Ava Adore

Learn the Lingo

» “Christmas” - At the House, Christmas is the term for alcohol we bring in, since we’re technically not supposed to do that because we’re technically supposed to get someone at the bar to pay for us. But let’s be honest, you can’t get drunk on a drink here or there, and some nights, some nights, you want it to feel like a party. It’s called Christmas because it’s a present - a surprise we don’t do all the time, and when we do, it’s like bloody Christmas morning in the locker room.

» “Quiet Time” - Relatively new, but catchy. I was being an ass because Lo. had returned to work and I hadn’t seen her dance since she’d been fired, so I said obnoxiously “Shhhhhh!” to the girls sitting around me chatting. “It’s quiet time.” Meaning time to focus on the girl on stage. At first the joke was funny, then I got made fun of, and then it caught on. So now people say “Shhh! Quiet time!” when they want to watch the stage.

» “Synchronized Stripping” - When the two girls on stage are doing the exact same stripper moves at exactly the same time. Lz. and a new girl were doing this on Monday night and we didn’t know what to make of it. It had all the allure of synchronized swimming - it’s cool that you can do that… but also kind of weird. A whole surreal aspect to performance. High art or low brow? You be the judge.

Shift: 10.18.10, 6pm-12am.

I am happy the Yankees are in the playoffs.

I am happy the Yankees are in the playoffs. I am happy the Yankees are in the playoffs.

Maybe if I keep repeating it, it will become true. Okay—that’s a little harsh. Being a Yankees fan, I am happy they’re in the playoffs. What I am not happy about is that the Serious Faced Sports Fans—a large chunk of clientele—don’t want to be distracted by chatty women with only slightly concealed breasts as they watch the game.

Which means they watch the games at home with their Serious Faces as we get closer to the playoff’s conclusion. Which means I’m slightly cranky. Not as cranky as Summer Season cranky, but about as cranky as a child who has a lollipop, and is promised another lollipop next Sunday, and then, come Sunday there is no lollipop.

Spent last night getting only stage tips and heavy barside tips from Tony, a respectful regular who comes in and just blows cash on drinks and tipping but nothing else—he’s always high as a kite and a good time to chat with. Then the gents from the other night, Keith and Bob and newly Bart, came in and tipped me for about an hour.

“Vegas” Jeff came in and Ch. sat with him for a bit; we didn’t get to catch-up long, but he did say something really nice to me: “When I saw you when you started, you were a dancer—now I see you and you’re a performer.” Aw, shucks.

And that’s my story. I spent the entire night hanging with Ch. and Jo. at Tony’s side and then Keith’s side, with stage interludes. Lo. got her job back, she’s working Saturdays and Sundays. I still have bruises. I wore Closer, Snow White, and Punk Rock V2.0. I’m still not feeling too hot; may not work tomorrow.

Douchebag Count: 0
$hift Grade: C

Shift: 10.17.10, 6pm-12am.

This shift was not as intense as Friday’s, thankfully. It was slow for a Sunday, surprisingly. I made my first $100 simply because Ch.’s drunk, handsy client Gary thought I was cute and Ch. was nice enough to share, and the drunk guy was good enough to continue to tip us both heavily, so it was win-win.

Ch. left hella early because her knees were killing her. I gotta get that girl some Tiger Balm patches. I made stage tips the rest of the night until Brett and Felicia came in for her post-birthday lapdance (Happy birthday girl! I don’t think you read this, but you rock anyway) right before I left, around midnight. I love those clients.

Lo. came in to visit around 11:30, which was pretty cool! We caught up, she’s trying to get her job back because it turns out Mi. got fired (!) which I didn’t know until last night. I don’t know what Mi. could have possibly done to get fired, but seeing as it’s Mi., it must have been pretty bad; I know they like to keep her. I am surprised.

That’s about it. Watched bad Japanese horror at Ch.’s after my shift. Was ADD with clothes, wore Lorenzo, La Cage, SOS, and Baby Firefly. I need to update my locker list badly. I have new bruises on my hip from landing a new trick. Learned two new tricks, still working on getting them to look right.

Douchebag Count: 0
$hift Grades: B

Turnover Rate

I guess it happens sometime to all of us who stick around one place too long. You look up and suddenly you don’t recognize anyone. All the faces you came to know, laugh with, worry over—they’re missing from the life of the place, faded to decor and then gone.

It’s not all sad, of course. You get girls like Ag. and Rv. who go on to other things, life progress, moving up and moving out and moving on. You get girls who’ve left, hoping for greener pastures at other clubs in a down economy. You get girls fired over stupid shit they didn’t do. You get girls fired over stupid shit they did do.

And you look up and suddenly Ry., Lo., Ls., Ag., Rv., Sk.—they’re all gone. Ah., Cr., they never hacked it past their first month. Ev., Gi., Ri., Br., Dy.—haven’t seen them in weeks, I don’t know where they are or if they’re still with us. Instead I’ve got a ton of girls I have to learn the names of within 2 weeks if they manage to stick around.

And part of that makes me miss the girls I started with terribly… and part of it, oddly, feels a lot like college. It reminds me of my years in university when, each year around this time, your seniors aren’t on campus any more and the freshmen are instead. It feels a lot like that, a mix of forlorn and hopeful.

It’s somehow fitting that the gone girls were my seniors. But it’s also that mixed feeling you get at graduation: you know at some point, it’s going to be you doing the long walk. And you can’t see yourself doing it and you don’t know when—but you know others have gone before you, so you will follow, in time.

Stripping is a business attached to a body clock if nothing else. Circadian rhythm, lunar cycles, and the pull of gravity on the weight of our bones.

Shift: 07.20.10, 6pm-2am.

It was a complicated night, lots of highs and lows. Uncharacteristically, I’m going to do a “Read More” cut in my shift summary because it’ll get lengthy… but interesting.

Started out at 6, met up with Lilah who was already working, came in with Ri. and Ny. Chatted with Lo. for awhile, who was on day shift, then I sat with John, a regular that Au. introduced me to a month or so back. An older gent, he was not very talkative, but nice enough, and he got one dance from me before he left around 7.

I sat with Tony for awhile, another regular with whom I’ve danced before; he was high, as usual. I think I enjoy his company because trying to figure out the thought processes behind his sentences is like a game. He bought Ny. and I X-Rated shots before he left—and he inspired the new “You Know You’re A…” series I’ll be doing.

After that was some serious dead space until about 10, when two gents walked in and sat across the bar from us, Anthony and Mike. Mike waved at me, so Ny. and I went over to talk to the two of them. It was clear that I hit it off way better with Anthony than I did with Mike, who seemed kind of withdrawn.

Anthony, on the other hand, was completely awesome. He joked around a lot with us and I wish I could recall even half of the funny things that were said. It started off with how he’d been golfing that day and it had been “his best golfing day to date”—also his only. He joked that his ‘mama dressed him,’ khakis and all.

Not fifteen minutes into it, he looks right at me and says, “Well, let’s get it over with,” with a wink. Mike called him gay earlier and it became a running joke that he actually doesn’t like vagina, so Ny. and I were to ‘turn him straight.’ (Don’t get me started on the politics, okay?) I was his first dance.

When I came back, the three of us talked for some more, and Anthony said he wanted Ny. next, and then the both of us together. So he took Ny. back for a lapdance and I hung back and waited for them. They came back—and so did Mike, who had also gone for a lapdance with another dancer—but Mike was livid.

Read More

General Updates

» So, about that smoking ban at the House? I forgot to mention… didn’t stick. The very next shift I’d gone in for, I think that was the Friday following, the cigarettes were back en masse.

» Ry. got fired this past Monday. Rumours are flying but I’m holding out until she tells me herself why. Super sad about it. Also super sad that because of some House drama, Lo. got relegated to day shift.

» I enabled Anonymous questions on the Ask feature, you pansies. I retain the right to not answer anything absolutely awful. But I have a pretty high tolerance for ‘absolutely awful,’ as the club kinda trains you in that sort of thing, so try me.

Shift: 07.14.10, 8pm-4am.

Slow night. It seemed promising at first, because it was decently busy at 9pm, but as the night wore on we got less and less customers, plus no 2-o’clock-rush (aka Drunk Boys Have the Most Fun). So it was not a very productive evening.

Lilah, Ny., and I began the night with our Douchebag of the Evening! Insert canned applause sound byte here. We sat with Jimbo (we can not make this up) for about an hour, and he did tip us, but then he pulled a pseudo-Bank Run/ner…

He asked us to change into our more off-beat costumes. He wanted me to pull out the Catholic Schoolgirl (which I like, never wear any more but just carry around cos it’s a staple) and Lilah in her nun getup and Ny. in her robin’s egg blue PVC.

True to form, by the time we came back to collect and show off, he was nowhere to be found. Cowardice at its classiest.

After that I had the pleasure of bullshitting with John from Westnyle (metal band, check them out) and we talked for hours, mainly about music and the human condition, as if you would be surprised by that. He gave me one dance, my only of the night.

And, to date, hands-down, my favourite dance. I don’t know if I can even call it that. He kept making faces and funny movements the whole time, which made ‘sexy dancing’ pretty much impossible. We spent most of the five minutes laughing.

He was my last customer and I was his “Fifth favourite person.” Which I suppose is a plus, since by the first fifteen minutes of talking I was his ninth favourite person, so I moved up in rank.

Other than that, I just hung out with the girls. Lo. came in briefly; I hadn’t seen her since Friday, apparently she’s doing day shifts now—sad times. And Ds. got wrecked, which, if it is at all possible, made her even more adorable.

I am not kidding when I say I brushed her hair for her like a little girl. She was so giggly and cute and entertaining. I believe it is an all-out talent for a girl to be absolutely darling while she’s absolutely shitfaced.

Minor bruising. Costumes: Limewire, Catholic Schoolgirl, Punk Rock Princess, Boifriend.

Douchebag Count: 1.
$hift Grade: D

Shift: 07.05.10, 8pm-4am.

So last night was, hands-down, the worst night at the club I’ve ever worked, monetarily speaking. Post-Holiday Syndrome. Everyone spent cash the day before (the 4th) so no one was tipping—which naturally begs the question, so Why the Fuck are You Here? but no one likes to be asked that.

If it weren’t for one particular client, Doug, I would have made no cash last night. Thankfully, Doug was a wonderful to sit with and very funny and I enjoyed spending time with him, so I did so for a few hours. He gave me dances, which was great.

Then after he left I had the pleasure of sitting with Chuck, who comes in every now and again when he’s in the area, but I’d not met him before. He gave me a neck massage, and was actually good at them, so that was nice; he rounded out my evening with one last dance.

In other news, a friend of Lilah and mine, Rain (henceforth called Ri.), started last night. We felt bad that it was her first interaction with the club, since it was so cash short, but everyone made her feel really welcome and I think she’ll fit in nicely if she stays. She impressed everyone with her Alice in Chains selection.

Lastly, updates on Lo.: definitely has progressed from strippercrush to actual crush. We were flirting all through last night and it has half hot-stripper and half girl-gradeschool. If nothing else, still hella fun. Makes me all blushy dorky.

Minor inner right thigh bruising. Costumes were Punk Rock Princess, Sparkling Diamond, Lace Domme, and Closer. Also I’ve concluded that my clients can be as funny as Lilah’s, my memory is just for shit and I can’t remember most of the quotes. Sad times.

Douchebag Count: 0.
$hift Grade: B

Strippercrushes

Alright… this is another one of those weird, strippers-only locker room conversations. As I’ve said before, it’s a whole other world with its own guidelines and we all recognize it; that was actually something Lo., Mi., and I were laughing about last night—how you could never repeat what we say ‘in public’ because it wouldn’t be taken the same way.

Context. The context is everything.

Anyway… Most of the girls have ‘strippercrushes.’ It’s like a straight girl saying “I’d go gay for so-and-so,” or the slang for the hetero-equivalent of “girlcrush”—which is to say, there’s a surface value to it. There is a quality about them which makes them crushworthy, were you to swing that way, but it’s not serious.

There’s a level of inaccessibility; most (though not all) “girlcrushes” are on celebrities, models, and so forth. In hetero-land, it often also involves a talent, like singing (e.g. Hayley Williams). And that’s valid, it’s nice to see people appreciated across spectrums and appreciated within the growing safety nets of expanding sexualities.

Strippercrushes are kind of like that.

Read More

Shift: 06.28.10, 6pm-1am.

Lilah and I were pretty much literally served our first clients of the night. We walked in, she had her Red Bull, and the far side of the bar from where we were sitting was full, so the bartender asked this party of 4 to sit in our seats.

Sure, we stood up. And pretty much sat right back down in their laps. Not literally, but you get the idea. It was like a present. These Wall Street etc gents had been on LUNCH BREAK since about 1pm, and around 8pm wandered right on into the House.

No complaints there.

We were introduced at first to “The Man,” whose name is Damian, but we didn’t know that right away because we were too busy laughing over the fact that his friends introduced him as The Man. So we gave the rest of them names, too: Superboss (his choice), El Presidente/The President (depending on our mood), and The Sultan (their DD).

Damian spent the whole night with me and got 2 dances and tipped me very, very well. We got enough rapport that he let me tip the other girls for him, which I love to do. He was enamoured of my rock chick attitude and wanted me to get him drunk and give him a mohawk. That was the kind of night I had—and it was fun.

Other news: I slapped Lilah’s ass so hard that I left a full five-finger print. I was proud. Not gonna lie. I can give a good smack but I’ve never left a mark before. Also, you’ll notice in the subject, our shift got cut short: this was due to Lilah’s cranial bleeding.

While she was in the back changing, Br. opened the locker above her head quickly; when Lilah stood, the locker door slammed right into it. I’ll let her tell more. Needless to say, the result was bloody, dizzy, and got us excused early (since we travel in packs, you know).

I spent a lot of time hanging out with Jo., who sat with Damian and I for awhile, and Sk., who is growing on me a lot. I really like the rock girls. I’ve always enjoyed spending time with Ry. and Dy., but I’m getting closer with Jo. and Sk.; I love talking with them. And Lo., but I’ll get to Lo. in another post.

Costumes: Punk Rock Princess and Cherry Kirsch. No new bruises, but the friction bruises from Sunday night finally showed up, so I’ll give you a glimpse of those next. I forget the QFLN that Damian said. I hope Lilah remembers it. Go go gadget memory.

Douchebag Count: 0.
$hift Grade: B-