"If You're not Sucking my Pussy..."

This new club is amazing. For those of you who lost sleep over whether or not I'd get put on the schedule, per my last post, you may set the Ambien aside - I did. In fact, the manager called me the very next day to find out if I could cover for a few girls who called out sick. I almost said no because I had to pick my man piece up at the airport that night, but when I started to say I was too busy, this guy actually said to me, "oh...party foul." I mean, who can turn that down?

I only worked for three hours my first shift. The place is a fucking D to the I to the V to the E. No DJ, to begin with. Just a jukebox, which is sort of cool for the kitsch factor, I guess, but it stops being quite so cool a few sets in when you realize you've played all five of the good songs already. I did have the opportunity to dance to Warrant's "Cherry Pie," though, thanks to that jukebox, which I think the 13-year-old me would have been particularly proud of.

It's also the kind of club that keeps the lights on during the day, the better to use the pool tables and dart boards. The carpet is green, the ceiling to the stage is so low that you very seriously risk your life if you attempt a pole trick, and - the piece de resistance - there's a toilet smack in the middle of the dressing room. Just right out there, just a toilet right in the fucking middle of the room. I have no idea if it functions or not.

Anyway, an hour or so before I was going to leave, this girl comes in to start her shift. She's got short, bobbed hair and tattoos all over. She comes in yelling, screaming across the room to girls and to the five customers sitting at the bar who I assume were all regulars. After she gets dressed and does her first stage set, she walks back over to the bar.

"Hi Mike!" She's talking to one of the five guys, all dressed in work t-shirts, drinking beers and looking like they've spent the past twenty years of their lives standing outside in the California sunshine and have never bothered with something as bougie as SPF.

Mike mumbles something to her drunkenly, which I can't quite make out, but can pretty much fill in the blanks by the following: she gets up, angrily walks towards the dressing room, then turns around and yells back, "If you're not sucking my pussy, I'm not buying you a beer!!"

The only problem here is that the place is far away. I'm not sure how long I'll stay...but in the meantime, it's fucking awesome.