Ava Adore

Shift: 09.13.10, 6pm-4am.

Alright, alright. Fair’s fair. I suppose when I say, ‘we all have those nights,’ it should apply to me, too. Now, I’m not an egomaniac, but I go on facts and I am one of the House’s top consistent earners… but I work hard, and even on a slow night I can get something going.

But this was My Bad Night. You win some, you lose some. This was set up to be a night for Total Lose. I lost count of the douchebags. Literally. It started with Douchebag Number 1, Keith, who set the tone for the evening.

I don’t even have a DSM write up for this guy. I’ve never met a douche like him and I’m not sure I will again. It was flat-out bizarre. He liked me—a lot. He bought me drinks, we laughed and got on well, he tipped me, he wanted a dance. He wanted a private.

Okay, we go to pay for said private. He gets to the bloody host where he has to pay, and the host says, ‘$120,’ and he hesitates and asks for a lapdance instead. I was surprised and I asked him what was wrong; he said ‘Nothing, I just…’ and then directly,

‘Nevermind, I don’t want anything.’ And walked out.

_{(This shift report is kinda long, soooo…)}

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DSM of Dbags: Type H: “Cockblocker.”

Installment eight of the catalogue of the douchebags I meet.

Last night’s Douchebag of the Night: Type H, “Cockblocker.”

The psychology of the Cockblocker is pretty much self-explanatory, as, in the case of That Guy, it transcends the strip club. Not unsurprisingly, this gentleman may even be more of a douchebag to his friend than to any of the girls, because he’s a whiny and/or angry pansy hellbent on ruining his friend’s night and any attempts at fun. Go listen to Dashboard Confessional already.

Am I the only one who finds it amusing and ironic that the ‘Cockblocker’ winds up being letter H? I have visions in my head right now of Mike running to CVS to get Preparation H. C’est la vie.

Anyway, as if I didn’t talk enough about Mike in that shift summary, Mike was the Chief of the Cockblockers. I think he has an army of cockblockers just waiting on his beck and call, because his prowess only proves he’s trained others.

Regardless, not only did Anthony give Mike the money for his lapdance, Mike managed to somehow so thoroughly not enjoy it that it ruined all future prospects for his own lapdances as he tried to ruin prospects for Anthony, too.

And then, after calming down the post-lapdance raging Hulk he’d become, he drowned his sorrows (I guess?) to the point where he tried to drive home drunk, making his friend leave a private session to check on him. That drunk.

There were other instances, too, like the numerous times he tried to get Anthony to leave because of he was in a sour mood. Really man? That is some world-class cockblocking. I congratulate your skills.

Do not come between a man and his desire to part with money in exchange for hot asses. Or, just don’t come between a friend and a good time, I think is the best take-home lesson, strippers aside.

Either Anthony is used to Mike’s cockblocking ways and this wasn’t a first, or he was just undeterred in his quest for a good time last night—and for that, Anthony sir where ever you are, I salute you.