head in the clouds and his blood is pumping with alcohol and anticipation of.....of what? Taking this girl to the nearest hotel? Probably. Love? Possibly. He fools himself into thinking that what is happening is real, as she escorts him to the ATM. He gives her whatever she wants and she'll take it all without batting an eye.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Off Topic
This post has absolutely nothing to do with My Life in a Strip Club.
When I finally got home after working 16 hours on Sunday, I decided to wind down by perusing YouTube. I stumbled across a large number of videos with SSBBW in the title. Now, I know what BBW stands for but I had never seen SS in front of it. So I clicked. Two hours and countless videos later, I was still clicking. I could not stop watching.
There is an entire underground society dedicated to women (and men) who deliberately gain weight for the purpose of sexual gratification. They eat on camera. They indulge in "belly play". They show off every nook and cranny, giving "tours" of their bodies. I consider myself fairly well versed in sexual fetishes but this was a new one for me. Why on earth would any self-respecting human being deliberatly gorge themselves like this? I say "self-respecting" because most of these "gainers" speak of loving themselves and their bodies. I'm all for people loving themselves just the way they are, even if they don't fit into what society deems acceptable. But to destroy their bodies in this fashion on purpose? That, in no way can be considered self- respect.
Having said all that, I could not stop clicking. Video after video, I watched with open mouth and unblinking eyes, speaking aloud to myself, "WTF??" It takes a lot to shock me nowadays. This shocked me beyond words. Yet still, I could not tear my eyes away from my computer screen. I was having a classic "trainwreck" reaction. I was horrified and compelled and I could not stop.
Finally, tearing my eyes away from the screen, I saw that my three dogs were staring at me with pleading eyes, "Mommie, can we please go to bed now?" It was almost 7:00 am and the sun was peeking through my windows. I actually had to speak out loud to myself, "Enough. Turn it off and go to bed. Now."
By the time I made my way to my bed, I had already inspected every inch of my own body to insure that I, in no way, resembled any of the women whose videos I had watched. I was terrified that I would have a sudden onset of Body Dysmorphic Disorder. The inspection took several minutes, as I just could not get the YouTube images out of my head. Everything turned out alright in the end. I did indeed look exactly as I thought I did. Whew.
When I got to work yesterday, I felt the need to share my YouTube experience with a couple of my bartenders. They laughed, acted horrified, asked questions and I know for a fact that they would go home later that night and search YouTube to see for themselves.
Watch, if you dare.....you may not be able to turn away.
When I finally got home after working 16 hours on Sunday, I decided to wind down by perusing YouTube. I stumbled across a large number of videos with SSBBW in the title. Now, I know what BBW stands for but I had never seen SS in front of it. So I clicked. Two hours and countless videos later, I was still clicking. I could not stop watching.
There is an entire underground society dedicated to women (and men) who deliberately gain weight for the purpose of sexual gratification. They eat on camera. They indulge in "belly play". They show off every nook and cranny, giving "tours" of their bodies. I consider myself fairly well versed in sexual fetishes but this was a new one for me. Why on earth would any self-respecting human being deliberatly gorge themselves like this? I say "self-respecting" because most of these "gainers" speak of loving themselves and their bodies. I'm all for people loving themselves just the way they are, even if they don't fit into what society deems acceptable. But to destroy their bodies in this fashion on purpose? That, in no way can be considered self- respect.
Having said all that, I could not stop clicking. Video after video, I watched with open mouth and unblinking eyes, speaking aloud to myself, "WTF??" It takes a lot to shock me nowadays. This shocked me beyond words. Yet still, I could not tear my eyes away from my computer screen. I was having a classic "trainwreck" reaction. I was horrified and compelled and I could not stop.
Finally, tearing my eyes away from the screen, I saw that my three dogs were staring at me with pleading eyes, "Mommie, can we please go to bed now?" It was almost 7:00 am and the sun was peeking through my windows. I actually had to speak out loud to myself, "Enough. Turn it off and go to bed. Now."
By the time I made my way to my bed, I had already inspected every inch of my own body to insure that I, in no way, resembled any of the women whose videos I had watched. I was terrified that I would have a sudden onset of Body Dysmorphic Disorder. The inspection took several minutes, as I just could not get the YouTube images out of my head. Everything turned out alright in the end. I did indeed look exactly as I thought I did. Whew.
When I got to work yesterday, I felt the need to share my YouTube experience with a couple of my bartenders. They laughed, acted horrified, asked questions and I know for a fact that they would go home later that night and search YouTube to see for themselves.
Watch, if you dare.....you may not be able to turn away.
Poor Little Pet Blog
I don't have any stories today. However, I feel as though I am neglecting my little Pet Blog. I meant for this to be a day to day account of my life working in an industry that most of society shuns, but some days I just need to leave it all at the door. Today is definitely one of those days. I go through the motions of closing down the club, count the money, spin the locks on the safe and lock the door. I say my good-byes to the staff and leave it all behind, locked up in a soul-less building.
I leave behind the ghosts of drunks, the pungent odor of layers of spilled beer, the grime of money and the desperation of women just trying to get by. As I get into my car and drive away, I have already closed the door in my mind and begin thinking of sweeter things, of more innocent times.
I leave behind the ghosts of drunks, the pungent odor of layers of spilled beer, the grime of money and the desperation of women just trying to get by. As I get into my car and drive away, I have already closed the door in my mind and begin thinking of sweeter things, of more innocent times.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Little Miss Know-it-All
The Christmas Season is upon us and I'm feeling like Scrooge. I have so much going on right now and none of it is very good. I've always thought of myself as a fairly positive person. I still am, however this season, this year, I wish I could just crawl under the covers and stay there until after the Holidays are over.
I won't go into all the gory little details but suffice to say, I'm a not-so-happy-camper these days. It's hard enough to have my own little dramas going on, but then when I am at work, the girls bring all their dramas to me. They are Emotional Vampires and some days they suck the life out of me. Especially this time of year.
In this business there is always money. Even when the economy is at it's worst. Guys come to The Strip Club to escape their lives, job, wives & girlfriends. They spend too much money and some spend money they don't even have. The girls that dance/tend bar/waitress have the ability to make cash hand over fist on a daily basis. Unfortunately, most are too young to handle it. They spend their money on free-loading men, alcohol and drugs. They just don't get it that they could be set for life if only they handled their lives and money with care.
It makes me sad.
Watching some of these girls waste their lives away in a downward spiral of drugs, alcohol and abusive men can be heart-breaking. I am able to distance myself emotionally to a certain extent but some days it really gets under my skin. I just want to shake them and say, "Open your eyes!! Look what you are doing to yourself!!" Young women are stubborn creatures, this I know. I once was one. I remember that feeling of invincibility and feeling that I knew everything. When someone would say to me, "Learn from my mistakes.", I would always think I was smarter....that I wasn't going to make any bone-head mistakes. Well, I was wrong, as most young women are. It's funny, the older I got, the more I realized that I wasn't nearly as smart as I thought I was.
So now I find myself telling young women to learn from my mistakes. Ha. I am face to face with the ghost of my former self.
I know I am rambling a bit. My mind is swirling with a multitude of moral dilemmas. Am I perpetuating an unhealthy lifestyle by working in this industry? Should I be trying harder to "save" these souls? There are some that I encourage to get out of this business....should I encourage ALL of them? I could go on and on with questions to myself and forever searching for the answers. I know there are a few that I have helped but it will never be enough.
On days like today, I just want to give up. Throw in the towel. Hand in my keys and walk away. But still, deep down, I know that I am right where I am supposed to be. The light is dim at the moment, but I know it's there. I just wish I could fast-forward to January. Everything is too raw this time of year.
I won't go into all the gory little details but suffice to say, I'm a not-so-happy-camper these days. It's hard enough to have my own little dramas going on, but then when I am at work, the girls bring all their dramas to me. They are Emotional Vampires and some days they suck the life out of me. Especially this time of year.
In this business there is always money. Even when the economy is at it's worst. Guys come to The Strip Club to escape their lives, job, wives & girlfriends. They spend too much money and some spend money they don't even have. The girls that dance/tend bar/waitress have the ability to make cash hand over fist on a daily basis. Unfortunately, most are too young to handle it. They spend their money on free-loading men, alcohol and drugs. They just don't get it that they could be set for life if only they handled their lives and money with care.
It makes me sad.
Watching some of these girls waste their lives away in a downward spiral of drugs, alcohol and abusive men can be heart-breaking. I am able to distance myself emotionally to a certain extent but some days it really gets under my skin. I just want to shake them and say, "Open your eyes!! Look what you are doing to yourself!!" Young women are stubborn creatures, this I know. I once was one. I remember that feeling of invincibility and feeling that I knew everything. When someone would say to me, "Learn from my mistakes.", I would always think I was smarter....that I wasn't going to make any bone-head mistakes. Well, I was wrong, as most young women are. It's funny, the older I got, the more I realized that I wasn't nearly as smart as I thought I was.
So now I find myself telling young women to learn from my mistakes. Ha. I am face to face with the ghost of my former self.
I know I am rambling a bit. My mind is swirling with a multitude of moral dilemmas. Am I perpetuating an unhealthy lifestyle by working in this industry? Should I be trying harder to "save" these souls? There are some that I encourage to get out of this business....should I encourage ALL of them? I could go on and on with questions to myself and forever searching for the answers. I know there are a few that I have helped but it will never be enough.
On days like today, I just want to give up. Throw in the towel. Hand in my keys and walk away. But still, deep down, I know that I am right where I am supposed to be. The light is dim at the moment, but I know it's there. I just wish I could fast-forward to January. Everything is too raw this time of year.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
