Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Senior Citizen Stripper: Bush: Then & the present, (and I'm not talk'in ex...

Senior Citizen Stripper: Bush: Then & the present, (and I'm not talk'in ex...: When I started dancing in 1982, I had a boyfriend. He was cool with the dancing and didn't create any kind of drama about it. My problem ...

Bush: Then & the present, (and I'm not talk'in ex-presidents)



When I started dancing in 1982, I had a boyfriend.  He was cool with the dancing and didn't create any kind of drama about it.  My problem with him (or at least one of the problems) was that he was reluctant to go down on me.

I didn't say anything for a while for this is not a huge requirement for me, but it's nice every now and then.  Finally, I asked why.  He said my pussy was MENACING!!  MENACING??!!  Wow, this made me feel like I had some sort of monster down there.

So, at my club at work, nobody ever said anything about it.  My income was decent,but I wasn't exactly top earner.  At this point, I had been there for a couple of months.  I finally asked the manager his opinion.  (This is still the Pink Poodle, a nude club).  He was honest and said my vaginal area was so dark and hairy that nobody could really see my vagina, not even my outside lips!

This was perplexing to me since none of my boys before this had ever complained.  I didn't have many girl friends (I was sort of a chubby, geeky-cute girl.  It was not cool to be a geek in the late 70's/early 80's.  So my so-called hot girl-friends didn't really want me around when they went trolling clubs for good marriage material) and with girls who had nothing to do with sleazy strip clubs, that last thing they would discuss was how they kept their vaginas.  Hell, we didn't even say the word "vagina" in those days!

Therefore, my manager was the only one I could really ask.  I took his advice and started shaving the outsides and trimmed everything else.  Good advice: my income went up & I got a lot more oral sex.

This would work for me well into the mid-nineties where I then went to the "landing strip".

Then around '03, I worked in a nude club briefly in LA.  I didn't get bad comments, but I did get comments like "Wow, you still have hair down there".  ??   Oh and a really amazing comment " If you didn't have all that hair, you would be easier to eat". Oh, really??!!   That comment was also in a club and there was no way in hell, this guy was ever going to get that close anyway:-(  Again, none of the dancers said anything to me or management.  I don't think these comments were meant to be insulting.  There was just a new va-jay-jay fashion thing happening.

So I became hip to women getting waxed COMPLETELY, lasered or just shaving the entire area. These were not just dancers, but my friends from IRL (as they call it on stripperweb.com) I decided to take the shaving route.  This works for me.

I'm very aware of tattoos on the mound, in the nineties I met a girl with around 9 piercings on, in and around her vaginal area (and she wasn't even a dancer) and the blingy vagazzling.  Not to mention anal bleaching.

Did I mention I haven't worked nude for years??

I am happy with a shave and a trim, thank you very much.
-- 

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Senior Citizen Stripper: And here is what's happening presently

Senior Citizen Stripper: And here is what's happening presently: I found out I am going to be in an acrobatic recital on March 31st. I've been training harder and setting up more mirrors in my small studi...

And here is what's happening presently

I found out I am going to be in an acrobatic recital on March 31st.  I've been training harder and setting up more mirrors in my small studio.  I'm exited but exhausted.


Worked last night and it turns out a few of the girls have colds.  I felt a bit run down yesterday.  I am so afraid to get another cold.  My last one lasted for over 3 weeks.  It was horrible but I refused antibiotics. It came back a week later.  Not as intense, but it was still there.  However, I lost valuable time.  I had planned to have my holiday shopping done by the first week of November.  I hardly worked the month of November.  Somehow, I got it done the week before the 25th.  The holidays were stressful.  I can't afford to get one while training.  Why don't the sick bitches stay home like I did.


Also, my main regular came in to see me.  He is older and has diabetes, so he can't drive.  He lives close to the club, so I give him rides home.  He suggested we go get Mexican food after I got off work.  There is a place across the street from my club.  
(When I get off work, I usually don't even like to stop to eat.  I feel so dirty.  But if I do, I want to wind down.  I don't like going anywhere trendy.).


So, it turns out Don Diego's #2 the place to be on a Friday night.  Shit!  This place is fairly small.  It was twice as loud as the music in my club.  And It Was Playing The Same Damn Music!!!  It gets worse.  It was Karoke night.  We got the last empty table.  Lots of people came in when we were ready to leave at 11:30.  The waitresses were frantic, some people drunk, the guacamole was fresh and this place was rockin' LOUD!


Who would have ever thought it?  It's just not for me.

Friday, January 20, 2012

Why the Pink Poodle??

I realize that I haven't written in a week.  My resolution was to write something everyday.  I think in order for this to work for me, I have decided to alternate each day: one day write something from my past, the next in present tense.  This will be a "past day".


So, why the Pink Poodle in San Jose?  There are a few reasons. 1.) Ever since I was around 9 yrs. old I wanted to be a go-go dancer.  My parents had me enrolled in tap classes, some ballet and we had folk dancing (lol, right?) at my grade school.  However, these didn't last.  Both of my parents were working professionals and for some reason, they seemed to hire nannies that couldn't drive. So no more dance classes por moi.  Instead, I would practice in my room in front of the mirror.  My dad watched a show called "Laugh-In".  They had go-go dancers on it between sketches, like in Austin Powers.  One of the dancers was Goldie Hawn.  I wanted to be her when I grew up.  2.) Dancing made me happy.  I also knew it would keep me fit.  My dad was/is over weight and always seemed so unhappy and grouchy.  At a fairly young age, he started to look like the nerdy guy from "Office Space".  (The one who ended up getting his office moved to the basement).  In my young mind, I equated being out of shape, slovenly and over-weight with unhappiness.  I was determined not to be fat and unhappy.  3.) Sometimes on weekends, we had family excursions.  This would consist of going to some fast food place for dinner and then the drive-in (yes, drive-in) for a film with scratchy sound.  We would always drive past the Pink Poodle.  I was fascinated by the sign.  Why did it say "girls" or "adult entertainment"?  What was the difference between entertainment for kids and adults?  I asked my parents once and my dad was really mad and just said I was too young and wouldn't understand:-(  (My grandmother, his mom, was "married" around 8 times and died apparently from choking from being too drunk and sick at the age of 42.  I was 5 when she passed.  She was nice to me.  But, yes dad has understandable issues).


But the main reason was 4.):  Sexual harassment in the work place and not being able to find a job in the field of my choice.


The first college I went to was a fashion trade school.  I think I had ADD when I was younger ( still do, but more under control) but at that time, this condition was not recognized.  I graduated, but not with honors.  The job placement program was not the greatest and my jobs were more like temporary gigs.  So I moved back to Los Angeles and pushed my resumes in the garment district for jobs in showrooms.  I landed more than one.  My first one, my boss tried so hard to get me to sleep with him.  He even showed me a polaroid of his penis!  (This guy was so not attractive: he was a short, chubby, hairy gnome in his mid-forties.  I was 20).  I did learn things from him.  But finally, he left me to run the showroom for a week while he went to Vegas to sell cocaine.  Yeah, he offered me drugs too.  


While he was gone, I stole the petty cash and the office supplies I needed to find a better job.  I did find one that lasted for well over a year.  A company out of Australia.  They were great, but the business didn't last.  They were a young company (my boss was 25) and all of them were heavily into the hollywood party scene.  They never tried to pay me in drugs, but I was offered all the time.  This combined with the pressure to stay thin in the fashion industry, fueled my recreational addiction that would last for nearly 8 years.


After that came a lot of short term show room jobs.  One guy wanted to pay me in cocaine.  Yeah, like I can pay my rent with that.  Another wrote me checks that bounced.  So this glamourous field I choose was just full of buttheads that sexually harassed me, trying to cheat me out of money and there was nothing I could really do about it.


I moved back up north to transfer to a state college and finish a business degree and minored in theater.  I really wanted to get into radio at the time, but it was hard.  It was still a boys club and I wasn't traditionally cute enough to break through.  I tried getting jobs at record stores (CD's wouldn't be out for a couple of years) but I couldn't get hired.  Not even with a degree!  So, back to fashion.  Teaching at Barbizon Modeling School.  (Don't laugh).


I actually liked it there and made some great friends and learned some cool stuff.  But...it was part time.  I was living at home and my younger sister made my life hell.  Her boyfriend had a scholarship to Humbolt.  His mom drank a lot, so my dad took pity on him and let him move in.  He got MY ROOM!!  He was also pretty religious.  Which made my little sister religious.  She wouldn't speak to me and I had to share a room with her.  One night she locked me out!


Ok, so I got this part-time job, which won't pay me enough to get out of my parent's house.  I would love to get another job, but nobody else would hire me.  The Pink Poodle was starting to look like a possibility.  (I'm not sure if I mentioned it in one of my other blogs, but I had a temp job in which I was just filing and had to wear panty hose and nobody would talk to me.  Then one of my full time co-workers got into an accident and went into a coma.  This was another reason for the poodle.  Oh and the seemingly awesome temp job I got in a wherehouse as a receptionist.  Apparently, my temp boss did not like my "New Wave" sense of fashion, so he gave me a bad review and I was replaced.  In reality, I was a very good worker.  One of my friends there was an aspiring writer.  We came from the same temp agency.  My name came up, and he was told by one of the temp managers, that apparently my work performance was so bad, that I was a bad hiring choice.  He told them the truth about me.  I started getting more calls from the agency, but by that time, I was making bank at the PP!)

Thursday, January 12, 2012

And from the past to the present

So I have been a member of a pole dancing studio since last June.  The owners really wanted me to perform in their fall recital that was last October.  I really wanted to do it.  I took the month of July off to help my man market his film which had a theatrical opening in August.  When I went back to class in the end of August, rehearsals for this recital had already began and I wasn't asked to be in it again. In hindsight, I should have spoke up and asked to jump into rehearsals.  But I was new to the studio and wasn't sure how things worked.


So fast forward, I've been training hard to get into the April recital. I had a chance to be on the team of this amazing acrobat.  It turns out the recital is on the same weekend that I will be in Coachella.  For anyone who has been to Coachella, if you're not camping, it's advisable to book your hotel room or whatever way in advance.  Your tickets as well.  This has sold out so quickly in the past.


So, I don't want to put the pressure on my man to sell the tickets/VIP passes.  I just feel like there is some sort of force telling me I am not suppose to perform professionally.  Just in strip clubs.


I'm glum, but I'll somehow get over it.  But you all know how old I am.  I'm a remarkable pole performer, but in reality, how long will my body sustain this kind of strength and energy?  I know there are some competitions coming up, but I'm not sure if my skills are up to compete with the big girls.  Maybe I can start a senior citizen pole division within the competitions?  Hmm.....

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Going back to the Poodle 3 Weeks Later..

When I left after my audition.  I went back to my temp job.  It was so boring.  I was filing.  As in old school filing; no computer-just big stacks of paper.  I recall one of the young female workers at this office who was going somewhere exiting for the weekend.  She seemed really happy.  (Being a temp, nobody really spoke with me, so I just listened in on her convo with somebody else.  Who also wasn't a temp).


I came back the next Monday.  She had been in a car accident and was in intensive care and in a coma.  This was a wake up call for me.  Here I was at 23, not being able to find a job in my field (fashion) that paid anything, having parents worried that I wasn't going to be married before 30, having to wear nude panty hose to work (YUCK!) and working in a place where nobody spoke to me and I was getting paper cuts.


This drove me back to the Poodle.  The manager Sid, an light skinned black man with green eyes in his 50's with a Barry White kind of voice, remembered me.  This was a game to him.  He made me wait an hour before I had to audition...AGAIN! It was like I had to earn my spot there.  I figured he thought I was desperate , so I had to compete for a spot in that dingy club.   I remember some of the girls there: Starla, who had this beautiful white girl, angel face.  She wasn't quite punk rock, but more of a glam rock left over (this was1982, remember ).  Her body wasn't the greatest,but she was nice and rattled on about being a back ground singer for some famous rock band.  Then Cheri: A tall awkward, Latina mix.  She had crazy red curly hair, the biggest bluish green eyes I had ever seen, but her body had been botched by child birth.  Again, very sweet.  But she had this look in her eyes while dancing.  There is a Rolling Stones song called "The Girl with the Far Away Eyes".  That was Cheri while dancing.  She was somewhere else.  But she was fine while off stage.


So back to douchebag Sid, finally letting me audition and then saying that I got the job only because they were short on staff.  Back then the paid us to be there.  And we kept all our own stage tips.  It's funny, back then the idea of going home in the red was preposterous!  We all made some $$.


So I worked 3 days a week and had found another job teaching modeling school at Barbizon (don't laugh).


The Pink Poodle was owned by a family.  The last name was Kuzinich (sp?).  The dad, Pete and his two sons, owned the place.  His fat son Dave was the manager.  With their obviously Hungarian last name, they fancied themselves Italian.  As in Italian "gangsters".  This was so funny to me.  At the time, it was hip to be an Italian gangster a la' "Casino" or "Goodfellas" even though these films hadn't come out yet.


Even though I was hired, I was not liked by the management staff too much because I wouldn't give head in the office or let Sid (ick) lick my cat in the DR.  Seriously!  This cute black gay dancer, Frances, told me Sid was the best!!  She let him do this!  I remember I was dressing and he came up to me, bent over, looked at my kitty and wiggled his tongue!  I hit his head with the costume i was holding.  I didn't get fired, because it was fabric.  I secretly wish it would have been an ashtray!


One day, Pete invited me upstairs and told me I was cute enough to do some of his private parties in which I would make bundles of $$.  But, he said, I would have to become a little less "up-tight".  I told him, I was living at my parents house, I had another job, and if he tried to get me to have any kind of sex with anyone at that place, I would walk!  I told him I was a college graduate and not that desperate.  He had other girls that were willing to do that for him, he didn't need to pick on me.  He said he liked my "innocent look" and it would be a money maker.  I repeated my walk out line.  


He said fine, but I was losing out on a GREAT OPPORTUNITY. (rolls eyes). He then sent me back down stairs.  They kept me on, even though I was not on of their favorites, lol.


Somehow, his son, Dave and I got to be good friends....no sex involved.  I even got him running with me (and one of his buddies) on the par course in a park in Los Gatos!  I remember Dave telling me how he really didn't like me much at first, but I turned out to be "cool".  And I got him to drop about 5 lbs.  But it was hard, because his family were regulars at the downtown San Jose restaurant, Original Joes.  It's still there.  Old school Italian all the way.


That's it for today.  Be back soon.

Friday, January 6, 2012

Was going to write more but...

..Worked last night for the first time this year.  It's in one of the smaller clubs I work in my area.  This poor club was sold and when the new owner couldn't deal with the reality of running this club, he sold it back to the original owner, who is a big sweetheart.  However, the (new) owner had gutted the place, trying to turn a topless beer club into a nude bar; he did away with the lighting (really dark), threw out most of the furniture, including the pool table and (unbelievable) the ice machine!  They now have to go to a nearby store to get ice!


So, the big sale/new owner scared off most of their dancers.  Only a few loyal cuties remained along with certain dancers that really have no choice.  The result of this, is that even the cuties there are depressed because of lack of $$.  It's not that they are not cute, it's just that they are there ALL OF THE TIME.  Patrons get bored, cuties get bored, so patrons don't come back and cuties get way knackered!


I walked into a dressing room (a small one) with some very, very depressed cuties.  Since I have not danced there in over three weeks, everyone elses mini-depressions worked in my favor.  I had a great time, one of my regular friends was there and a youngish Hispanic guy declared me his "numero uno" and showered me with American dinero every time I hit the stage.


It wasn't what I would call huge $$, but for the first Wednesday night of the new year, it wasn't bad and I didn't have to give away 50% of my earnings.


Not a bad way to start the year for an old biotch like me.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

My plans for today

I was going to write about what happened on my return to the Pink Poodle 3 weeks after I was offered a job in 1982.


But today is my first day back to dancing for the 2012.  I woke up feeling like I have allergies, so my memory of my return day is not as clear as I want it to be.  So, I'll write in the present instead of the past.  My eyes are red and swollen.  I took a dance class that wasn't my usual pole or burlesque thing.  It was a "swaggerific" exotic dance class.  


Dancing with "swag" is basically a lot of undulating movement, but with more "bounce" than back in the day.  I use a lot of those moves anyway, since they are trendy in the club scene these days.  But this instructor's warm ups to the class just didn't make sense to me and, yeah, they kind of kicked my ass.  It was all lower body, repetitive movement and hardly any upper body stretching.


I now bounce between 3 different clubs in the Los Angeles area.  The one I'm going to today has an older crowd.  Even the younger dancers there will pull out Jimi Hendrix, Etta James or Barry White. Or classic hair bands.


It's funny.  In the 80's, I wasn't a pop fan, some funk was ok and I HATED  Foreigner!  I was that Cure, Depeche Mode, Sex Pistols, Killing Joke girl.  Ok, some Duran Duran, Berlin and Blondie.


I know "swag" and rap match.  The thing is: I like a lot of rap.  I was dancing to Run DMC and Grand Master Flash in the 80's, Snoop, Cypress Hill and Queen Latifah in the 90's (though I preferred Nirvana, Oasis and Smashing Pumpkins).


So now, I like Wiz, Lil' Wayne, Lupe Fiasco and even Ludicris.  But what makes me feel uncomfortable is the constant use of the "n-bomb".  I'm a tiny, white, blond woman and somehow, I don't feel I have the right to dance to music that drops a lot of "n-bombs".  Wiz does this a lot and so does Rashida.  It's too bad.  I dig both a lot.  Perhaps it's because my dad likes to drop the "n-bomb" in conversation when I visit him just because he knows it annoys me.  Who knows?


We have a digital juke box at this tiny club.  I'll play it safe with some Amy Whinehouse, Katy Perry and Coldplay, lol.


Are there any other dancers out there who feel the way I do?  Or disagree?

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

My first audition

My first audition was in March of 1982 at a club called the Pink Poodle in San Jose, CA.  There were no lap dances then.  We entered the stage through heavy velvet like curtains that were a reddish burgundy. Behind the curtains was the dressing room.  The dressing room has a rolling rack of costumes that were hanging on hangers.  I thought that they were provided by the club for the dancers to use while doing stage acts.  WRONG!  The dancers thought I was funny. An older dancer by the name of Diana, referred to me as being "green".  That meant total amateur, virgin, baby stripper.  I also remember her as giving her age as 28.  This scared the hell out of me.  I was 23.  She looked 40-something.  Was I going to look like that at 28??  (I was so "green" that I was gullible and believed everything people told me.  Smart, right?)

The two songs I choose (we did two song sets) was (I was so edgy, lol.  For the early 80's.), was "New Toy" by Nena Haggen and "Sex Dwarf" by Soft Cell.  

I was nervous.  I bounced around and on my second song, I perched myself on the old, neutral colored chair, put my legs up in the air and proceeded to pull my panties off.  The audience clapped and approved of my "bush".  I was really embarrassed.  I was offered a job and I declined.

I came back less than 3 weeks later.

Monday, January 2, 2012

My first blog

Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Dorien Grais.  I'm a 52 1/2 year old exotic dancer who has never had her body or face touched with surgery.  I'm a remarkable acrobatic pole dancer and love what I do. I still have clubs wanting me to work for them!  (Hard to believe, right?)  I really enjoy what I do, so instead of writing a memoir, I will be writing while working.  I'll write some historical articles, words of wisdom (well, some might think so) and just random musings.

Happy New Year to all!