I'm such a bee-yatch. Last time I went to the bar I actually made money. I ended up there alone because I was drunk and didn't want to leave yet - I wanted to keep dancing. But my friend had to leave town early in the morning so she took off. I was sitting by these old jackasses who were flirting with me and these other young girls. I asked if they wanted to buy me a drink. I was sure to say, oh, you don't have to, you know...
So of course they did. But he was too lazy to go get the drink for me and the waitresses were nowhere in sight. So I would go up to the bar myself with his cash, through a throng of people, & therefore invisible to the old pervs. Then once I got up to the bar inevitabley someone else would start hitting on me. This club I was at is some kind of yuppie hellhole where my friend Jessica works (so I got in for free), and horney dudes with money are easy game. So Mr. Inevitable would then buy me whatever my drink preference was. Thus, free drinks and free money.
Now, I've flirted with people to get free drinks before. It's really easy. You can even tell them straight up that you are married and nothing will ever happen between the two of you, and somehow that doesn't matter. Their thick fuckin skulls have some delusion in there somewhere that says they still have a chance. So they buy you drinks. But this is like my crown fucking achievement, getting a free drink and ten dollars for every drink I ordinarily would have bought for myself. I'm not really sure if I should be ashamed of such manipulations or not. I kind of feel like they deserve it. I never promise anything, and much of the time I don't even lead anyone on. It's like I just have to exist in their imaginations, no matter what I say.
I want to start working at a club that serves liquor. It seems like it would be so much easier to get dances from dudes who were drunk.
I'm working at the club every day this week. I need moo-lah, after travelling to Madison for Thanksgiving (which was lovely, by the way - I love my family), buying these ridiculous glasses (which I also love), rent due, and basically not working for two weeks. My savings are gone, except for like $200 that groceries and such would eat up soon enough. Moneymoneymoney. Maybe tonight I'll try harder. Last night I made so little effort it wasn't even funny. I didn't flirt at all, didn't sit with anyone & talk, didn't pull out any of my tricks. I just went on stage, asked for dances, did the four dances that I actually got, and sat on the couches and read my book. After tip out & cab fare, I took home $41. Which is like $5/hour. Better than nothing, but evidence that I might be better off putting in a little effort.
I guess it's just hard for me to care while I'm there. I'm bored with this job. Many of my dances are from sitting with people and talking, and so many of the people that come in there are so goddamn boring and it's my job to make them feel funny and interesting and better about them selves when really I don't care in anything other than an abstract they're another living being sort of way.
Maybe I should get a six-pack and bring it in, because I don't like the brandy I have there. It's nasty & the buzz isn't the same. I've never actually gotten drunk at work before, just a little som'n-som'n here and there.
oh, update on PsychoBoy from the other night: I found out later that he is the ex-boyfriend of this girl I know & really is a crazy fucker. Apparently a couple of weeks ago he was having a party at his house & his then-girlfriend (different girl from the one I know) wasn't paying enough attention to him or something, so he went into his room and started lighting things on fire. Yeah. His perception of the event is that I clocked him in the ear. Hello, psychotherapy.