Dancing in Houston

Dancing in Houston


As most of you know I work part time as an "exotic" (I'm exotic cuz I'm from Canada) dancer.  Usually, when I'm in school, I'll dance on weekends for private bachelorette and birthday parties and occasionally in local clubs.  It's easy money, requires little time, and--if things go awry--I can at least get a good story out of it.

Today I danced at 2 birthday parties.  Lemmi break 'em down for you.


The Golden Girls


 The way it works with booking companies is that the agency will send you a text saying something like "there's a bachelorette party in neighbourhood "x" at time "t", the payment is "y"--can you make it?".   So anyway, I got two of these texts on Thursday and even though I was feeling sick all week I decided to take them cuz I thought I'd be better by Saturday (when they were taking place). 


A problem with living in a big city that you are unfamiliar with is that you have no idea how far other parts of the city are from you. Like a dumbass it never entered my head that one of these addresses was over an hour away from where I was.  So, normally what I do after I get the text and accept, I call the hostess to confirm time, address, special requests, etc...


I called the hostess for the first party and she proceded to tell me it was for her friend's 65th birthday.  But I digress...She asked me where I was coming from and I replied from U of H.  She said "Oh! that's far, it's going to take you over an hour if there's no major traffic" (Note:  Houston traffic is like LA traffic).  I'm thinking, "OMG, WTF, LOL #gettingpaidpenniesaftergas"  Shoot.  I thought this would be an easy gig, now it turns out I have 2.5 hours drive time plus the show.  Anyway, lesson is to check zipcodes on a map before you agree to do parties in a big city.


Back to my digression...so, when you've been in this binis for a while you develop intuitions about what types of groups might be problematic and what types of problems might arise with different types of groups.  It's awkward enough in the best of times to be standing in your boxers in a stranger's living room, surrounded by strangers.  You definitely want to launch preemptive defensive stikes against further potential awkwardness.  And given the hyper-religious nature of this state I thought I might launch such a strike.


So I asked the hostess if the other people in the party knew that she was hiring a dancer.  I explained that it has been my experience that not everyone is comfortable with the idea and that it might be a good idea to tell the other guests, minus the birthday girl.  I've had people run out of the room when they realized what I was there for.  It's just awkward for everyone...


Anyway, she assured me in her old-time southern bell accent that "even though we are in our 60s, we are young at heart and know how to have a good time".  Koo.


Aside:  Here's an observation.  When I am organizing details with hostesses I always ask if they have a stereo/what kind of stereo they have.  Why? Because I have music for my routine and can either bring a cd or my ipod.  Now here's the surprising thing.  Most people don't have stereos!  OMG! WTF! LOL! #wonderinghowpeoplelistentomusic.  For serious?  Maybe this is a product of being brought up by a musician but I have never known a home without some kind of stereo. 


As a child there were times when all we had to eat was brown rice, but we always had a decent stereo to rock out to.  I seriously think there's a sociology paper here drawing a correlation between people's general level of happiness and stereo ownership.  Thesis: If music isn't important in your life, there's a problem. Somebody do the study. Go! 


Carrying on with the story.  So I'm driving and driving and driving....finally Houston ends and I'm driving though farm and ranch country.  For serious.  There are cows 'n tractors and 'n shit.  I'm all "OMG! WTF! LOL! #strippinginbarnyards".  


And then all of a sudden I'm in this huge subdivision of uber-luxury homes with lakes and golf courses.    I'm talkin' 4000-6000square foot homes.  After what seems like 1000 cul-de-sacs I find her house.  She comes out to greet me, as planned.


I always do everything the same, 80% of the time.  Here's my M.O..  I give the hostess the music; explain how to press play (you think I'm joking? Trust me this is important!); explain that I will knock on the door in 2min and when the door is opened, she should press play; have the birthday girl/bachelorette seated in the room closest to the door wearing something by which I can identify her as such.


Koo.  No problems.  Now, here's what I do.  Again, I always do my cop act 80% of the time.  So, I'm dressed as a cop.  I knock on the door and start out by saying there's been a noise complaint.  Then the music starts, then I say, "Mrs. X you have violated penal code 69-69" (get it? penal code? get it? get it? it's a double entendre, cuz penal can also mean...ok, you get it).  


Then I say "Mam, I'm going to have to ask you to stand up (*stand her up*); turn around (*turn her around*); and assume the position" (*bend her over the chair*).  At this point the girls are all LOLing and OMGing.  Then I say "I said 'assume' because I assume she's been in this position before".   This is where her gurlfrenz are all "you have no idea how many times" "yeah, get her! whoohoo!" LOL! OMG!  


This is one of the funny things about being an entertainer (of any type).  You've done the show a thousand times, and you know intellectually which parts are audience favourites; but it's very easy to forget that this is the first time they've seen it.  Lines that you sometime mumble in your sleep can be comic gold to the first time hearer.  Anyway, that's a little glimpse behind the curtain. 


I've totally lost track of where I was in the story so lets just get to the part where I walk in to the house.  I walk in, and the birthday girl is seated on a bench.  Music starts.  I'm in character.  The women are hooting and hollering.  The birthday girl is loving it and, much to my delight, is a good sport.  Sometimes the "target" can be less than compliant which makes things very difficult.  


Anyway, the show went great and everyone had a great time, including me.


Oh! I forgot something.  This part is so sweet.  When I spoke to the hostess to confirm details she told me that she wanted me to work into the act that I was arresting her friend "for the crime of being so fine at 65".  I wish I could convey the genuine earnestness with which she made this request.  


I'm sure I'm not the only one who's grandmother was an angel.  If you had/have one like this try to imagine your angelic grandmother requesting some random stripper to dress up as a cop and shower her friend with compliments as part of the act.    I don't know.  Something about how much this woman cared about making her friend feel good on her birthday made me forget all about having to drive 2.5 hours for the show. 


The Latin Lowers ("Lovers" but in a thick latin accent)


I should be getting to bed seeing as I'm still fighting the flu or something so I'll be brief even though this was quite a wild party.  I don't know if anyone remembers the entry I made about the time when I was living in Phoenix and I did a bachelorette party in the hood (for realz).  Anyhow, this was kind of similar except this was in "el barrio".  


I pull up and it's a huge apartment complex with kids running around everywhere, Mexican Oompa-pa music blasting, people drinking cerveza and BBQing on their porches.  


I'm thinking to myself, "I really don't want to walk through this entire subdivision in my cop outfit, looking for the right unit number".  The asshole/prankster in me thought it'd be funny if I had a US Immigration officer costume, but I digress... 


So, what do?  I already had my pants on so, I put my cop shirt on and put my sweat shit on overtop, carried my hat in my hand, stuffed my gun holster in my bag and found the unit.  


On the porch are about 15 Mexican men drinking cervezas and BBQing.  Awkward moment with all those guys looking at the white guy in a cop outfit about to go dance for their wives and girlfriends. 


A woman comes down the steps to meet me and get the CD.  I explain how everything works.  I do the show, everything goes well.  It's a bit wild though.  


Here's the thing.  Anyone who works in this industry will tell you the same thing.  There are empirical generalizations about how members of certain cultures respond to a stripper.  In the case of Latinas you will get one of two extreme responses.  1.  Absolute terror.  This type will usually flee the scene.  Later, the other group, will physically force them to get a dance, bringing them to me kicking and screaming (I'm not kidding).  2.  The second group thinks my body is a popsicle.  For some reason the first thing they will do is try to lick my torso or nipples, or pinch my nipples.

As a public service announcement to anyone reading this who may be a member of the latter group, let me say this:  I probably don't taste very good because you are licking three layers of various chemicals.  The innermost layer is self-tanner, which, although my brand smells somewhat like animal cookies, probably doesn't taste anything like them.  The middle layer is Nivea body lotion.  How else do expect me to be so silky smooth? Also, I doubt it tastes any good.  The outermost layer is cologne to a) mask the smell of the 2 inner layers and b) to make me smell pretty.  It also doesn't taste good.

I can only conclude one thing.  Latin men must really like having their nipples licked and/or pinched.  Why else would these be such a common impulse?  Not that there's anything wrong with that.  Some of my best friends like having their nipples licked and pinched (Well, I'm actually just guessing here).  Anyway, it's just not my thing.  And...it's not part of the show.


To sum up, there were about 15 crazy women at that party and all in all they were fun.  I left with both nipples intact, and only one or two tongue width streaks in my tan.


G'nite....

"Entertainer" Woes and Rant

     I just got back from doing a show and for some reason I'm feeling kind of pissed off.  In my more enlightened moments I don't blog when I'm upset because I'll usually say something I'll regret.  So, lets see what I say!

     First off, I love performing, I really do.  I don't care if it's in my underwear or in a chicken suit or both at the same time, I love being on stage and entertaining.  You get the point.

     Yesterday I finished a term paper and I don't yet have a topic for my last paper so I thought I'd just do some reading on Friday night, maybe hit the gym.  In the afternoon I got a call to do a show.  Not just a bachelorette party but a show at a club to promote their upcoming ladies night.  It paid absolute crap, $70.00, but it was cake: I just had to get myself there, do my 5 minute show, then I could go.  Sure, why not? I thought. It'll break the monotony of eat, study, gym, study, study, class, eat, sleep, study, study, procrastinate, procrastinate, gym, eat, study...anyway, you get the idea.

     It was at a Mexican night club (more on that later) so the show wasn't until 1am.  In order to get there 15min early I left at 12.  When Im half way there my contact calls me and tells me it's been postponed until 1:30am.  No big deal.  I  could use some down time and I'm a night owl so it's not that late for me.  I'm in the change room with the other guy who's dancing at the event.   We're waiting and waiting and waiting.  Finally, at 1:50 I said to the organizer, either you put us on next song or I'm leaving.  I'm pretty easy going but we were now 50 min behind schedule for a show that essentially pays nothing and I'm cooped up in a little change room.

     The club was full on traditional Mexican with a Mexican polka band blaring their oompapa music. No big deal.  I was kind of expecting more of a Mexican-American type club with reggaeton but this was a more traditional club.  The part that felt strange was that this was not a ladies' night.  This was just a regular Friday night polka-fest; guys and all.  I don't think I've ever done a show in front of guys.  Well, actually I'm pretty sure of that.  Not that I have a problem with guys.  Some of my best friends are guys.  And some of them are Mexican guys.  And some of them are gay Mexican guys.  I just prefer not to strip for them.  Anyway, as with most traditional cultures, the guys tend to be pretty homophobic, so I thought it was odd that they all watched the show.  Maybe I'm just. that. good.   Or maybe they wanted to steal my moves!  Oh no!  Well, the more likely answer is that they probably wanted to keep an eye on their women.

     I brought my cowboy act because I thought it would go over well.  The act requires a girl from the audience.  I brought a girl up on the stage and sat her in the chair.  There's one part of the act were I take her hand and run them down my rector abdominalis (I love that word).  In this part my shirt is off but I have yet to tear away the pants.  Immediately after I turn around, straddle her legs and slowly take my belt off.  The whole time she's trying to tear my pants off...

     Let me stop for a moment and tell all of you who have never done any type of performance a thing or two about entertainer pet peeves.  Near the top of the list is audience participants that fuck with your show!  Everything is carefully timed, be it a magic or dance or comedy.  Also, it my show, not yours!  If you want a show, put the time in, and spend years getting to the point were people will actually pay to see you.  Moving on....

     There's a musical cue I'm waiting for and if you mess shit up I'm gonna be pissed!  Of course most people by 2am in a bar are drunk and probably won't know and don't care, but to the entertainer, we care!  The only way to be a good entertainer is if you care.  You can't be good if you don't care.  It's simple!  Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

     Anyway, I'm trying to nicely hint to her to stop it by firmly but gently taking her hands off my buttons and placing them on my hips but she won't stop. This is not the first time this has happened an usually this subtle hint is sufficient.   Let me stop (again) to explain something.  I had come to the club in a good mood.  To me I wasn't doing it so much for the money but as a break from studying and do something fun that I'd also get paid for (but not sooooooo fun that I'd do it for free).  But after the 50min wait I was a bit irritated.  And I felt a little awkward with all the guys in there staring me down.  This chick was going to push me over the edge.  So, I grabbed her wrists really hard and placed them very firmly on my hips.  Remember, the whole time everyone in the club is watching so I'm smiling my face off like everything's just dandy.

     Finally, the music, my choreography and the plot-line of my schtick (by schtick I mean act)  cumulate into a glorious festival of flying pants to reveal my "sacred" American flag booty shorts.  In the final part of the act I kind of side straddle the girl in the chair (hard to describe), put the cowboy hat on her and spin her around in the chair.  So I'm trying to get into position but she keeps pushing me off her.  WTF?  A second ago you wouldn't stop tearing at my pants, and now you won't let me side straddle you? (does that sound weird?)  Every time I approach her she pushes herself away in the chair.  I'm literally chasing her around the stage.  At this point I should have given up, walked away and improvised something.  But no.  Sometimes you're locked on autopilot.  Or maybe it was cuz she had pissed me off earlier.  I don't know.  Anyway, I grabbed her, forced her in the chair, lay down with all my weight across her lap sideways and spun her around in the chair....the way the show is supposed to go!  Don't mess with my show, bitch!

     I have no idea if anyone noticed but after that, when I went to collect tips from tables I wasn't very jovial (I've been performing so long that I smile automatically when I'm on stage whether I want to or not--muscle memory).  Also, while I was collecting tips of course one of the guys had to take his shirt of and flex for me.  The guy needed to lay off the burritos, I'm not sure what he was trying to prove except that he needs to go to the gym.  Wow! I'm bitter! usually stuff like that makes me laugh.  Also I noticed with that crowd, which is true of most crowds, that there is an inverse relation between how much they tip and how much they grab at you.  A note to women who plan on going to a ladies night.  Yanking on a guys underwear is not sensual, or on anything else for that matter.  Maybe your boyfriend is different but as far as I know, most guys had enough wedgies back in high school.

     Ok, I'm gonna stop now.  I feel a bit better. This has been therapeutic for me.  I hope it was at least mildly entertaining for you.  As a final note, 95% of the time audiences are respectful and I am treated well.  I guess no matter what your job, there will be the occasional crappy day.  Thanks for reading!  G'night...