Far away

So I'm living 1,500 miles away from Atlanta. Pretty sweet. I haven't started working yet and I'm living in hotels at the moment. There are tons of hippies here; hippies are a group that I love to hate (but really just love), because I'm such a not-hippie.

drugs, drugs, drugs

So I just did a few bumps of coke that I've had laying around for the past few days. Funny story on how I got it. I was at work on Wednesday night sitting at a table talking with two customers. My customer gets up to go the bathroom and this girl I work with but don't really talk to comes and sits down next to me. She makes some small talk with the other customer and then turns to me and asks me if I party. I replied with the ever-so-smooth "uh, sure...if it's free" then she proceeds to slip me a baggie of coke (prob ~3/4 gram) saying that it's really good but she's done too much and is really fucked up. She tells me I should go do it, but I decide to stash it in my bag and save it for later. I was going to do it last night before a dance/rave party sort of thing I was going to but I ended up doing MDA instead.

MDA, meh. I had never done it before, but have done molly (MDMA) a few times. My friend and I decided to snort it because it looked like coke and I like snorting shit. Well that was mistake number one. That shit burns like a motherfucker. Burned worse than coke, molly, meth, adderall (which doesn't burn at all and tastes delicious), we were in tears on the ground. Then once it starts to drip the taste is just foul. Mistake number two was doing it out on my kitchen counter. At the time my roommate wasn't home and we figured he wouldn't be coming back for a while so what the hell. Well after line number one we're in the bathroom crying about the burn when all of a sudden in walks the roommate. About two feet in front of his eye (he was with a friend) are a bunch of lines on the counter, complete with rolled up dollar bills and little dime bags to match. Great, now my roommate thinks I'm a fucking drug addict which is not the case. My friend and I are in the bathroom cracking up because for some reason my roommate busting in on us doing drugs is hilarious to us at the time. He retreats to his room with his friend pretty quickly and we have no other choice but to go back and finish out shit. More incredibly painful burning (at one point my friend said she didn't even want to finish it because it hurt so bad) and we were done. I started feeling it only a few minutes afterwards but the high wasn't what I was expecting. It was a speedy yet happy high, somewhere between coke and meth I guess. I wanted to get leaving for the club quickly before my high got worse or disappeared. Well that was nothing to worry about because my noticable high only lasted about 20 minutes and was hardly evident by the time we got to our destination. Once inside I did notice that lights and discoballs looked a bit cooler than usual, and I may have felt a bit more confident than I usually feel, but it was nothing spectacular. My friend seemed to enjoy it and seemed a bit annoyed that I didn't love it. I noticed that she seems to prefer more chill drugs (weed, molly, shrooms), while I definitely have an affinity for speedier stuff (coke, meth) especially when mixed with opiates (oxy preferably) or alcohol. I guess it's just a brain chemistry thing. We met some boys at the club and of course they needed a ride home so I drove them back to their place. They lived in a dorm room and my friend wanted to chill there for a bit so I figured why not. I drank a little there (along with the one drink I had towards the end of the night at the club) which made things a bit better. We ended up going to chatroulette to try and see how many guys we could get to masturbate and come on the camera for us. After the did the guys we were with would all jump into view and give the thumbs up sign. Pretty immature and entertaining. We left around 9:00 this morning after my friend went off with one of the dudes to participate in some questionable activities. I slept from about 10:00 till 3:30. I can't seem to get tired tonight. That's why I figured I'd do a little of my coke, if I'm going to be awake I might as well be really awake and in a good mood. I'm saving the rest for another party night or work. Whichever comes first.

Speaking of work, I'm moving in less than a week so I'm not going to be seeing much more of the club. This is more depressing to me than I expected. Everything seems better when you're remembering it and not actually doing it.

L and I got into sort of fight the other night. We're so weird. He texted me last weekend asking what I was going to be doing for my last weekend here. Now generally when someone texts you something like that it means that they're trying to hang out with you, or at least I would assume. Especially since we don't really talk very often. So I answer back how I'll probably be packing but I don't really have any finite plans. No response...Maybe he was mad because he invited me to dinner the other night and I declined? I have no idea. So then this Monday I decided to down a half bottle of vodka and get a bit trashed. Around 11:45 or so I emailed L informing him that I was drunk and that we should hangout before I leave. I tell him about the party my friend and I are going to on Thursday and invite him to come. For some reason he responds by telling me that he's free on Tues and Thurs and then adds in his activities he has planned for the rest of the week even though it's pretty irrelevant to me. Well one of those activities is a somewhat girly movie he's seeing on Friday which pretty much means date for him because he doesn't generally go see movies unless he's trying to get laid. Same thing with alcohol. For some reason (me being drunk) I get annoyed by this and tell him that I don't want to sleep with him if he's fucking other girls and go on about how I'm 11 years younger than him and have plenty of other options that aren't fucking around. It was a pretty inappropriate response on my part and in a sober state I see that but I was being a dramatic drunk girl. He responds by acting surprised that I prefer monogamy; something along the lines of 'a monogamous alcoholic stripper who believes we're constituted of nothing more than blobs of cells, do you actively try to not make any sense' Like my profession has anything to do with my sex preferences. Dick. Then, still drunk I go on a rant about men and how gross they are and point out that he was the one who initiated sex with me (when we lived together) and pointed out some lies that I had picked up on in the past but never pointed out. It was a pretty vitrolic email and I didn't get or expect to get a response. At this point I'm done contacting him. If he contacts me again (I put money on it he will) he better have some very important and nice things to say or I'm over it.

I pretty much just wrote the longest post ever (thanks cocaine!), sorry about that.

Ice

Oh Valentine's day, where do I even begin.

The club was dead when I got there. We only had 16 girls, though.

My first dance of the night was for a guy who is probably in Afghanistan by now. He was a cutie.

When I was on stage some asian dude came and tipped me big and he was at a high top so I went over there after my set. He was there with a friend from out of state and they seemed to be cool with spending money. I did a few dances for the guy and he handed me a $100 and didn't ask for change. Nice. I chilled with them and danced on and off for about an hour when one of the waitresses tells me that a guy in the upstairs vip wants some dances. Now the upstairs vip overlooks the whole club, so you can see everyone below when you're up there. It was scarface asian and some of his buddies. I've danced for him before and he's cool so off I went.

When I got up there I danced a bit for scarface and then he bought a dance for his friend, we'll call blondie. I dance for blondie who I can tell is fuuuuucked up for a few songs. At this point I'd made about $150 off them. I go downstairs for a bit to use the restroom and do a few dances. While I'm walking around I run into blondie who tells me to come back upstairs. Ok.

That's when I did something kind of bad. Blondie asks me if I party, and being in one of my 'who gives a fuck, i'm at the strip club on valentine's day' moods I ask him what he has.

"Ice," he says.

Now I'm thinking ice is crack because I obviously don't know my drug slang very well.

"Is that crack?" I ask.

"No, it's ice, you know, meth."

Fuck. Meth is one of those drugs that you say you're never going to do. It's one of those trashy fuck your life up for good drugs.

So what do I do? I try it!!!

Another example of my choice decision making skills.

Here's the worst part; it was good. Really fucking good. Best I've ever felt in my whole entire life good. Which is bad.

After that I was on fire for the rest of the night. I ended up making a bit over $600, which isn't fantastic, but I'll take it.

I get home and I still feel pretty good and oh so awake. I call my best friend to tell her what I did and she wasn't too upset. Then I went and worked out because I had soooooo much energy.

I didn't sleep for a good 40 hours. The come down was rough. You're awake, but you no longer feel good. You know you should be tired and your body needs sleep but it's not happening. But the high was good. That's why I'm not going anywhere near it ever again-I can see why people get addicted to that shit, and that's not something I need.

So that was my V. day. Spent it at a stripclub drinking and snorting meth. Classy as usual.

Publishing error

So I had typed up an entire post and when I went to publish it there was an error. Fuck that shit.

Here's the tl;dr version

Girl I wrote about here is working at my club

I'm working valentine's day because I'm single as usual. I'd rather make $600 on V. day than get some shitty chocolates and flowers

My best friend has a boyfriend which means she doesn't call or hang out because she cares about boys more than anything else in the world.

I'm moving in three weeks.

17 shots

Our first date went fairly well.

Except for the part where he informed me that his ex wife used to work as a stripper at the club I work at.

Now at this point in time he had no idea I was a stripper, as it hadn't been mentioned. Unless he could just tell because I let off some sort of stripper vibe-which according to my friends, I do.

Honestly this really kind of ruined it for me. Even though I'm pretty sure it was just coincidence I didn't want to date a 'stripper chaser'.

The date lasted about 2 hours. Got a text on my way home about how he had fun and we should meet up again.

Met up 2 or 3 days later. He showed me his car-verrrrrry nice. The two guns he keeps in his car, nice but a little weird. One in the glove box and one right by his seat. Both loaded and ready to do damage. Hmmm.

A few days later he takes me out to lunch at a very posh restaurant. Delicious. No leftovers allowed in the car. Also he has to park the car where he can keep an eye on it...a bit paranoid for my tastes.

I find out he does coke fairly regularly.

ALL RICH MEN DO COKE

I guess this is just something I'm going to have to deal with if I want to date wealthy dudes.

He bought me pepper spray at the shooting range. My first gift from a rich old dude is pepper spray. WTF?

Honestly after a few more dates I realized that the relationship wasn't going anywhere. There was just no chemistry.

Instead of taking the grown-up route and telling him I just wasn't interested I decided to be immature about it and just start ignoring his calls and texts. I know, it's shitty. I'm a shitty person sometimes.

I went to a party this past weekend and drank a lot. 17 shots a lot. Blacked out and puked in some kid's bed. I'm too old to still be doing such things. I washed his sheets and left him a $50 as a 'I'm sorry for being a gross human being and puking in your bed' gift.

L texted me the other night (he's been contacting me a lot lately, but only through email).

He wanted to let me know he found some pictures of me on his phone from a while back. Pictures of the nude variety I'm assuming. Pictures he took as I tried to frantically cover myself up with pillows and any other objects within range.

None of them show my face, so I don't really care.

Then he has the audacity to ask me to resend him a picture of my boobs that I had emailed him last summer. Really?

I don't know what he's doing with these photos but if he's using them as jack off material then that's annoying. How can you turn me down when I proposition you for sex (few months ago) but be ok with jerking it to pictures of me??? I hate men.

50 year old continued

So that was that.

A few days had gone by and then the call came. An unrecognized number lit up my phone. Here it is, my chance to make a good impression. So I pick up and put my most charming personality on. The call lasted over an hour, so I must not have been too bad, but I cannot remember what we talked about.

I do remember getting off the phone and my roommate making the comment "He must really like young girls 'cause the way you were talking you sounded about 12." I chalked it up to him being a jealous asshole.

During the course of our conversation the 50 year old asked if I wanted to grab some coffee in a little while so that we could meet in person. Hmm...a coffee date is the lowest rung on the dating ladder, but whatever.

I showed up at Starbucks a bit early so I grabbed a seat inside where I could have a view of anyone entering the building.

About 5 minutes later a very expensive (we're talking $200,000) car pulls up. That has got to be him. Out he comes. A bit shorter than I prefer. Hair loss is noticeable. He's certainly older than I've ever dated before. All in all not too bad. We exchange hugs and then the games begin.

I'm not a very social or outgoing person, but when I meet someone for the first time in a date-y setting I can be a real pain. I don't know why, but I tend to try and make the other person feel as uncomfortable as possible. I like seeing them squirm. No questions are off limits and there's very little etiquette to be found. I guess it's my way of testing them-to see if they can put up with me for the long haul.

The 50 year old

So I've been reading a few other blogs lately and I realized that most female bloggers talk about dating far more than I do.

Now I really started this blog to talk about stripping, but let's face it-I'm not a very interesting stripper. I don't do crazy things at work. I haven't fucked any coworkers. I haven't started selling drugs. I partake in the ingestion of illegal substances every now and again but I don't have any gut-wrenching drug addiction sob stories. Don't fight with the other girls or participate in their drama. I'm a *gasp* boring stripper.

So...dating. I have dated since L and I broke up. There have been a few guys where a few weeks of dating occured. Obviously no serious relationships, but I'm really not mature enough for those it seems.

For this post I'm going to focus on the 50 year old.

The 50 year old was not someone I met through work surprisingly. It all started as I was walking through the cosmetic section of Bloomingdales one fine afternoon. Now I don't shop at Bloomingdales 'cause it's a little out of my price range, but I often park in front of it so walking through it is inevitable.

As I'm making my way towards the door a very pretty older lady stops me and asks if I'd like a makeover.

"Uhh, why not," I say, not having anything better to do.

As she's applying various things to my face we start talking about life. Jobs (I lie and tell her I'm a waitress), school, boys, etc.

When we get to boys I inform her that I'm single and she asks me what type of guy I'm into. I jokingly respond "Old and rich." She laughs a bit and asks if I'm serious about the old thing. I tell her that I do tend to be attracted to men at least 10 years my senior and having money doesn't hurt.

"I have someone I think you should meet," she says.

Makeup lady then proceeds to tell me about the 50 year old. "He's very wealthy, if you start dating he'll probably take you shopping and stuff a lot."

I'm sold.

This is it, I tell myself. This is what I've been waiting, no, hoping for.

She then inquires if I would mind her giving the 50 year old my number and in the name of shopping sprees I tell her to go ahead. I go home in an overly optimistic mood and start fantasizing about living the life of a sugar baby.

This is going to be a fairly long...story...so I'll continue this post tomorrow.