Some Days You're Hot.....

And then then there are other days. Yesterday would have been one of those days.
I'm persistent if nothing. And so I will pick myself up, dust myself off and get back on the ride.
I've gotten the worst of the week over with already and only have one way to go from here.
Never underestimate the power of a positive attitude and a powerfully high pair of kick-ass stripper shoes...

Missing Time

I miss being able to afford the luxury of time. Time with my family. Time to be able to work on my own project.
My own project is so close to being completed. Just some little tweaks here and there that should be done. Things I'd like redone. Still shoots for the box cover. Promotional headshots. Website construction. It's frustrating to see the roughdraft. It looks so great, even the first time around. So close.
But I need to work. Need to keep money coming in. I'm happy to be able to do that for them for a change. And so I keep on shakin' it.

Off the Grid

So I've been gone this week. Neither here nor there. Needing to take care of things. Needing to take care of my family as I can. It's back to the club tonight. I hope my knees have been able to benefit from the rest they've had. I wonder if it's a genetic thing I've inherited from my mother's brittle bones or if it's simply that I'm no longer as young as I'd like to think that I am at times. I remember hating doing deep-knee bends even in school as a child. All the more reason to keep doing them (says the masochist....No pain, no gain....Mwahaaaaa.....).

Learning The Ropes

I've come to understand how to deal with the shoe issue better. It helps to bring two pairs of shoes. Let one pair wear on you for a while and, if they should begin to hurt your feet in some place, put on the other pair that wrap around the feet in another place. I actually haven't had to do that though. I worked last night. My second "weekend night", from 6pm to 3am. And, aside from having lost a little feeling in the bottom of my left foot for several days now, my feet are pretty good today. It's my knees that are the problem. All that glucosamine isn't enough. When I've been on my feet for a while and I go to do a squat...you know...the little sexy poses with hands on the knees...I've found that coming back up doesn't always feel quite as...sexy...as going down. So I've propped pillows under my knees this morning while I have my latte and am giving my bones some much needed tlc. I'm seeing and feeling the benefits of this exercise already. It's been amazing on the top of the thigh muscles. Doing yoga always benefited my upper body (among other places) without it ever feeling like work. And the results were apparent and amazing. But any lower body work seemed like, well, work. And I was lazy. This job has been good for me in that I'm paid to work my tail off. I've dropped most issues I have with my ass. Now that I've had as many men (even some women) giving such positive feedback on it when I'm up there shaking my tail feathers and have gotten tipped so handsomely, I realize it may not actually be as bad as I'd thought. Quite the contrary. I could do worse.

"As Seen In Porn"

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Showtime Sunday

It's Sunday morning. The one morning I've allowed myself to sleep in. And, naturally I'm unable to. The rest of the house still sleeps. I'm so envious of that. It almost makes me unreasonably angry enough to want to start banging things around in the kitchen, opening drawers and stuff. Why is that? Selfish, I know. And so I sit quietly, hoping that one day I'll be able to sleep so well. One day...

But that day is not today. And I'm back to work this evening. It's the first night shift for me. If I work three days I get to work on the weekend nights. That's where the money is. But the place is also stuffed to capacity with girls at night. True, LOTS more clients; buts also A LOT more glamazons. They're these waif-like gazelles. All mermaid hair, bronzed skin, and slammin' bodies...just gliding/strutting effortlessly in these impossible shoes. I disappear among them. I'm hoping I'll instead maybe stand out from them to even just one or two generous clients.

Looking like this doesn't come for free either. I was given a schedule of themes for each day. If you don't show up in the proper attire for the day, you don't get to work. Many of them are "long dress" days. Now, believe it or not, I don't own long dresses like the ones they're speaking of. These long dresses could hardly constitute for a dress anywhere but in a club like this (okay, or maybe Caliente from what I've heard; but that doesn't count since it ends up being taken off there as well). No, these are long dresses made of the very thinnest, bounciest fabric. Sometimes it is only two pieces of one-ply lace panels stitched together at the shoulders. Convenient for easy and quick removal. A gal needs to consider things like quick removal, whether she can wiggle it down instead of over the head (some gals can easily get away with this when they have great long hair that they whip around anyway; so it doesn't matter. Mine gets messed up) if the "bra" is going to show and, if it is, if it's going to ruin the look of the dress. So much to consider. For such cheap little fabric, these things are pretty expensive. I know this because the new Audrey has to look at prices now (ugh...). And the shoes...don't even get me started on the shoes. I'll be taping my feet up for protection tonight. Just another little trick I've picked up in the dressing room back stage. Boy am I getting an education back there.

Smoke and Mirrors

So it's been a rather interesting week, to say the least. I've actually come to enjoy the dancing. Mind you, it helps to have one fine, kick-ass d.j who tunes into my style and takes care of me when it comes to my feature dances. So much fun, even when the place is dead. I work during the day; so it's a toss-up. Although I met a wonderful man who can slay me with his taste in sharp dressing. It was all worth it in working yesterday. Some days are winners, some days....well....not so much....Maybe my dashing, prince charming traveling man will visit me again as promised. All in all it's been an interesting experience. I've made some intersting friends...Both clients as well as co-workers. And I count myself lucky for that.
When it's terribly slow, I enjoy dancing in front of the mirrors. I find it sexy; but it also makes for good practice. Hey, I'm getting pretty damn good at this....
Now, as for the lost voice. If only I could sneak in there and plant some massive air filters......

Martini and Macaroni

That's what I'm having. It's 11pm. I'm tired. I've stood on my feet in those damn shoes since around 3pm today. Yep, that's right. I'm in. So not only did I pass the "audition"/amateur night contest...; but I placed 3rd. A hundred bucks. Not bad for an old gal who was only there to get a job. Especially considering I am (by far) the oldest dancer that place has. When I say by far I mean the "old gal" has been up to this point thirty-two. Ha!
There were five of us "amateurs" up there last night. I think the next oldest must have been my new best gal pal "Lisa", who's twenty-eight. She's swell. A really sweet girl. Almost seemed too sweet for this business; but proved that wrong when she kicked ass on her first day alone. I could learn a thing or two from the "amateur".....I think she and I will stick together.
I feel like a zombie. Came in last night/this morning at 2:45. The house was still and asleep without me. All except my cat Dwen. She loves the smell of cigarette smoke. It's like catnip to her. She jumped me when I came in the door. Tonight was no exception. I had to strip in the garage and leave everything in there. She kept headbutting me all night as I slept on the sofa (or tried to the couple of hours left).
I've got to work on my agression techniques. It's out of character for me to ask a guy if he wants a dance. I'm used to guys asking me if I want to dance. This is all very strange. I'm going back to my macaroni (before it goes cold) and my martini (before it goes warm).

Catwalk Buffet

So my new friend, Britney, who works at the entrance told me that the only way to get in is through Amateur Night. It's held each week, conveniently on Tuesday nights of all nights. My pole anxiety was eased a little when I was told they don't have poles. They have what looks like a catwalk but with overhead bars for the girls to hold onto overhead while they do their dancing and grinding. Convenient...Something to hang onto so I don't fall off the very narrow looking little catwalk while I'm grinding my ass away. "And thongs must be two fingers width across in the back." Too bad I couldn't wear full-butt ruffled panties. I've so got that sassy vintage thing working for me. Much cuter. Way sexier. "Oh and you'll need full pasties". Ouch. Now that's a crying shame. See for those of you who haven't actually seen them, my boobs are tops. Really spectacular. And to even cover up the wee nipples...well, it's just not releasing them in their full-on glory. But, okay whatever.
It looks much like a buffet. The way it's shaped, and with those brass bars.... Guess that would make us the meat of the feast. Hm? I spoke to another girl who's danced there for sometime. A pretty, red-haired girl. They're both so, so young. What on earth would make me think anyone would want to look at my old butt up there? But the next thought is that I've got a responsibility. And maybe that's why there are other girls my age who are out there doing this. Seems there are people who want to see them. I mean, they're getting jobs. I have to. It's not like I could eat or sleep anyway. What else would I be doing at midnight?

Decisions

So things aren't exactly looking up financially. I may go back down south for another "tour of booty" as I prefer to call them. I've enjoyed working with the photographer I've been working with on my own projects (okay, so...even if they haven't made money just yet). It's the creative freedom I've enjoyed (yes, actually enjoyed). That and working with my own male talent *smirk*.
But going down there....It's a completely different world. Can't even be compared to what I've been doing. No control. There's no control over anything at all.
It did manage to pay a nice chunk of the bills and the property insurance. It was nice to be able to contribute for once. He's always been the provider.
I suppose I'm fortunate that we have the sort of relationship that allows for such work. He's upset that I've considered going again. Not because of jealousy. That would be the first thing that would come in the way of the typical relationship (maybe...I'm no authority on the subject of what's typical); but more concerned about my emotional state. I worry a lot and lost too much weight on my last trip from too much worrying. God, just thinking about it and suddenly I've no appetite. Who needs diet pills?
If only I could work that stripper pole I have (and weren't so clumsy and didn't hate my ass in a thong) I'd go apply at a dance club instead. Sure, I'm no spring chicken; but hey, I've got a few credentials. Do they sell insurance for erotic dancers? Oh wait, I can't even afford the insurance I already have.

Audrey's Slideshow

Gotta' Start Somewhere

Okay, so...um..hello world. Or rather, those few of you who might care to read. So what has motivated me to begin my blog today of all days? No, not because it's the day of Superbowl (go Pats!) and all of you who know me will know it's not exactly because it's Sunday and "Sunday is the day to give praise". (Oh, don't worry, we'll get to the fun topic of Audrey and religion).

I got a phone call from my father last night. Now whenever he phones and I see his name come up on my caller i.d., it's a little bracing. But I have to answer. He's dying. Although he'll never tell you that. He's lived in a state of denial for at least what is my entire life. I think, perhaps, considering what all he's been through and the fact that he's now seventy-seven years old, perhaps it's best if that's what soothes him into sleep at night. Sleep...mmm....envy....

So he phoned to tell me that my cousin had been shot and killed the night before (Friday night). I believe he was around my husband's age, forty-five. On his way home from work Friday, he was boxed in at a light (one car in front and one in back). They carjacked and robbed him. Why did they have to shoot and kill him too? I have vague memories of him; but I do remember his younger brother. He and I would play together when we would visit Arkansas to see my father's family. When I look back on my life, those times I spent with that part of my family are the best times I recall from childhood. I have enough bad ones; so when I lose something from that special place, it just reminds me that I can never go back to being a child. Besides, if being allowed a do-over means that you'd be doomed to live the same life you already have, then it's not so much a do-over as maybe another life sentence to some of us, isn't it? I don't have many regrets, it's just that I've already been there and bought the t-shirt. So...no thanks. Life can feel so short when times are tough. But in the time it takes for only one phone call, I gain a new perspective.

I'm also writing because I have more than one writer friend who's told me that I should start writing about my life. "You can't write better fiction than this, Audrey"...."You wouldn't have to even change anything; because nobody would believe it all anyway"....True, my life has had enough plot twists and turns to induce whiplash and has been plenty juicy. Scandalous indeed. But is what I have to say interesting enough for anyone to want to read? I guess I gotta' start somewhere. And so I will blog.