Ava Adore

Shift: 10.10.10, 6pm-2am.

It looks like we might be rounding the bend back into Stripper Season, which I’m thrilled about. The sun goes down, it gets colder, beaches have less half-naked women… and so you come back. You always come back. Disney villain laughter here.

It’s about damn time, and I’m ecstatic to be working the cold season again. I’ve been kept so busy that I haven’t been able to update the last two shifts from Wednesday and Saturday: I made B grades each night but I definitely still hate, hate working Saturdays.

I didn’t work Friday like usual because I went out with Ch. instead and dyed her hair blue. It brings out her eyes and she’s fucking adorable. Just saying. Anyway, Story came in to work with Lilah and I at the House last night, so that was sweet.

She had great shoes! Leave it to me to notice that. Teeze-05s in candy apple Red, in case you were wondering. It was cool to have a kindred blogging spirit around, plus just the charisma and wealth of experiences she brought with her. A definite pleasure.

For my part, it was the Evening of Dudes with J-Names. I got a dance with a teddy bear named John, 2 from a Hollister guy named Jerry, and 2 from Joe, who was a total sweetheart and was just happy to dance around with me at the bar like middle school.

I also got a private with Joe—and a private with a married couple a) who won’t be married for long and b) whose names I didn’t catch. That private I did with Vi. I danced for the gent, she danced for the lady; the lady is the second encounter of the Naked Vagina kind that I’ve had.

That shit never ceases to floor me. #Put That Away!

Like seriously? Seriously. Seriously right now you’re at a strip club without panties on getting a lapdance and trying to suckle Vi.’s breasts like an unweened child? Even for me, it was a bit intense. The husband seemed equally turned off, thus the ‘not married for long’ statement. His words, not mine. Good luck with that one.

Also, I’m running out of Douchebag profiles because I am better at picking them out right away. Sat with some guy who had the makings of a That Guy, his line was he was a millionaire on welfare. All his friends ratted him out for having money, but oh no, he’d rather take me to “real dinner with real drinks and real girls.”

Apparently I’m Not A Real Girl! Now I know what Pinocchio was on to. Anyway, I left his sorry ass before I could really count him as a waste of my time. Go me. Spent the evening in Punk Rock Princess (v2, with vest) and got new bruises on my inner upper right arm. Pics to follow.

Douchebag Count: 0.
$hift Grades: A+