Setting aside that my family seems to think I work in a striptease bar (which I dont) and that this will lead me down the road of decadence, another Saturday has come (and gone), with more gorgeous girls and some nakedness, I admit.
I put on my suspenders (I do expect some comments about my general hotness. I’m in a dark place these days, I need some comforting), my black tie and Jack London shoes. And I get ready for some good hours at The 86 (which, if you people have been horrible friends and not reading my posts, is where I currently work).
Have I said how much I enjoy working in a bar? Getting free drinks from the bartenders, from cider to cocktails, filming the shows (from the back of the stage! So enjoyable being the curtain boy). Tis the life. Pay isn’t all that great, but I love the place. Does remind me a bit of another place that I worked (Yume), it’s life waning for no apparent reason (so bring your friends and drink yourself crazy).
See, it’s not all tits and naked women. It can be lovely cabarets as well. This does remind me of a story from the other week, when one of the girls had to end her act earlier because the cloths were coming off her skin. And she commented “I mean, if I continued I might as well be a stripteaser”. In my mind, I failed to see the gross difference between the two. Hah.
A bit of a short post, it would seem. In the meanwhile, my hamstrings hurt like hell from acrobatics, I’ve passed my exams, enrolled in for courses next semester, and all I do with my life is write applications for internships – the most dreadful activity in this world. That and baking cakes. Is what I do. Not saying baking is dreadful. God, such a horrible universe that would be.