Ava Adore

Shift: 06.21.10, 6pm-2am.

Ugh. Where to start. I’m not sure anyone was even relevant. It was another “barely a dozen customers” kinda evening. So rather than run each customer down one by one, since no one stayed very long, I’ll just give you the highlights.

Sammy came back in. Only this time I do count him as a certified douchebag for the evening. While he gave me $300 for listening to him last time, this time he only flipped me a $20, and gave all the girls a hard time, would barely tip anyone, and if anything a dollar, even Jo., whom he usually tips well too.

The icing on the cake was when I was called to stage and he turns to me, full Father Figure style, and says, ‘If you dance on stage I am leaving.’ I was like, ‘You watched me last time.’ And he just repeated himself. This nonsense after asking if I wanted to have his babies. Literally. I am not sitting with him again.

The other highlight was a gent named Greg who stopped me from sitting with this really nice guy John, which I now regret. John wound up getting a private with Ds., who took my seat after I relinquished it to sit with Greg. John is a sweet guy, graphic designer for an in-house company, so we had a lot to talk about.

Greg on the other hand was alllll about getting a dance from me (sound familiar yet?) and just wanted to hang out with Ts. (a new Russian girl I actually really enjoy spending time with) and I first. And then the infamous statement: ‘I just gotta run to my car to get more money.’ Car, ATM, Bank—same difference: Bank Run/ner.

I made pretty much no cash apart from what I made on stage: everyone was really into my Punk Rock Princess costume, I got tipped really well for that and rocked the handcuffs with it to House of 1000 Corpses (finally got around to adding that officially, only took me a month).

The only dance I got was because Au. was watching out for me again. She’s really sweet and I love working with her and I hope to get her back, too, soon; we were both hanging out and bored and she called in a regular of hers, Michael, whom she let give me a dance. He was very well-spoken.

I should have some of my regulars in tonight… god willing… and I was looking forward to returning her the favour, but she called me today and said the House had fired her for ‘making out with a customer,’ which seems like a pretty ridiculous charge when girls are kept who do worse. I’m hoping the House changes its mind and rehires her.

Minor friction bruises, inner right thigh, but too tiny to care or take photos of. Costumes were La Cage and Punk Rock Princess. In personal news, I did feel a lot better after dancing and it definitely helped clear my head to just not think for awhile. I love dancing.

Douchebag Count: 2.
$hift Grade: D

DSM of Dbags: Type E: “Bank Run/ner.”

Installment five of the catalogue of the douchebags I meet.

Last night’s Douchebag of the Night: Type E, the “Bank Run/ner.”

The psychology of the Bank Run/ner involves insecurity and cowardice underneath a shield of machismo. The stealth ninjas of strip club douchebaggery, they’ll tip you, buy you drinks, and even say, all on their own, “I want to get a private with you, etc etc.” Then, bam! Doom: “Let me just run to the bank.” You will never see them again. Kiss it goodbye, they’re not coming back, and you just met a Bank Run/ner.

Read More