that was a good idea. obviously. to work i mean. i'm so tired but, i made some money, vinnie made me laugh, and i actually got along great with the girls tonight. don't know what it was. it was just kinda easy tonight. laid back.
oh and lena's not doing it anymore. i'm glad. i'm a solo artist.
i think about going and working at the crazy horse a couple nights a week sometimes... i know i can make a shit ton more money there... i just don't think they'd let me have a random ass schedule like at the spearmint... i'd probably have to work there on a regular schedule, at least 3x a week, and it's not that close to my place...
sigh. i REALLY need to get the thigh high boots already. i keep being cheap/lazy and putting it off. it's just you get bruises on your legs hoisting up the pole. it's the only way. a lot of the girls don't climb all the way to the top, and some just wear thigh high striped socks or something. but otherwise, i'm sick of having bruises on my legs.
whatever. i have so much to do as usual i made a to-do list and it makes me wanna sob.
that's it. i'm home. i'm tired. i wanna work tomorrow again instead of all this other crap.
it's all i wanna do.
Showing posts with label stripper shoes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stripper shoes. Show all posts
Friday, July 30, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
Armotrash
Working at night like this... Just makes me feel utterly worthless during the days. I don't wanna do anything. But eat and sleep.
Turns out, again, the trip is way more f'ing expensive than I thought it was. Again, Elena told me some more inaccurate stuff, like, that she had frequent flier miles I can use, whatever, I'm not gonna bitch... But I had a panic attack yesterday...
I went out with some Armotrash mobsterpunks after work to get food. They are so uncouth. And what is it about these Eastern bloc gangsters, where it's always ONE cute, smart one who's like really witty and sexy and cultured in a swiss cheesical kinda way with lots of holes in his knowledge base, surrounded by a bunch of blankeyed neckless cavemen?? I mean I know it's like a power/selfesteem issue, THEY want to be the smart one who can smoothtalk when they have to and guffaw the rest of the time, but with Italian mobsterpunks it's usually a group of predominantly smart and funny, with one token meathead, not the other way around.
Varan fell in love when I came down and sat at their table eating a lollipop and he says to me, with the two no-english-speakin' lugs watching, Oh, just keep eating your lollipop. No, in a sexual way. No, this is not sexual...
And I chomped down on it, shattering little pieces of lollipop everywhere, and started giggling.
And it took him a minute to realize I was being a smartass myself.
A little piece of blue tootsie pop landed near his crotch, and he motioned that I should lick it, and said "Can you clean this up now please?" And I raised my foot up between his legs, just hovering the tip of my eight inch heel right over his private parts, and, said, real dumb-like, "Oh SURE! Let me just wipe it right off I'm sorry!!" And then made like a stabbing motion downward stopping just short....
He wiped the seat himself and was totally enchanted...
He was making me laugh, too, with his stupid crude Armotrash jokes about everyone in the club... These mobsterpunks just really love making fun of everyone, it's a total universal, he's just like Stefan but from slightly further south. And this is the third gang of Eastern Euro disorganized criminals I've won over in that damn club. And they're assholes to everyone.
Star came over and asked one of the meatheads if he wanted a dance and he said "Sorry you are too heavy for me." And she looked over at me, and I was sitting with Varan, and I could just shake my head and not really say anything else, which kind of was a shitty feeling. But that's how it is...
We went to get food after the shift, and I literally walked out on them. They didn't even do anything, I'd just had it, after they missed a turn for the 9th time, and didn't listen, and couldn't find anything open, and kept rolling down the window to shout out or spit at people. And were probably talking some trash about me in that bizarre language.
We pulled up in front of a Subway--- yeah, the FAST FOOD chain--- and got out and they were communing about something and I was standing there saying to Varan, for like the tenth time, Look, I really have to go, I'm tired, and he kept saying, Baby! Come on! Relax! You were hungry! and he gave me his Coke to drink and I kept trying to give it back to him, and just wouldn't take it, so I put it down on the curb, and said, Hey. I'm going. And turned around and said Dasvodanya and literally walked home.
They pulled up to me after like five minutes and stopped and V opened the door and said, Scarlet come on get in! And I said, WHERE. Are we going. And he said home, home, and I heard him tell the two goons in the front my cross streets so I got in and they drove me home. But I would've walked. It wasn't that far.
Turns out, again, the trip is way more f'ing expensive than I thought it was. Again, Elena told me some more inaccurate stuff, like, that she had frequent flier miles I can use, whatever, I'm not gonna bitch... But I had a panic attack yesterday...
I went out with some Armotrash mobsterpunks after work to get food. They are so uncouth. And what is it about these Eastern bloc gangsters, where it's always ONE cute, smart one who's like really witty and sexy and cultured in a swiss cheesical kinda way with lots of holes in his knowledge base, surrounded by a bunch of blankeyed neckless cavemen?? I mean I know it's like a power/selfesteem issue, THEY want to be the smart one who can smoothtalk when they have to and guffaw the rest of the time, but with Italian mobsterpunks it's usually a group of predominantly smart and funny, with one token meathead, not the other way around.
Varan fell in love when I came down and sat at their table eating a lollipop and he says to me, with the two no-english-speakin' lugs watching, Oh, just keep eating your lollipop. No, in a sexual way. No, this is not sexual...
And I chomped down on it, shattering little pieces of lollipop everywhere, and started giggling.
And it took him a minute to realize I was being a smartass myself.
A little piece of blue tootsie pop landed near his crotch, and he motioned that I should lick it, and said "Can you clean this up now please?" And I raised my foot up between his legs, just hovering the tip of my eight inch heel right over his private parts, and, said, real dumb-like, "Oh SURE! Let me just wipe it right off I'm sorry!!" And then made like a stabbing motion downward stopping just short....
He wiped the seat himself and was totally enchanted...
He was making me laugh, too, with his stupid crude Armotrash jokes about everyone in the club... These mobsterpunks just really love making fun of everyone, it's a total universal, he's just like Stefan but from slightly further south. And this is the third gang of Eastern Euro disorganized criminals I've won over in that damn club. And they're assholes to everyone.
Star came over and asked one of the meatheads if he wanted a dance and he said "Sorry you are too heavy for me." And she looked over at me, and I was sitting with Varan, and I could just shake my head and not really say anything else, which kind of was a shitty feeling. But that's how it is...
We went to get food after the shift, and I literally walked out on them. They didn't even do anything, I'd just had it, after they missed a turn for the 9th time, and didn't listen, and couldn't find anything open, and kept rolling down the window to shout out or spit at people. And were probably talking some trash about me in that bizarre language.
We pulled up in front of a Subway--- yeah, the FAST FOOD chain--- and got out and they were communing about something and I was standing there saying to Varan, for like the tenth time, Look, I really have to go, I'm tired, and he kept saying, Baby! Come on! Relax! You were hungry! and he gave me his Coke to drink and I kept trying to give it back to him, and just wouldn't take it, so I put it down on the curb, and said, Hey. I'm going. And turned around and said Dasvodanya and literally walked home.
They pulled up to me after like five minutes and stopped and V opened the door and said, Scarlet come on get in! And I said, WHERE. Are we going. And he said home, home, and I heard him tell the two goons in the front my cross streets so I got in and they drove me home. But I would've walked. It wasn't that far.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
2:15 to Yuma
2 hours and this day, this 3 days, this little chapter, will be over too. I'm at work, 99 kinds of overit as usual, making decent money but feeling fat as a house, sluggish, depressed, depressed... I haven't been at a computer in ages. These last 80 hours, these last 80 hours since Julian to be honest, have been the slowest hell. I spent all weekend waiting to just get home, and then, hour at the airport, 2.5 hrs on the plane, hour at the other airport, hour on the other plane, half hour on the bus, half hour on the train, stuffing my face and lugging my shit te whole way through, reading a vampire romance novel for teenagers, finally got home prepared to crash out in solitude since I'd told everyone I was gonna be back a day later, and Vinnie called me in to work and I just went, to do a favor, and here I am, and I can barely keep my eyes open and my shoes are broken and my stockings keep falling down, and I'm bloated.
...And furthermore, I'm depressed. Though being here, is kind of helping... It would if I weren't so damn sluggish, but I am. Lethargic in the way only a depressive can be... But man. I really am glad to be home. I really am.
...And furthermore, I'm depressed. Though being here, is kind of helping... It would if I weren't so damn sluggish, but I am. Lethargic in the way only a depressive can be... But man. I really am glad to be home. I really am.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Three Martini-Lunch
I really should NAE be blogging. I should close my eyes, like they were on their own an hour ago, and f#$*ing go to sleep for once. But. In brief. (My idea of brief.)
Slept about four hours. Had to call in a radio show in the morning ("morning") to yap about myself since they were playing my stuff.
Ran six miles, to the hooker store, to buy my new shoes (CHOICE) and some outfits for work.
Took the bus back. Had a show at a hipster club, thought I had to be there at quarter to eight, in fact had to be there a half hour before that, thought they had a piano, in fact I had to bring my KK, don't have a case... Had to leave the second I got home, unshowered (two days, after a six mile run) or dressed or made-up, unpracticed, unprepared to drag KK and its accoutrements ANYWHERE... I had, for some reason, kept the cardboard Yamaha box he came in, so I stuff him and his stand in there, and the sustain pedal and a/c cables, and dumped my new shoes and clothes in to my huge stripper sack, and lugged the lot of it downstairs toward my car. The thing is like a 2x4 and everything probably weighed 100 pounds together, and a dude stopped up near me and offered me a ride to my car, thank god, he was a keyboardist too... So I got to my car, sped like a maniac to the Strip, couldn't find a spot to save my life, ran in, the weight of the world under my arm and probably my eyes, and- BLOODY HELL. My adapter and pedal were no.where. NO.WHERE.
BLOODYBLOODYBLOODYMARYHELL.
I even drove back and looked between my front door and where the guy stopped, not there, I only pray it fell out of the cardboard contraption in his car... If not it means they were picked up off the ground within like a half an hour... which seems unlikely... and if anyone is like, This girl is STUPID, letting strange men pick her up, etc, well, yeah, it might sound that way but I've always been trusting in that regard and it's never (knock on wood) failed me. He wouldn'tve stolen the stuff, it's pretty much worthless, except to me, on a night of a show, when no one else had a piano. We hadn't exchanged numbers but I gave him my card and prayed he'd call or e-mail at some point while I sat there, having found them, and bring them by. But alas. But I ended up talking to this guitarist and taught him the chords to one, one and a half-ish songs, and he was awesome... And... I was kind of nervous about this place, or would have been if I weren't so harebrained, and it ended up being REEEEALLY unimpressive. All the shows I've played here have been... to tell the truth... I dunno... Haven't done that many.
Anyway. I drove right to work from there though Carlos (the guitar player) invited me to come play another club, but I need the damn money so I can buy another ac and sustain tomorrow (ugh) and after the clothes today, and I realized, I can come in at 11 if I want. Really. I won't, cuz that's a jerky move, but I truly could. And I actually was really in the mood to, with all my new gear. And it was so fun dancing and actually being able to dance now that my shoes aren't hanging on my feet by a millimeter of clear plastic, and totally treadworn threatening to flip me on my ass every step... And I made a ton of money. Stupid ton. I've made a ton every night I've gone in this month. I just haven't gone in that many... I think that's part of it...
And I probably drank 6 vodkas in 2 hour, and then went to the diner with a fancy namedropping dude who invited me, and ate like a pig, and my eyes started to close. Here I am. Going to sleep. NOW.
Love and ladies of the night,
Scarlet-O
Slept about four hours. Had to call in a radio show in the morning ("morning") to yap about myself since they were playing my stuff.
Ran six miles, to the hooker store, to buy my new shoes (CHOICE) and some outfits for work.
Took the bus back. Had a show at a hipster club, thought I had to be there at quarter to eight, in fact had to be there a half hour before that, thought they had a piano, in fact I had to bring my KK, don't have a case... Had to leave the second I got home, unshowered (two days, after a six mile run) or dressed or made-up, unpracticed, unprepared to drag KK and its accoutrements ANYWHERE... I had, for some reason, kept the cardboard Yamaha box he came in, so I stuff him and his stand in there, and the sustain pedal and a/c cables, and dumped my new shoes and clothes in to my huge stripper sack, and lugged the lot of it downstairs toward my car. The thing is like a 2x4 and everything probably weighed 100 pounds together, and a dude stopped up near me and offered me a ride to my car, thank god, he was a keyboardist too... So I got to my car, sped like a maniac to the Strip, couldn't find a spot to save my life, ran in, the weight of the world under my arm and probably my eyes, and- BLOODY HELL. My adapter and pedal were no.where. NO.WHERE.
BLOODYBLOODYBLOODYMARYHELL.
I even drove back and looked between my front door and where the guy stopped, not there, I only pray it fell out of the cardboard contraption in his car... If not it means they were picked up off the ground within like a half an hour... which seems unlikely... and if anyone is like, This girl is STUPID, letting strange men pick her up, etc, well, yeah, it might sound that way but I've always been trusting in that regard and it's never (knock on wood) failed me. He wouldn'tve stolen the stuff, it's pretty much worthless, except to me, on a night of a show, when no one else had a piano. We hadn't exchanged numbers but I gave him my card and prayed he'd call or e-mail at some point while I sat there, having found them, and bring them by. But alas. But I ended up talking to this guitarist and taught him the chords to one, one and a half-ish songs, and he was awesome... And... I was kind of nervous about this place, or would have been if I weren't so harebrained, and it ended up being REEEEALLY unimpressive. All the shows I've played here have been... to tell the truth... I dunno... Haven't done that many.
Anyway. I drove right to work from there though Carlos (the guitar player) invited me to come play another club, but I need the damn money so I can buy another ac and sustain tomorrow (ugh) and after the clothes today, and I realized, I can come in at 11 if I want. Really. I won't, cuz that's a jerky move, but I truly could. And I actually was really in the mood to, with all my new gear. And it was so fun dancing and actually being able to dance now that my shoes aren't hanging on my feet by a millimeter of clear plastic, and totally treadworn threatening to flip me on my ass every step... And I made a ton of money. Stupid ton. I've made a ton every night I've gone in this month. I just haven't gone in that many... I think that's part of it...
And I probably drank 6 vodkas in 2 hour, and then went to the diner with a fancy namedropping dude who invited me, and ate like a pig, and my eyes started to close. Here I am. Going to sleep. NOW.
Love and ladies of the night,
Scarlet-O
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