Mixtapes for Hookers


Last Night A Stripper Named Juicy Told Me I Was A Fucking Hippie.
January 8, 2011, 2:59 pm
Filed under: personal | Tags: , , ,

The plan last night was to hang out and eat soup with my friend Ben, who lives on the East Side of town.  I, a carless wanderer, was on the West Side of town feeding my boyfriend’s cat while he is away.  Will, a third party, said he’d give me a ride and to call him when I was ready.  I called my mom, I called my boyfriend, and then my phone died, because I am terrible at this living in this century and forgot to charge it.  The charger was at my house.  I didn’t take my laptop with me.  I had fallen off the grid.

But what the heck, I thought.  I’ll just walk over and surprise them!
About a block away from my boyfriend’s house I decided it was cold, and that things would be better if I just had a Manhattan to, you know, warm me.  So I did that.

And then I thought it would be better if I stopped made a slight detour to the lesbian karaoke bar where I had forgotten my hat and gloves on Wednesday after my not-great performances of Berlin’s “No More Words” and Miley Cyrus’ “See You Again.”  And, while I was there, I thought I would have a beer.  A Budweiser.  I don’t even like Budweiser, unless it’s in a container that’s shaped like a bowling pin.  (Then it is okay.)  But I thought I would have a quick one and then get my soup on.  But instead I ended up making a bunch of new 8pm-at-the-lesbian-bar friends.

There was:

a) A very talkative drunkard who won’t eat chicken unless it comes from Popeye’s.  I gave him directions, per his request, to a bar that hasn’t existed since about 2002.

b) A lady named Evelyn who told me that I was nice, that I had an old soul, and that she wanted me to go with her to karaoke.  (I was tempted, I admit.)

c) A bartender who was kind of really hot in a dirty old fisherman sort of gay bartender way.

d) Mike.

Mike was pretty nice, if slightly tipsy.  I paid three dollars to put three songs on the electronic jukebox thing (“Disco 2000,” “Y Control,” and I actually don’t remember the first one) and Mike seemed to not hate them.  I went outside to smoke a Marlboro Menthol, my January cigarette, and when I came back Mike introduced me to his new friend Beth, who had just walked in.  Beth really liked me, in that insecure-ish I-only-hit-on-the-gays way.  But she offered to give me a ride!

By that time I was very, very late for my friend’s house, and I was several drinks in (Mike and Beth like buying other people drinks, it turns out!)  And a ride sounded nice.

Flash forward twenty minutes and somehow, I don’t know how, really, we’re at the Cadillac Lounge.  I paid $30 for Mike and me to get in, and then I’m drinking gin and fighting off the stripper ladies.

I’d never actually been to a strip club on a Friday night before.  It’s kind of intense!  There were pretty ladies and not-so-pretty ladies and the room was full of hot dudes with boners.  Also one of the security guys was a security guy at my old job!

I am really bad at strip clubs, in the sense that I have no illusions about what is happening.  I know that my income is not so disposable and also that ladies don’t really get my juices flowing.  So when a dancer named Juicy asked me if I wanted to sit down with her, I told her that I wasn’t interested.

“You don’t like black girls,” she said, in a flat and accusatory way.

“No, I do,” I said.  (She actually was really pretty, although she was wearing crazy bright blue contacts that made her look slightly evil.  But, you know, maybe some guys are into that?)  “I just… I think that probably you’d be better off with somebody else,” I explained, which seemed more polite than “I’M POOR AND GAY AND DON’T KNOW WHY I’M HERE OR HOW I’M GETTING HOME.”  And then she called me a fucking hippie and stormed away.

That’s actually the last thing I remember, pretty much–oh, actually I also remember being weirded out when “Whip My Hair” came on–until I woke up this morning in my boyfriend’s bed.  I immediately had a Grace Jones dance party, realized that if I wasn’t very hungover then I was probably still drunk, and made my way out for an emergency black bean burger topped with a fried egg and potato sticks.  It’s one of my favorite lunches, but it’s also a really good hangover food, it turns out.

And, in one fell swoop, there go all my New Year’s resolutions about eating out less, saving money, and not being a drunk.


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