Saturday night!
Guess who came back to see me tonight?
That guy.
*slams head into bar*
Lucky for me, another dancer, L, went to sit with him before he could request me.
But! As I went around for my tips:
Me=Ta da!
L=Other dancer-girly
C=Customer
Me=*dancedancesmilesmile* Hi again!
C=*starestare, tiptipyay*
Me=Thank you!
C=*turns to L* Hey *L*, know what?
L=What?
C=THIS girl *points at me* is a straight up BITCH.
L=o___O? Nooo she isn't. Why do you say that?
C=Cuz she told me it was MY fault my girl left me.
L=*tilts head* But...it was your fault.
C=*flustered, angry*
I lol'd.
Me=Just got a tattoo on Tuesday
My Neck=The recently tattooed area
The Jerk=Had lots of tattoos himself, so I figured he knew better
Me=*goes around for tips to The Jerk*
TJ=*first words out of his mouth to me* NO TATTOOS?!
Me=Fishsticks! No, I have one on my back, and one brand new one on my neck.
TJ=OOOH OOOH CAN I SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?
Me=*somewhat amused* Sure. But the one on my neck is new, so it's still healing. *turns around*
TJ=*suddenly grabs me by the back of the neck*
My Neck=*FUCKING OW*
Me=*turns body and smacks his arm away* DUDE. BAD.
TJ=WHAT I CAN'T TOUCH IT
Me=No. Nobody touches my neck. Aside from the artist, with a needle.
TJ=I AM A TATTOO ARTIST!!!11 (seriously, if this guy chats online, that's probably how)
Me=Then you should know better.
TJ=*grouse, gripe, tip*
Me=*goes to wash it and put MORE stupid ointment on it T_T*
Saturdays seem to be date night.
We had almost as many women as men in the bar. Which I'm fine with.
Provided the women aren't douchebags, of course.
Ladies, going to a titty bar just to sneer at the girls and put on airs does not make you cool. No, it really doesn't. It embarrasses the man you came with. And it tends to piss us off.
If you have such serious self-confidence issues that you can't even appreciate watching the show YOU WILLINGLY SUBJECTED YOURSELF TO, don't come to a titty bar.
If you have such serious trust issues with your man that him giving a pretty lady a dollar for dancing her ass off causes you to turn into a screaming harpy (nearly driving our sweetest dancer to tears), get therapy. Or a new boyfriend. Whichever.
But don't you fucking dare take out your insecurities on women who are just doing their jobs, a job you knew they'd be doing when you agreed to come.
I have said it before, and I will say it again-it is not wise, nor healthy, to go out of your way to anger a horde of muscular women who wear weapons on their feet.
Just sayin'.
But thanks-
To the appreciative gentleman near the door for tipping well and chit-chatting for a bit;
To the middle aged man in with his friends who also tipped well and complimented us all profusely;
And to the non-douchebag women tonight (both of you) for being absolute sweeties.