Friday 1/15/10

I’m in the Big Easy again to dance. Didn't get any real sleep.Woke up at 5am for 7am flight out then went straight to Bourbon Street to work at Larry Flynt’s club, Penthouse: by far the most swank club in the quarter.  Lanterns, three stages, two bars, Penthouse suites that go for over $500 an hour. I got hired cause I have an “in” with the house mom. When I got on the floor, there were groups of guys at tables, not very welcoming.  The key is to break through, penetrate the circle, but tonight my game was shaky because I was so tired and the guys in groups are more interested in posturing for each other than getting dances. They're busy pretending they don't want us. Towards midnight I’d cleared about three hundred bucks.

The tables were full of drunk convention guys from Texas and bachelor parties. Kid stuff. Penthouse girls do the Vegas thing: Lots of fake tans and bleach.

I have to cover my tattoos at Penthouse, which is stupid because the guys love my tats. They always ask to see them.  It works for me to be niche girl, but this is the South so to management, tats just read “trashy biker.”

My thing is to find a guy who’s alone and talk a while, get the stories rolling before he gets blown out and distracted by the onslaught of the crowd, the girls and the smoke. The problem is I was so tired my head’s in five other places, still, I made conversation. Stick to them like gum. Lots of eye contact, big warm smile. Cliché redhead jokes. Buzzed on an energy drink that tastes like carbonated baby aspirin,  friend Morgan lead me tothis customer/friend of hers. Local girls have a harder time because when clients become friends, they don’t buy dances from you anymore.  The mystique is gone like you’re their wife or their wife’s hot friend. The guy was very cool, young-ish and gave me two bennies for 40 minutes. It’s a topless dance situation in a private room upstairs with curtains and couches-the whole nine. I lucked out, the guy was easy to read and didn’t have much to say so I walked with about $400 and bowed out early. My goal is always 1K. I won't quit till I make it.

Sat 1/16/10 Tonight it’s the big Saints game so I’m headedto Visions: Where the Locals Go.

It's Pissing rain and cold but the city's hopping cause the Saints are playing the Cardinals. I cabbed to Visions. I like to get there early and clear a couple greenbacks by the time the night girls roll in. You’d never find Visions if you weren’t in the know. It’s my little gem in East NOLA by the railroad tracks.  Local girls don’t welcome outsiders, but I slid in last May and they warmed up to me. They didn't wanna hire me. I didn’t take “No” for an answer and kept my head down and always tipped out my manager on the sly. Now I walk in whenever and it’s all the same friendly faces. I love the DJ’s Tony and Johnny. They know how old I am and give me respect. They like my music cause it’s not hip-hop. I play the weird stuff like  “Death in Vegas, Goldfarb, Nick Cave and old Bowie.”  Visions is blue collar and more work. My knees are scraped and my thighs always sore after a 9-hour shift at Visions. It’s a real stage show. You make good cash on stage because you dance on two bars and guys have to tip while sitting at the bar or they’re asked to leave. It’s all local boys all the time and the Saints won tonight so it was guys in football jerseys howling, lots of tequila and shy Alabama types. Truckers. Missing teeth. Fat guys with wives at home bored stiff.  But they don’t just hang around and drink, Visions guys want to be entertained and they’re there to spend.  I wanted a G tonight,  but the gorgeous girl from Florida was there too, and she snagged a guy I had been working on-no matter. I still cleared $700. Going to go into Rick's Cabaret tonight and audition. My friend Laura Jackson says it's easy street. It's all about biding time to write.