Hustling takes Ambition

Im back at Blush, what can I say, um I’m a clean hustla. I play where the clean hustlas play.


Stripping is starting to bother me. I love what I do but when you don’t have a goal, you feel like wasted space. Wasted time. Wasted piece of human being. Before I continue, I am bipolar and have PTSD. I say “I am bipolar because these last few years, my disease has been running my life. I have not been able to control it to where I have and live with it.

Anyway my money from dancing goes into treating my disease. Not drugs, but small things to keep me somewhat functioning. Getting by, temporary, small, purposeless things. Instead of having a goal like going to college, or buying a house, or making a business plan, my goal is to get through the next 24 hours productively.

I feel like I’ve lost my ambition. I can’t wait to start traveling and stripping. I feel like this will make me ambitious again because I will need to make money. I miss the fire in wanting to be the best ME.

Dozing , goodnight


Cheerleaders Pittsburgh, Pa

IMG_20140313_182904Okay, first of all, this club makes me feel like an independent contractor. My shift started at 7. Nobody cared if I was late on the floor, as long as I didn’t miss my set, there was no late fee. Another plus, there is no pressure to make a schedule. They rather you call in, then you call off. They understand that dancers travel so your not expected to be there every week. You are renting time, and rooms at the club. Very well laid out contract. They do not turn us in to the IRS (some clubs do, be careful ladies). They only suggested that you file your taxes.

Now from the customer’s standpoint, this club is fun size. Big enough to have a few bachelor parties going on. Small enough that you feel comfortable and relaxed to spend money. No pressure, just know that the girls will politely excuse themselves to find the next guy willing to pay for a good time. So if you don’t want a dance, tip her and she will stay. If you can’t afford to buy her a drink, and tip her JUST TIP HER. The set up is clean, private and comfortable. Meaning the lap dance area. I didn’t do an hour room yet but those rooms are individual, and have a t.v. This club is topless so I have an advantage with my 32DDDs. Though don’t be upset gentlemen, every dancer has the choice to take off her thong in vip. And I will, in half an hour, and hour rooms. 😉

The cab service is the same as my other club, same good ol Kevin. He has to be a millionaire cab driver. He runs a timed hustle. Every dancer at the top three clubs go through Kevin’s cab service. I respect his hustle!

I’m not there for the girls, and the girls aren’t there for me. No animosity, that’s just how they carry themselves. I also, heard the club makes sure customers have enough to spend before they can come in the club. Yes! I hope this is true. It’s one thing to get turned down a lap dance, its another thing if they can’t afford it.

Which brings me to pricesss. Couch Dances
$25 a song/ $15 entertainer pockets,
Champagne Room
$125 15min./ $60 entertainer pockets,
$226 30min./ $125 entertainer pockets
$441 an hour/ $250 entertainer pockets

Unless you are doing an hour room its smarter to the couch dances per song because the entertainer makes 3/5. In the champagne rooms the dancer keeps 1/2, unless it’s the hour. Dancer pockets close to 3/5 again. (This math is being done in my head. Sorry if I’m a little off).

I’m going to Washington dc this weekend to visit my family before I start my travels. They do not know that I’m a dancer or that I am about to travel and I keep it that way to protect my mother’s heart. She lives her life as a Pentecostal, so she is definitely not a fan of the “secular” world.

My next blog will be: Things I don’t do around my Mother, and A General Review on Blush Gentleman Club (the one I quit).

No Friends in This Business

IMG_20140305_025531The word friend I don’t trust it nor its definition. People say there are good friends and bad friends. A simple definition for friend is someone you know, like and trust. So if a friend betrays your trust, how can /she be your friend? Or now I guess you lump them into the category “bad friend.”

Having a friend means you are submitting your emotions and lifestyle to be vulnerable to another human being. And regardless of the outcome, good or bad, you are willing to commit to the relationship. I’m not afraid of the being a friend, or being let down. I just don’t believe its worth the time or energy. Some people are in your life for a season or a lifetime. But I cant let anyone steal chapters of my life. Selfish? I know. Now your thinking “that explains it.”

I know you agree with me on some levels. Let’s be honest friendship takes sacrifice, annoying sacrifices. Example #1: In high school, there’s always those group of girls that followed you e to the bathroom. And you really wanted to take a shit ALONE (obviously). So you don’t go, you just put on some lip gloss and ask to go to the bathroom during class. What a shitty sacrifice. Literally. Example #2 happens alllll the tiiiiime: You want to go to the bar, your friends wants to hit the club, or strip club. So everytime you go out your night isn’t exactly as you want it to go. And at the end of the night, not everyone gets laid or theres the one friend that gets trashed and now your babysitting. So typical. I’m so free of that kind of responsibility. Thats right, I’m living the life.

Which is brings me to the highlight of Sunday night. I was so pissed at the wasted efforts of the night. When I fail, my body pays for it. I exercise for hours. One of the experienced dancers told me she didn’t mind showing me some pole tricks to work on. I
thought it was strange that another dancer would stay an hour after work to help me step my game up. Hustlers don’t help other hustlers when they have the same hustle. Not if your a true “go-get-er” (which I’m learning right now is not a word).
There is a such thing as stripper etiquette but this is a cut throat business. Time is money. I’m willing to pay, because I live this concept every day. Though sometimes I exchange time for knowledge, I couldn’t understand why she did it the reciprocal. Maybe she’s used to being a friend. Maybe she’s used to making annoying sacrifices. An hour after a horrible night shift instead of cuddling with her boo. Then she gave me a bottle of grip powder for my hands. Like she wanted me to do good, even if it risked being better than her. All I know is, she reminded me of an older sister that night. Something like a friend. Too bad I don’t have those. Not anymore