tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36370312365191977692024-03-05T08:18:01.467-08:00Senior Citizen StripperDorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-74280342978460793482014-03-15T18:26:00.001-07:002014-03-15T18:26:41.762-07:00Hello 2014<br />It's been around nine months since my last post. I do apologize to the people who pop by to check out my blog.<br /><br />I've been on a different course in the last year. I became a real performer last year. I was booked to dance in night clubs and some red carpet events that had nothing to do with strip clubs. I entered my first pole fitness competition earlier this month. I went home with a bronze medal.<br /><br />Now I have accomplishments and I really don't know what to do with them. If I keep competing, I may have to chill out on my blog. It takes a lot of time and energy to compete. There is also the fact that 'pole fitness performers' really frown upon club dancers. Even if it's from their past.<br /><br />I must admit I'm in a bit of quandry. <br /><br />I also haven't worked as a dancer since Janurary. For the first time since I can remember, I'm not sure if I want to go back. It's not about my look. Since training,I'm in the best shape I've been in for years. I think it may be the scent. Yes, the bathroom in the club I work in smells like a non ventilated taco stand.<br /><br />As much as I love pole performing, the fact that a lot of my co-workers use copious amounts of body oil and lotion for the bodies and then rub it all over the pole, really scares the crap out of me! Accidents aching to happen.<br /><br />I suppose I'm lucky to have such problems as not being able to make up my mind where I want to work. Especially with our 'new world order', economically speaking.<br /><br />This will only last for so long. I really should make up my mind soon.<br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=The%20%20Unurban%20Cafe%20&z=10'>The Unurban Cafe </a></p>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-17106503108448794532013-06-24T17:20:00.001-07:002014-03-15T18:03:48.106-07:00BurlesqueI'm actually at the Unurban once again. It's been a strange week since I quit the Classy Lady the other day. I did have a wonderful time performing with the pro aerial ladies in Hermosa Beach last<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/06/24/2140.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/06/24/s_2140.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /> Saturday.<br />(Me and my friend & talented dancer Cat Cheng).<br /><br />(Also there is an angry guy who is swearing at his computer sitting across the room from me. I can hear him loud and clear. This is not cool. I may have to finish this at home:-(<br /><br />I did have an interesting audition today at an interesting little club called Burlesque. It's very deceiving from the outside. Very run down, parking sucks. But once inside, the place was dark, but spacious and very, very clean. It actually smelled clean! The vibe was very old school classy, like gentleman's club out of the 70's. Upper class mature, not trendy. This is a bikini bar. I don't believe the dancers were ready yet, as I didn't see any.<br /><br />I spoke with the manager. He liked my look,which was cool. I was dressed to go teach a girl a pole lesson. She had to cancel, so I was in yoga pants and minimal make up and a nice blown out pony tail.<br /><br />Here's the catch: he hires 'career dancers'. He wants you to work the minimum of 4 days a week. He demands this of all of his dancers. He said he was willing to go to 3 for me, yet he has no day shift on the weekends.<br /> He said he really caters to his clientele. He says that if a client calls and asks if a girl is in, he wants to be able to accommodate that person with that dancer.<br /><br />I really admire this. A guy with a solid business ideal. This won't work for me, but it was nice to end the interview on a positive note. He caught up with me outside (probably to check me out in natural light due to my advanced age:-) He was very polite and all smiles. Good for him.<br /><br />I feel good today because I actually have an idea for a small business that just might work. More of that later.<br /><br />I still owe you guys some stories of my past. <br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br /><br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=North%20Hollywood&z=10'>North Hollywood</a></p>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-87505187127974553912013-06-20T19:21:00.001-07:002013-06-20T19:21:49.876-07:00Losing It!<br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/06/20/3323.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/06/20/s_3323.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br /><br />The Unurban again.<br /><br />I managed to walk out and quit a club that I have been working in off and on since I moved to LA on Tuesday. This will be short. After having a great weekend and a solid class on Monday, I walked into work finding out that I was the only dancer working. For the entire shift! Ok,I can deal if I pace myself. Customers came in. But only a couple voluntarily tipped me or even looked at me:-( I was doing my usual bomb show: pole tricks that nobody else does, booty poppin', smiling, saying hello. But no. Did. Not. Work.<br /><br /><br />Then the bartender gets on stage. She is not one of the finer bartenders. She is a nice lady, but so am I. But she is out of shape, over weight, old (I am too, but I take care of my stuff), I think she wears a wig (she's white), she's a cancer survivor with reconstructed breasts( brutally so). But she banks. So I go up after her. NOTHING! One guy was talking to me but didn't put anything on stage. I finally just asked if I was really that hideous? Finally one guy puts a couple of bucks up there. I lost it, was in tears, walked off.<br /><br /><br />Perhaps I'm over sensitive, but I was the ONLY dancer there. No sympathy? I could have just avoided the crowd, rolled around on stage and not speak to anyone. But I chose to put effort into my show, smile and say Hi to each one. Apparently, my attractiveness level in this run down club is in the toilet. (The one all the smoking dancers smoke around). I may have insulted the bar tender in a back handed way. I'm sorry she was hit with breast cancer. I'm not saying I'm better than her because I'm healthy. But am I not at least as nice as her? As attractive?<br /><br /><br />Apparently not. I was going to leave anyway because the staff and dancers smoke in the building with no ventilation.<br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=The%20Unurban%20in%20Santa%20Monica&z=10'>The Unurban in Santa Monica</a></p>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-31083809322700162732013-05-13T17:48:00.001-07:002013-05-13T18:57:59.300-07:00Tess<br />I'm at a local cafe today called The Unurban Cafe in Santa Monica. It's really hot day. This place is so naturally dark and cavernous. Seems like it's 20 degrees cooler than my apartment.<br />I finished my last posting mentioning a dancer called Tess. I actually met her while I was still living at the 'beach'.<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/05/13/2381.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/05/13/s_2381.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad <br />(^This is part of The Unurban, btw. Never used this feature before, so I'm not sure how to place it).<br />Tess was tall, thin, fair, gorgeous and had a wild energy. Not sure how we connected so well. She must have sensed my misery and insecurities. She was sort of hiding from an abusive boyfriend. So, she would stay with me on the nights I worked late. She slept out on the beach and would hide when the Bobs got up to go to work. She was kind of manic and really liked to clean a lot. Since I hate doing that, she was great to have around.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Some time during our friendship, I got offered a gig to do a little striptease for a guy's birthday. This was for a mixed crowd. Just a little bikini show.<br />I invited Tess to go with me, so she could help me with the little details. I offered her a bit of pay to go with me. She was motivated.<br /><br /><br /><br />When I arrived at my destination, the lady who hired me was a pretty, friendly blond around 30. She was very nice and helpful. After I did my dance for this lady's friend, she invited Tess and I to hang out and enjoy the party. I was having a nice time, the people were very friendly and full of questions about my profession. Perhaps 20 minutes into the party, the blond asked if she could speak to me privately. I went to talk to her. Apparently, Tess was going crazy in the kitchen. She was opening cupboards, re-arranging items, taking them out, putting them back in. Lather, rinse ,repeat. We left the party because Tess was acting so crazy.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />When we got home, she said she was really tired. She ended up sleeping for nearly a day. The Bobs found out about her, so she wasn't allowed to crash there on a regular basis. She was very erratic. I asked her what was bothering her but she never gave me a straight answer.<br />A short time afterward, I worked an early shift at Richard's Lounge. When I arrived, Tess and Richard were having a huge argument. It was pretty heated. He actually had to throw her out of the bar. From this point on, she became very distant and moody. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br />A couple of weeks went by and I finally discovered the source of her mania. I walked in on it, actually. I was working with her. There was only one bathroom in the bar for women. It seemed she was in there for an hour. I really had to use the bathroom. I knocked and she wouldn't respond. Finally, I used the door handle, thinking it was probably locked. It wasn't. Tess was shooting up when the door opened. She looked up at me, said she would be done very soon, to please close the door and not tell anybody.<br />It's such a disarming experience, walking in on someone shooting an illegal substance into their veins. This would happen to me twice more in my lifetime. The third time, I participated. I didn't inject myself, but held on to the substance while two other people injected themselves. You don't really get used to the idea, unless you become one of the 'Train Spotting' set yourself. There is this look about them. It's like they almost become zombies. Zombies with heartbeats and pulses.It's the glazed look of their eyes, the pallor of their skin, a stillness in their demeanor.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I did my fair share of partying over the years, but the Tess Experience was enough to make me never inject myself with anything. I heard Tess went into rehab. There was another beautiful dancer that got clean and was in a relationship with Richard. He was thinking of asking her to marry him. I think her name was Raven. She looked like Snow White with Jessica Rabbit's body. That gorgeous. I don't know how it happened, but she got right back on the' white horse'. She died at 25.<br /><br /><br /><br />I went to a zombie fashion show/ art exhibit the other night. It was an extreme example, but some of them just looked like addicts of my past.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/05/13/2442.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/05/13/s_2442.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /> (Me after the Zombie exhibit/fashion show last Saturday. No far from the addicts of my past)<br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=The%20Unurban%20in%20Santa%20Monica&z=10'>The Unurban in Santa Monica</a></p>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-26665803477434958642013-05-06T20:40:00.001-07:002013-05-07T20:41:17.828-07:00Leaving Bob's Beach<br />(I'm at that awesome cafe again:-)<br /><br /><br /><br />When I left Bob and his 'beach', luckily I had some money saved. My friend and resident small time cocaine dealer, Steve helped me move. I was going to look for a small cheap studio. Steve said I could save money living in this huge house of post punk posers and artists. I had enough money to rent the master bedroom with a private bathroom. I had met most of the residents before while performing as a real dancer in San Francisco. I had hooked up with Steve when I met them. He was really into me. He was only a friend.<br /><br /><br /><br />The people I ended up moving in with were Dave, CL (short for Chicken Legs. His name was Michael), Dave's then girl friend Liz and Steve. I was to live there for the next two years. At 26, Steve was the oldest, at 25, I was next. The others were at least 21 but they referred to us as 'Mom & Dad'. This didn't help my already low self esteem. Liz was a really pretty red head and 21. She was a rich girl slumming with us. She and I were never really friends. (Until 4 years later, I ran into her crystal meth used up ass in a bar. She said I must really work hard to take care of myself because there was no way I could be older than her and look the way I did, lol.)<br /><br /><br /><br />Within that five bedroom, two living room, 4 bathroom household, we only had one land line phone between us. For the first few months there wasn't even an answering machine. This would cause a lot of problems, confusion and missed calls. I bought a machine two months later.<br /><br /><br /><br />There were two clubs in town at the time that catered to the new wave, post punk crowd. My roomies and I lived for it. I was always looked down upon, fashion wise because my hair was long, wild, frizzy and it was natural. I wasn't skinny like the emaciated or modelesque stereo type. I wanted so badly to fit in. Every Thursday night all the bathrooms in our house were busy for hours; prepping hair, goth make-up, using mirrors to admire ourselves. We lived for Thursday nights.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />But that look didn't really fly at work. It was a boom town still in Silicon Valley in the mid 80's. This little club brought in lonley engineers, meth head bikers and other locals. It was very casual. It was just starting to become a glamorous thing to be a dancer. Richard's lounge had an interesting group of dancers working there. There were sisters. Tiny women Tammi & Cathy. They were both under 5 ft. and each had very long hair, a child and lived in a hotel with black guys who were the baby daddys. (That term hadn't been thrown around yet). There were a pair of black sisters; Honesty & Panther. Both tall and attractive. Honesty was a piece of work. So insecure and a moody meth head. There was a tall, attractive Mexican/Indian looking young dancer named Liz who would be there for a long time. She was very quiet and always did her job well. Then there was Tess. Tess was gorgeous. Tall, fair, slender, around 30. For some reason Tess and I connected. Perhaps because she would listen.<br /><br /><br /><br />I will write more about Tess later .<br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=King's%20Cafe&z=10'>King's Cafe</a><br /><br />Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-82800936062678320302013-05-01T20:31:00.001-07:002013-05-01T20:31:37.970-07:00The Dance Studio<br />I have to say I do love this little cafe I'm sitting in right now. It's very tiny,King's Cafe. They have two hot baristas who work here. They also own the falafel place next door. You order your food at that place. You can either eat outside or they bring it to you in the cafe. Omar is the night time barista. Great hair! Middle Eastern mix of some sort, but hella nice. The day time guy from last year anyway was a tall,long haired Asian.<br /><br /><br /><br />The economy has hit my industry bad. I'm going to have to start working more often. Even though, in this business, that doesn't guarantee better income. My home club will let me work more often, but I'll die early working there. (That's the smoky one) I really want to continue with my poling. My goal is to compete next year. They have a masters category which is for 'old bitches' like me. 39 & up. A 62 yr. old won first place this year. She does a couple of very, very impressive tricks that I haven't even learned yet. I figure I better do it next year because of lot of current senior winners (25-39) are pushing 40! That's all I need is to have to compete with Sasha Lee, Rebecca Hennes or Leigh Acosta. (Not that they're all turning forty next year).<br /><br /><br /><br />Here's the thing: I can't work and take lessons on the same day. There is no way I could make it to my classes on time. Secondly, I just wouldn't have the energy to learn after dancing and hustling all day. I would also run the risk of injuries. I've had my fair share, but unstretched muscles, tight calves from platform heels are a recipe for disaster. Until recently, I was able to afford to just work twice a week, so I could study dance. This is not the case any more. If I quit the studio, I will never, ever again find pole classes for less than $10 a class. ( I pay $100 for 12). I need to keep this going. This place has some of the best instructors in the industry teaching and I can get there by taking side streets.<br /><br /><br />I've decided to take three classes a week, all in one day. I already know that I can work out three hours a day with no problems. I usually take two classes when I come to the studio. I just don't take them back to back. Unfortunately, I may have to. This means I have to take it really easy the day before so I won't hurt myself. I also need to stretch like crazy before and after. I've proved to myself that I don't have to go cray on the pole at work to gain attention. This was an important lesson for me. My body now thanks me for it.<br /> <br /><br /><br />If I become a title winner next year, that usually means free classes:-)<br /><br /><br /><br />I'll have more time for friends and writing as well. I just need to find clubs that are a good fit for me, that will have me. I'm not like a Beverly Hills chick, but I do have to do a certain amount of maintenance to look attractive. Maintenance cost money. But I have to be at least kinda hot to make money. Oye! The vicious cycle!<br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Sepulveda%20Blvd,Culver%20City,United%20States%4033.995281%2C-118.396106&z=10'>Sepulveda Blvd,Culver City,United States</a></p>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-87841279731921795202013-04-30T16:52:00.001-07:002013-04-30T16:53:27.692-07:00My Audition Today<br />(By the way,I'm using an app for the first time to write this post. It's blog press from my iPad. So if it looks a bit different, that's why.<br />My home club in the valley has had the city they are located in prohibit dancers from smoking outside of the club. They say it makes the neighborhood look bad. Umm...it is BAD. Therefore, the dancers have to smoke in the bathroom lobby of a tiny club. Also, management has smoked in their little office for years. The bouncers and management can smoke outside. We can't. I ponder this: This is a double standard, mais' no?<br />Having been away training for the most of the last 3 months, I had grown accustomed to the air in my open home in Santa Monica, the humid but relatively clean air of my dance studio and hanging out in the pretty much smoke free city that I live in.<br />I went back to work for six hours eight days ago. The second hand smoke was so bad that I had to cancel my dance classes the next night and I still have the remnants of the cough the shs initiated. Plus, the 405 is still giving me a headache, I'm not a fan of the valley and I can use a change of scenery.<br />A dancer from my smokey home club told me about a little place in Oxnard, CA giving it raves. I called there last week, told them I'd like to audition. They said I could come in during the beginning of the week. I emailed them pics and a recent vid. They actually called me in to work a Friday night! I couldn't make it, but I was flattered.<br />I decided to make the hike up there today. It is twice as far as my home club, but I was in traffic for about the same amount of time. I would rather be in traffic by the beach then on the icky 405. I was much less stressed when I arrived.<br />The place was small, the lighting pleasant (not dark and cavernous like my home club). A very cute blond w/ pink ends, Elizabeth, greeted me. She said the managers weren't there. I was a bit disheartened at first, since I told them I would be coming today. There was a misunderstanding: Elizabeth thought I wanted to work, I told her that wasn't the case. She called her superiors and they gave her the ok to audition me. All 3 girls were very attractive. Elizabeth told me I was pretty. The biggest of the 3 girls, Blaze was very friendly. When I got dressed, she said she loved my body and asked about my workout. It has been years since I've had such a friendly reception from women I may end up working with! I'm wondering what the 'catch' is, lol!<br />I danced, they loved my pole work (I didn't do anything!), the guys throw a little $$ my way, so my lunch and latte were paid for:-) I'm pretty sure I'm hired and I'm not picky about getting weekend shifts. I forgot to ask about tip out or house fee. The girl that recommended me to this place said that we get a wage, but then pay some of it back?? I can't really remember.<br />Two more girls came in while I was leaving: a thick platinum blond and a very tiny red head. They are all cute and of course younger than me. Way cuter than the girls they have on their site. We'll see what happens. Blaze actually extended her hand to me to shake hands! THAT IS A STRIP CLUB FIRST!!<br />I'm keeping one day a week for now at the smokey place. There is a place in NoHo that I love working at, but they ask so much $$ from us to work there. I'm always welcomed there and that's a nice thing. If only the $$ was better:-(<br />The club scene is changing so much in Los Angeles county. I read recently that there is a site in which web cams are inserted on stages and in dressing rooms in certain clubs. The site is shaky now because it's new, but so was myspace, youtube and FB. This is the future. <br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br /><br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=W%205th%20St,Oxnard,United%20States%4034.197884%2C-119.179523&z=10'>W 5th St,Oxnard,United States</a></p>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-8898802258677931372013-04-27T19:41:00.001-07:002013-04-27T19:41:12.379-07:00This is What I Was Working For!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Since the beginning of February, I cut down my work load, trained like a crazed person, gave up my snowboard season, lost money..all so 500 paying people could see me perform solo for less than 3 minutes on stage. I spent money on a designer costume, sessions with choreographers and rented studio space. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">The biggest compromise was not seeing my non dancing friends and being away from this blog.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">The following is a link to my unlisted performance on youtube:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">http://youtu.be/jBxodPJXrjk</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">It's far from perfect. Do I regret it? No. I was frustrated and injured for a good part of the time. I think I learned how not to injure myself and approach preparing for a performance in a less painful way.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">If you get a chance to take a look, critiques are more than welcome:-) I will be 54 next month. Keep that in mind while watching my vid (if you have time to).</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I'll be writing more soon.</span>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-67117515991849828762013-04-05T22:20:00.000-07:002013-04-05T22:20:59.889-07:00Forgive Me But It's Been Over 3 Months Since My Last Post <span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: magenta; font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: magenta; font-size: large;">Hello!</span><div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: magenta; font-size: large;">Yes, it has been this long. I promised myself I would keep writing, but then the Sundance Festival happened, then the Burlesque Hall of Fame auditions that had to be in by February 4th and finally the chance to audition for a solo spot in the studio I have been training at for the last year and a half.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: magenta; font-size: large;">I sacrificed my snowboard season because I had to cut down dancing at work in order to train and not injure myself so I could compete for a solo pole dancing spot in a sold out venue that seats 500. I'm lucky to have a loving partner who basically has supported me financially since January.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: magenta; font-size: large;">I've been living simply and training nearly everyday. I injured myself twice in the process. Including the night of my audition, just 3 hours before. I went anyway after searing pain, tears, ice packs, two viccodin, 1/2 a xanax and four sticky heat packs on my back. Got there nearly an hour early and warmed up. I messed up a sequence, I was racing to end where I wanted to. I only had once chance. I left thinking I really messed up. I had a 3 hour rehearsal for something else in the morning. To make this story shorter, I got the solo spot. Yet, I haven't been able to really train all week because of my injury.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: magenta; font-size: large;">I sacrificed my blog, my winter fun (and mostly his, he lost a lot of $$ on our Mammoth memberships), my time with my non-dancing friends, income at work for 4 minutes of stage time and possible clout in the world of pole acrobatics. And I may not get the clout part.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: magenta; font-size: large;">I apologize to what readers I hopefully still have. I may not make another post until after April 20th (4/20, ha-ha), but I will try.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: magenta; font-size: large;">I have Coachella next week, so I need to research a lot of bands.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: magenta; font-size: large;">I'm still not sure if I regret doing this. I don't think so. During this journey, I've been picked up by another dance company, I've learned how not to train too hard, even though I am injured I've increased my stamina and strength. Although I have a lithe, muscular body, it's covered in bruises so I don't show it off very much. Ah, the irony.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: magenta; font-size: large;">But I will be back to continue the story of Dorien Grais and the effect that working at Richard's Lounge had on her.</span></div>
Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-29715025388731852352012-12-26T01:35:00.000-08:002012-12-26T01:35:43.966-08:00Bob's Beach (Part 2) <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I mentioned when I left San Francisco for Bob's Beach that it would end in a violent situation in an earlier post.</span><div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I had been living there for a couple of months. The parties were starting to annoy me. Bob's attention had become stifling. I liked him very much, but I knew this is not the life I wanted for myself. Working at Richard's Lounge was working out well enough.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">During that time, I was offered a bachelor party. I had pretty much decided not to work the party circuit any more. They were offering a nice incentive. My best friend Amber, who was dating the other Bob said she would go with me for support along with my appointed body guard.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">When I arrived to the party, it turned out to be a young but upscale crowd. They were all great looking, clean cut. The party was tame and went very well. When I was done, all the girlfriends started to arrive and it turned into a social party. I was invited to stay. Everyone, the girls included were nice to me. I got to know the guy who hired me. He was very hot. Add alcohol, me being generally unhappy, yes we hooked up. Before this happened, I asked Amber if she would have my back. Meaning, not tell Bob if I hooked up with this person. She promised she wouldn't say anything.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Drugs, alcohol, stupidity and being young is not the best combination. Amber and I had an argument about a month later. She told Bob everything. He didn't let on that he knew for a good week. We were in bed, he told me that he would really like to marry me so that I would become "his". I told him I wasn't ready for that kind of commitment. I also didn't want to become anyone's piece of property. That is when he blew up and let me know he knew. He said he still loved me. He said he would do his best to forgive me.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Yeah, that went well.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">When I moved out of my parent's house, I took the bedroom set they bought me when I was 5. It was a nice queen size, wooden, four poster bed. I moved it to San Francisco. I took it with me to Bob's Beach.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Since Bob found out about my fling, I noticed he had been drinking a bit more. I would come home from work and there would be more random people hanging around that usual.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">On a Friday night, I came home after work. There was a full on beach party in the works. I wasn't happy, but I decided to have a drink a be social anyway. Bob introduced me to a hot, tanned beachy babe, Tammi. She was nice enough. We talked a bit, then randomly split up. I sensed Bob wasn't paying that much attention to me. It started to become a strange night. His friend, Jim had flirted with me previously. This night he straight out asked me to sex him. I said No. He asked why since I had hooked up with the bachelor party guy. (Great, Bob told everyone). He was also throwing all kinds of negative comments at me; saying that it wasn't my home because I wasn't charged rent- how long was I going to keep dancing because I was old at 25, et.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I got up to leave the party. My car was parked on the street. I sat in there to relieve my temper for a while.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">A half hour later, I come back to an empty beach. I walk into the house. I go to open the door to my room. Sonny, who was passed out on the couch, bounces up and tells me not to open the door. I ask why, but then I hear the grunting, moaning, groaning of sex.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I'm shocked, mad. I go into the kitchen and break a few dishes. I cry. Then I realize they are doing it on the four poster that my parents gave me!! NO!! Did I mention Bob liked to hunt? I go for the rifle. Sonny struggles to get it away from me. I fall into a heap crying, telling I have no intention on killing anyone. I just wanted to scare them. He makes sure the gun isn't loaded. He is trying to soothe me. I told him to let me go. I promised I wouldn't beat the shit out of Tammi. I just had to get them off of my precious bed.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I walk in. They are doggy style. Bob tells me to get the fuck out. I tell him to get the hell off my bed. (This exchange is repeated a few times). Tammi squeals, 'what's going on? Is that chick your girlfriend"? I tell her not anymore. He tells me they're busy. I tell him I don't care. I will wait until they finish so I can strip the bed and burn the sheets. He can't finish (lol). She barely dresses and runs out. He and I argue in the living room. He's naked, I'm in sweats. He says he wants me out. I say I'll get my stuff out while he's at work the following day. Luckily, I had a friend to stay with. I find a new place to live within a week.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">At this point in time, Amber and I are not friends.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I hope everybody has had a nice holiday!</span></div>
Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-64785278993842977392012-12-19T23:36:00.000-08:002012-12-19T23:36:30.541-08:00The Holidays are Hectic<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">...and a bit depressing. My current club has been slow. It's not the lack of making it rain that is bringing the sadness. The state of some of my customers. There is a young man who comes in nearly every day. At least everyday that I am there. Apparently, he has a terminal illness. I've heard this from the other girls. He hasn't told me. I talk to him everyday that I see him. He hasn't told me, but he asks such existential, yet simple questions.</span><div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Then my long term regular severed our relationship last week in a severe manner. I really don't want to cross paves with him again.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Everyone else in my pole/acrobat class is passing me up in their strength and talent. I'm afraid to practice at work because the pole is so slippery. I have insurance, but it's still not worth taking the risk. I practice at home every chance I get. But my housekeeping is suffering because of it.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Enough about my pity party. I will continue stories about my sordid past tomorrow.</span></div>
Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-62739002749384591992012-12-05T23:49:00.000-08:002012-12-05T23:49:03.929-08:00Living At Bob's Beach in San Jose, CA (Part 1) <span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I realize it's been a month since I've posted. The site I was supposed to be published in didn't work out:-( I have to admit it this derailed me a bit from writing. Enough about the present, I have a past to write about.</span><br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Leaving San Francisco was a culture shock for me. I was brought up in the suburbs for the most part. However, living in England as a child, going to school in "San Fran" and Los Angeles left an impression on me. I had become an "urban gorilla". Going back to the suburbs made me feel like I failed to achieve goals. Still, I needed the change. My partying in the city was ruining me.</span><br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I moved in with the two Bobs at the faux beach in the Willow Glen neighborhood of San Jose, CA. Hawt Bob and I were infatuated with each other. He dumped his long time girl friend for me. I never met her personally, but I heard she was a sweet girl. I stole her man from her, not a great accomplishment. Hawt Bob delivered fish for a living. Yup, fish. There is nothing wrong with this. It was just a change for me. Going from dating law students, medical students, attorneys and male models to, well, fish.</span><br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">It turns out the Bobs loved cooking, having people over and (you knew this was coming), throwing parties. What is that old saying? Jumping from the frying pan into the fire? Something like that. It was very difficult to detox in that environment.</span><br />
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<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">He did take care of me for a couple of weeks. He cooked for me and nursed me back to physical health. (I wasn't quite healed mentally).</span><br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Eventually, I needed to start working. I knew I didn't want to dance naked any more. I found a little local bar called Richard's Lounge. It was owned by a very large, amiable, Canadian man, Richard Brazil. This little place was located in Sunnyvale,CA. (This is where Macbooks came from,kids). This was a very small lounge with an elongated full bar, a small rectangular stage and I believe there was a pool table in the back. There was usually 3 dancers on a shift. We worked seven hour shifts. Since we danced in bikinis, they had a full bar. (No nudity and alcohol in California). We danced a couple of songs on stage, picked from a jukebox. Then we would do these little dances for a minute or so for the individual man and/or woman. They would tip us directly. They were allowed to stick the money on to the edge of our bikini bottoms. I found out later that most of the money was being tipped into the bikini bottoms.</span><br />
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<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">This was to be my second home for the next 8 years.</span>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-53079992713465697412012-10-30T14:38:00.001-07:002012-10-30T14:46:20.979-07:00Not In a Good Mood!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: magenta; font-size: large;">My wireless keyboard is not working , I hate this Starbucks and the club I disappeared from three months ago won't take me back. I haven't had enough sleep, my lower back is tweaked in a bad way.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: magenta; font-size: large;">Oh, now it decides to work ...right when I'm getting ready to leave:-(</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: magenta; font-size: large;">I had no idea I had to be on a schedule with that club. I was told by one of the dancers that you can come and go as you please. I was not very smart to believe a dancer I barely knew. So disappointing. There was a decent income in that club. And we all know how much of I LOVE those 405 closures to the North.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: magenta; font-size: large;">Oh well. I'll just stay the holidays working in the dives in the valley on day shift, just to avoid traffic and getting stuck with late fees.:-(</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">( I don't know why the rest of blog won't come out in the same style as my sentence).</span>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-35109999426515234782012-10-11T13:54:00.004-07:002012-10-11T13:54:59.358-07:00I've Been Invited to Write a Post For an Awesome Blog!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I know it's been a bit since I've written, but I've been working on a piece for an award winning blog called Blasianbytch.com</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">She's half Black. Half Asian. All bytch:-) I think that's so cute. I am also very flattered to be invited. I'll be back writing here in a week or so.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Cheers,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Dorien</span>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-32868932929201806472012-09-21T19:04:00.000-07:002012-09-21T19:04:32.402-07:00Strip-o-Graming in San Francisco<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">In the fall of 1983, I found out that I could make extra money doing bachelor parties. The Pink Poodle was still decent financially, yet it was located in San Jose. I had been bored of the suburbs since I was in middle school. I really wanted to move to San Francisco. San Francisco: a mini New York, a haven for great cuisine, a mecca of culture, reputable theater companies, great night clubs and an amazing underground music and DJ scene. (Yes, raves were actually around in the 80's. We just called them underground parties).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">There was a company out of San Mateo, CA. It was called Strip-o-Gram. It was run by two male strippers/models by the name of Jason and Julian.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Those were their performance names, of course. Jason was a bit older than most of us. He was probably in his late 30's or early 40's and was a double for Tom Selleck. Julian was younger and looked like a young Richard Gere, hence the name "Julian" from American Gigolo. Julian was known for his act from "Officer and a Gentleman" which would end with him picking up and carrying a female audience member the way Richard Gere did to Debra Winger in the film. The ladies really adored that stuff. Their office space was beautiful and Spanish style. Very unlike the rundown club buildings in San Jose.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I had been to a couple of agencies in San Jose. Both of them took me on but they said I may be difficult to book because I looked too much like a "cute girl" and wasn't sexy enough. They were right. I didn't get booked right away. When I finally did, it was for a bachelor party. I remember the girl they booked me with; her name was Angel. Her face seemed so hardened and she rarely smiled. She had great hair. Farrah Fawcett hair. When she did smile, she looked a little like Farrah. It turns out she was only a year older than me. This scared me because I didn't want that hard look or attitude towards life happening to me. The party was awkward. There was hardly any furniture and it was a bunch of guys standing in a circle in an uncompleted house in the Santa Cruz mountains. They weren't the most welcoming. The vibe was intimidating. Nothing too crazy happened, but I knew this company wasn't for me.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Jason and Julian welcomed me with open arms. They loved my look and said it would be great for the G rated gigs they got a lot of requests for. They would get these great gigs for birthdays, events and performances that were just meant to cheer someone up, play a joke on them or surprise the heck out of them. A lot of these smaller gigs would require that we play characters. I was often booked as a candystriper. Other gigs, I would be an applicant for a tech firm, a health inspector, a police woman, even an insect exterminator! These events would require us to just strip down to a bikini since the places we were booked were usually public and the audience both male and female. This wasn't considered "un -PC" or sexually demeaning to women at the time. The women seemed to enjoy it as well. I was getting booked so much that it was difficult to keep up. I was making incredible $$ and getting a lot of recommendations. I did bachelor parties occasionally. I never felt completely comfortable performing at those parties, but the money was even better. All of the escorts (bouncers) they booked to go with us actually had real jobs and just did this for extra $$, the opportunity to party and to meet hot strippers. They were all pretty hot as well.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Within a couple of months, I had enough money to move to San Francisco. One of the other managers of Strip-o-Gram, John , had a great apartment on Church St. in the Mission neighborhood of San Francisco. He needed a roommate. I was so there. John was a short, muscular, amiable guy. He always had at least three women he was dating at a time. I got the vibe he may have been bi-sexual, but he never brought any guys home. It was actually funny to meet his girlfriends. They all automatically thought I was sexing him. I had no interest in him that way whatsoever. One of them, it took her a few meetings for her to truly believe I was not sleeping with him. This woman was drunk at our place one night and asked me how I could I resist sleeping with him. I just told her the thought made me throw up a bit in my mouth. Then she was mad at me for insulting her taste in men! Umm, she didn't last long.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Things were so great: I was living in a great apartment in a trendy neighborhood, making decent money, I was still on my parent's medical insurance plan ( I was 24. I had one more year. Yes, they did that back then), I had a part-time civilian job that I got from college placement so I could tell my parents that I actually had a real job. (It was so boring. I worked part time for Isotoner, the glove company. I was a glorified inventory person. I had to dress like a model in a business suit to come to work and stock items for these people:-( ! I was also getting gigs as a real dancer. I met some producers of some underground parties such as the Club A-non and the French Legion from a DJ I became friends with. These were fun and paid very well! I popped out of a giant cake at one of them, danced in a cage at a Motown themed party and was a statue who came to life at another one. I didn't have a study boyfriend at the time. I was liking this. I had left a boyfriend of a year in the San Jose area. He was a post hippie-punk rock artist that wanted to move to the Santa Cruz mountains and get married. I craved the city. That was the end of us. I relished being single. I was dating male models, musicians, and hot guys with real jobs. I was a chubby girl in high school. I had lost my chubbiness and couldn't believe that I was thought of as attractive. This was so new for me.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">January 1984 came around. If you are not familiar with the business of strippers, January is the worst time of year to make a living at this. Bookings were not so abundant. I had been having so much fun partying, shopping, partying, dining out, partying and dating that I had not even thought of the slow season. In fact I didn't think of the slow season at all. Partying was becoming a big hobby of mine. (Did you notice this?) I was never a smoker, but I was doing my fair share of recreational cocaine. I was cute, so I never had to pay for it. I always made my payments, so my roommate had no problem with it. I never really became an alcoholic, mainly because I couldn't drink too much because of my small stature. It did make a big difference in my personality. I had lost my attention to detail. I started showing up late to some of my gigs. I quit my real job. My bookers got reports about me from clients stating I looked tired. Ironically, from all the coke I was doing, I started gaining weight. (Back then, 5'2", 110 lbs was considered fat. Not the good kind). I started getting less bookings. I started working part time at various clubs. ( I actually won a contest and a job at the famous Mitchell Brother's O' Farrell theater. Even in 1984, it was too much of a brothel for me to work in). I also got hired at another dance gig agency. One of the male models I was dating had a friend who ran an agency similar to Strip-o-Gram. It was located in San Francisco. They booked primarily male dancers. I was their token female. Although I was flattered, I didn't get too much work from them either. I was becoming depressed. My energy level dropped. I dreaded seeing my family down in the San Jose area. I started to dabble in Xstacy.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Eventually, my best friend, Amber loved coming up to San Francisco from San Jose to hang out with me. I started going down south to hang with her as well. She introduced me to a cute boy named Bob. He was tres' hawt. In more of a masculine way than the pretty boys I knew in San Francisco. He lived in this old house on a sprawling piece of land in the Willow Glen neighborhood of San Jose. He shared it with another guy named Bob. They built a big faux beach and called it Bob's Beach. Bob convinced me that the big city was the source of my depression. He could never understand the concept of paying for parking. I ended up moving out of San Francisco and moving in with him. Amber took my place in San Francisco.</span><br />
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<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">This was pretty much the end of the relationship between Strip-o-Gram and myself and the beginning of a dysfunctional relationship that almost ended in violence. But I would come back to San Francisco.</span>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-59913330036410522062012-09-15T22:13:00.000-07:002012-09-15T22:13:49.817-07:00The Perils of Pole Dancing<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">(I am so mad right now. It's hottest day on earth in Los Angeles.....AT THE BEACH<b>!!! </b>I have no A/C in my apartment, have had too much caffeine to go to a coffee shop and my technology is taking a crap on me! I don't want to use my laptop because it's scalding hot, my iPad has this site frozen, so I'm typing on a wireless keyboard connected to my iphone. My cute little iphone just lost half of my post. I'm starting over).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I don't think there are many dancers around that have been dancing on a pole as long as I have. I don't mean walking around the pole, doing a couple of spins, maybe a pirouette, then sliding down the pole into a split. I mean leg hanging, upside-down, inverting, cross ankle release...I think you get the idea.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I came in contact with my first stainless steel pole at the end of 1992 in a small club called Richard's Lounge (soon to be changed to The Candid Club) in Sunnyvale, CA. Immediately, I knew how to climb. Perhaps not gracefully,but I could do it fast and it was fun. Within a year I taught myself how to do a few spins,hang upside down and do a cross ankle release. My big trick was sliding down in that cross ankle release position hanging with one foot. Pretty cool, huh? Especially for not having YouTube to reference.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">The peril was that for many, many years after this, I did the same tricks over and over again, favoring my right side. Fast forward to 2009. I started taking classes. I've learned all kinds of things: knee holds, ceiling splits, aerial mounts, flag pole, blah,blah.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I still favored my right side. Also in the last six months, I've been taking so many aerial classes that I've neglected to work my lower body. Since the end of March, I found I've been injuring myself (mostly minor stuff) repeatedly. This had never happened to me before when I was lifting weights and changing up my workouts.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">About seven weeks ago, I was dancing. My music was high energy. I jumped up and landed on my 5 inch heel boots like I had done so many times before. Except this time, my left knee felt a bit different. It didn't hurt like hell. It just felt different, a little weaker.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"> I took five days off dancing to travel. I felt great when I came back. So I danced again. On my second day, I felt that feeling in my left knee again. The next day, I took two pole classes and had worked out for an our earlier that day. When I got home, I had to ice my knee for almost an hour. Two days later, I was walking around doing errands in medium heels. My knees started burning. This scared me and sent me into a paranoid downward spiral.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">The following week, I saw my doctor, chiropractor and a physical therapist. It turns out I have a severe muscle imbalance from favoring my right side for so many years. I have also been neglecting my lower body (compared to how I use to work it out) for the last year. The good news is: I don't need surgery. I just have to start allover with lower body weights, work my hip flexors every day, and learn to use the pole with my left side. I'm stronger than I thought I was on that side, but I still need a lot of work.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">So ladies of the pole: Please, please work both sides. I doubt that a lot of young women who are starting to work with the pole now will be doing it for the length of time I have. If you do plan to be a lifer, learn both sides. Do not forget to work your beautiful legs and booty. Not only can you become weak, but I know a certain famous pole dancer, who although thin and bendy, she seems to have lost a lot of definition in her legs and her booty is almost non existent. If you are making your $$ by shaking your booty you definitely don't want that happening!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Please be careful. I've hit my head twice in eight weeks(only one was pole related). I just got my brain scanned yesterday. My brain is still normal and intact. I'm very lucky. I don't want this happening to you pretty dancer ladies.</span>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-77179120238854224452012-09-04T01:06:00.000-07:002012-09-04T01:06:42.527-07:00My Subcribers & the Animal<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I just wanted to extend a heartfelt thanks to my subscribers. It feels so wonderful to know that I am able to entertain you with my random musings about an industry that so many people think of as 'tabu', elicit or plain ol' dirty.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">My last post was all about what was happening with me presently. Yeah, all about how I was going to take that audition because that solo spot in the recital was so rightfully mine, all mine.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Welllll.....that didn't happen. I had been dancing and training like a teenage gymnast. My left knee decided to start burning painfully just a week before my audition. The few days before my audition, I was seen by a chiropractor , a doctor and a physical therapist. The good news: I didn't need surgery. The bad: after pole dancing off & on for 19 years and favoring my right side, it turns out I have a definite muscle imbalance . Also, for the last year I have excelled on the pole so much that I had been neglecting my lower body. My quads are weak. Especially my left one.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">This depressed me a lot for a little while. However, I am now on the road to strengthen and center myself.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Which brings me to a dancer I knew in my past . I have mentioned her before. She is the one and only Animal. She was the wildest pole dancer I ever knew. Her method of pole dancing was to grab the overhead horizontal bars, swing on them, let go in a chinese split in mid-air and end in a hard landing split. No leg warmers, knee pads, stockings or any sort of protection. Guess what? She still does this occasionally. She introduced me to a shot called a Blowjob. She would down these with her hands behind her back while people cheered.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I was on yelp a couple of weeks ago. I was searching for reviews of the Brass Rail in Sunnyvale, CA. There was a photo of a woman with wild blond hair, who did look older. She had this unmistakable warrior look to her face. Apparently, her real name is Charlotte. I messaged her and asked if the woman in the photo was the Animal. She got back to me. I was right! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">We've been messaging each other on yelp. She is still there at the same club. She has been a DJ there for 33 years. She was dancing before that. She had to have been at least in her early thirties when I started dancing there when I was 26. She is at least 60 yrs old.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">All those years working in what use to be a mid-level club, now a dive for many years. I wouldn't have been able to do it. To me it would have been like death. I was working towards a different career, loved to travel and valued my privacy. I would imagine after that long in one place, you would no longer be a mystery to any one. Everyone would be up in yo' bizness!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">But there are advantages: the Brass Rail is an independently owned club. It's been a family business for over 40 years. They have always offered medical benefits to their employees. It's located in a somewhat desirable part of California. They actually serve decent food there. Workers get to eat gratis.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Animal was a dancer who hung out with motorcycle gangs and didn't have much of an education. She did have that sexy kind of raspy, deep voice that came from cigarettes & whiskey. Becoming a DJ was a natural progression.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Here's a toast to you, wild Animal:-) (Knocks back a Blowjob).</span></div>
Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-90467379629664195212012-08-14T15:33:00.001-07:002012-08-14T15:33:20.488-07:00I've Been Busy<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I have been busy and so sorry for neglecting my blog. This is not a story about my past, just a short comment on my present.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I've been practicing for an audition I have coming up. This would be for a solo spot in a pole dance recital. I'm so nervous and my knees are really sore.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Why would a woman who has been dancing for 30 years and on a pole for 18, be so nervous? The game has changed. That's why.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">It used to be I would be the only one in the club sliding down a pole up-side-down with one leg. This would get all the applause, mouth gapes and $$ from the mostly male audience. These days, you have to be a contender for Cirque du Soleil to not solicit a yawn.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">My fave dancer, Anjel Dust, only 3 years ago was winning competitions all over with her knee holds, aishas and spinning side climbs on a static pole. Now knee holds and aishas are common place. I still think her spinning side climb is spectacular. She had to re-learn pole dancing without boots and knee pads because by 2010, she was considered disqualified if she danced in boots!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">So, I've learned so much more. Last March it was a 24 yr old and myself that were the top performers of our studio because she could death lay and I could split on the ceiling. She has now surpassed me. She is an instructor. But I knew she would because she is 29 yrs. younger than me. Becoming an instructor, was not my goal, however.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">So why am I busting my ass to win a solo? I do solos all the time for a mostly male audience. Because this is a different game. Because it is my legacy. Because it's a challenge. I'm nervous because this audience values artistic talent over sexual appeal. This makes me scared yet carnivorously ambitious. I have to be perfect. I don't get to stop to pick up tips. This is a fierce competition y'all! I got to do it NOW. At my age, I may not get another chance.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I've been really attuned to my fellow advanced level students/contenders. They mostly do the same tricks. Some are more daring than what I can do. But......they don't have the dance, theater or seduction background that I do.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I'm in it to win it. This is why I haven't been writing.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Btw, out of the 100 or so students we have at the studio, did I mention that I have the best abs by far? I've been told this a lot. But my instructor, a famed acrobat that is well versed in trapeze, hoops and lyra as well as pole; told me I had better abs than her last night:-)!!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">(And I've got 20 yrs. on her). Wish me luck!</span>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-36790234270693137112012-07-18T11:18:00.001-07:002012-07-18T11:24:58.052-07:00Cannot Find My Draft!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">This blog won't be posted in my usual style. This is the first time using my iPad to post. Having quite a day: I can't find my draft, I stressed through Dodgers traffic to make it to a dance class just to find out it was canceled and I still haven't purchased a keyboard for my new iPad yet.
I wanted to continue my story about leaving the Pink Poodle because of how the dance styles had changed so drastically.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"> The next club I went to was called The Brass Rail in Sunnyvale, Ca. This is where Steve Jobs started. Not the Brass Rail, but the city of Sunnyvale. The Brass Rail was topless...sort of. This was a club with a full bar and a reputable smorgasbord style lunch. The dancers were also cocktail servers. We were paid a minimum wage and kept all of our tips. The object was to be in the top five each night for selling cocktails. There was some sort of light penalty for being a lazy server, but I can't recall what that was.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"> (About my shit day? I also forgot my reading glasses:-( I am blindly writing this post!!)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"> Back to the subject .Yes, topless sort of. Once you were hired, you were taken to a small room in back of the DJ booth. You shot on video doing a topless dance. No floor work. No pole. Just standing there, bouncing boobies and smiling. They would play this while you danced on stage in a bikini. Hence, they advertised having topless dancers. They are still open and to me knowledge, still practice this form of "topless dancing".</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"> They did have poles. They were no more than 6ft. The stage was a long, narrow sort of catwalk. You stepped on to the stage from the back. About five feet in front of you were two poles on the very edge of the stage, one on each side. There was a horizontal pole on top that connected the top brass poles. Every so often a dancer might do a tiny spin on one of the side poles. But mostly it was all about the pull ups on the horizontal bar.
There was a crazy dancer called The Animal, an older, thin, mean, Harley riding, drunken bitch. She would swing on the horizontal bar and in mid swing let go in mid air and land with a thump in a hard Chinese split. No knee pads, no boots. Crazy bitch!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"> I also got the worst reception from the dancers there. More so than any new club in which I was the new girl. I remember being shown to the main dressing room. It was crowded. Every time I put my bag somewhere, I was told to move my "shit" somewhere else. Especially by The Animal. I was already nervous. I started to cry silently and tried to sneak out of the club. The big black DJ caught me and asked me to go into the small video room. He convinced me to stay and said I could use this smaller private dressing room. I started undressing when an attractive, light toned black dancer called Summer came in and politely said that this room was reserved for her and her three dancing sisters: Spring, Winter and Fall. (Yes, for reals). I was so getting tired of this. I told the DJ I had been kicked out again. He knew what was going on, so he introduced me to Roxy and said she would be my guardian angel.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Roxy was a short, muscular dancer, with short blond, curly hair and a New York Bronx style accent. She was someone you wouldn't want to fight with. She was very supportive of me and hung out with me off and on through out the night. Nobody really messed with me when they found out we were buddies.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Dancing styles there were bouncy and cute. Sort of like early Madonna music videos. Customers were not allowed to touch. There were no lap dances. There was floor work. Mostly just leaning back and spreading or walking like a spider and spreading. Nobody had heard of booty popping at that time. The big move was to bend over with your booty to the audience and move it from side to side. Tall, thin, white dancers with boobs seemed to be the money makers there. Back then, I had shaved both sides of my head and had wild curly hair on top. Sort of like a combo of early Prince and Madonna combined. There was another dancer there with shorter hair than mine! We both did fairly well. Another funny thing about this place is that a lot of the girls wore pantyhose!! Yes, pantyhose. My short haired girl wore full covered body suits over pantyhose and still made more $$ than me some nights. Summer, the diva that kicked me out of her dressing room, wore pantyhose. She was actually a good dancer. Even back then, I felt like pantyhose was cheating! I also thought it looked dorky. This would never fly now! Guys are so dorky. In my entire career I have never wore pantyhose to cover flaws!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">(I was able to fix the format of my post after all:-)</span>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-69385569084354071002012-06-27T15:11:00.002-07:002012-06-27T15:11:25.183-07:00Nothing to do with Stripping<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I am working today. Forcing myself to go in. Having a hard time. My sister in-law and her young family live in Colorado Springs. They were evacuated from their home this morning. The homes across the street are burning. Small chance their home will make it. My 11 year old niece is losing it! Being a trained actress, it's difficult not to access an 11 year old's emotions. Especially a happy, over achiever who cares for her community.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I'm trying not to lose it. Leaving for work in an hour. Keeping tears back. Trying to generate positvity to my poor family. I feel so helpless, living so far away from them. Had plans to see them in two weekends. I only see them twice a year at most. Not sure if I can see them. I have parents I have to see next week. They are in another state. My dad is sick (although getting better) but it's been a month since I've seen him and although we don't get along, I am the closest "kid" geographically to them. I have to go.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Think of those close to you today and be thankful they are OK.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Sorry to be such a downer.</span>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-16934743159845334972012-06-22T22:55:00.000-07:002012-06-22T22:55:09.889-07:00Dance Styles from 1982 to the Present: Vol. 2<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">After I had been dancing at the Pink Poodle for almost a year, I was hired by a stripping telegram company called Strip-o-Gram. (That will be covered in another post:-) I had moved to San Francisco to work for them, since most of my gigs were up that way. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">But when SOG and I parted ways a year later, I went back to the good ol' Pink Poodle. Boy, had dance styles changed! I actually missed Diana and her old fashioned elegance.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">New girls had been hired, as they always are. The two that totally set my mouth agape and made me quite nervous were Sally and Yvette. Ah, yes. 18 year old Yvette. The one who would semi-shower, sit on our vanity counter, legs completely spread, with one dirty foot on the counter..shaving her vagina. Umm, yeah. I thought that stuff was supposed to be done at home. She and I never really did agree on much of anything. She thought I was old and prudish (I was not quite 25!).</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Yvette's style was basically to slink across the stage and at some point spread her legs and stretch her vaginal lips as far as they could be stretched. It made me wince just to watch! I mean, it looked like it hurt. I hated dancing after her. If her fans were there, I just couldn't give them what they wanted. This, of course, affected my ability to make a good income.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Then there was Sally. She was another long legged Latina. She could have been Yvette's older sister. She was a strange one. She would speak in non-sequiturs to anyone who would listen. She didn't necessarily want a response. Her thing was objects. Objects such as: bananas, cigars (sometimes lit), carrots, zucchinis..I think you get where I'm going with this. At least she used a blanket. Sally wasn't just about insertion; ever heard of a song by Prince called "Pussy Control"? This describes Sally. She would make these things twirl, push and vibrate. "Look Mom! No hands!!"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I forgot to mention that Diana, the old elegant dancer was no longer there. Neither was little Jasmine (of the diaphanous robes and ballet training), TJ (the flash dancer) or Precious (turned to religion). I don't think they were fired. I think the "new guard" scared them off. They certainly scared me off. There were other new dancers that were sort of raunchy, but not like Sally or Yvette. The new girls were not shy about talking about who was paying them for sex outside of the club. I don't care what a person does outside of my workplace as long as it's not hurting anyone. They just don't have to tell me.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Wow! Dancing had changed from early '83 to mid '84. I knew it was time for my exit. One day I quit. I was in tears in the middle of a shift. I told Sid (yup, that old butt head was still there), that I couldn't handle it any more. He told me that it was change and other clubs were just like that. He told me to get used to it if I wanted to stay in the business.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I refused to believe him. So I set off to find a different path and way of dancing.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">(PS. This is the present. I hurt my lower back just reaching for shaving cream in the shower today. I need to work the next two days. I'm going in, but taking it easy. Am I doing the right thing?)</span>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-18843058007048709342012-06-13T00:44:00.000-07:002012-06-13T00:44:00.954-07:00The Recent Past: Last Weekend<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I'm not really sure what to title this post. I just found that little snafu I had with stripperweb.com (for some reason I couldn't copy and paste my blogs on their site. Although, they encourage blogs there). However, that's been resolved and it makes me happier.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I guess I'll write a bit about the present. I worked over the last weekend. It was fun and I had some rather wacky things happen. The first thing was a rather cute Indian/American guy I met at my stage. We chatted a bit after I danced ( my regular was there, so I couldn't get dances with my Indian friend:-( He was very sweet. And the lighting in that club works very well for me apparently. He thought I was only 25!!!! You all know I'm 53. (But he doesn't). So he bought a bunch of dances from another dancer, and I was dancing for WP(my regular). We do this on a long, winding couch. He chose to do his dances with this dancer fairly close to where I was doing my dances. When his girl and WP got up to take a break, he would slide over to me so we could chat. It was really funny. I went on stage a bit later. I always go up a minute early for my set so I can clean the two poles myself. Dreamy, Indian guy tipped me just for cleaning the poles! He may be coming back to see this Friday. Yay!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Later that evening as I was getting ready to leave, a very drunk Brazilian dancer I work with, Luna kept talking to me. ( I call her Luna-tic...get it?) He words were slurred with a Portuguese accent. I don't speak Portuguese. She was more difficult than usual to understand. She's tiny like me, but all that alcohol has ruined the surgery she's had. I've heard she's had a lot of lipo around her core and had something weird done to give her the look of yoked abdominals. She has also had that fat added to her booty. The alcohol has bloated her core and has made her puffy. Her legs and booty look good but the definition is gone. She has the look of excessive alcohol. Anyway, she's drunk. She's hugging me and keeps telling she wants my body. She says she wants to "follow me". I'm a bit confused, but I figure out that she wants a body like mine, not wanting to hook up with me. I keep telling her "thank you" as I'm cleaning up and packing my things away. But she won't stop hugging me, complimenting me and somewhere in all this, she kisses me on the mouth! Whoooaaa....(That's how Keanu Reeves as "Ted" in "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure" would react). In addition to all this, she can't find her purse which has her cell in it to call her ride. (Thank god she had a designated driver). Since, I have an everything plan, I let her use my cell, but she can't talk in it! She's so drunk, she wants me to talk to her driver person. I get a vm so I leave a message. She finds her purse and I am so out of there. Phew!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">The following day, I worked in my small, topless, dive bar. It's so funny, every time I work there it seems the lights on stage get darker and darker. I was watching a Caucasian, blond dancer for a bit and I wasn't that far away and it was difficult to see her. Also, the lighting makes blonds look like they have green hair. Yay for me:-(</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">But it was a nice day. There is a sweet man who will request songs and tip well for it. His name is Jeremy, so he always has some dancer strip to PearlJam's "Jeremy". He had an interesting request for me: "White Rabbit" but the Patti Smith version. I like punk rock, but had never heard of this before. It was strange, but fun. He watched me at my stage for just a bit. I knew he put tips down, but I'm not so rude to start counting it while performing. Plus, it's now so damn dark on stage, I can't tell the difference between a $1bill or a $20. When I was finished, I picked up my tips. When I picked his up, it had girth. Back stage I counted. He had tipped my a $50 for that Patti Smith song.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">The other cool thing that happened is I did a stage set that I loved. I changed into a gold metallic bikini and back thigh high boots. (It turns out metallics and neons work well with that dark, evil lighting). I was really exited about the premiere of season 5 of True Blood. I played the Bad Things theme song and "Forgotten People" by Thievery Corporation (this was the estatic dance scene from season 2 when Maryann put a sex frenzy spell on everyone at a party). There was a Latin guy who turned out to be a True Blood fan. His smile was so wide! He was generous and we chatted afterward. He was a bit embarrassed to admit he was a fan. I couldn't tell him too much because he was only on Season 3.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">It was a nice weekend for work. I'll get back to my evolution of exotic dancing in another post. I'm 53, my fingers are tired.</span>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-16228403440264720992012-06-02T23:43:00.000-07:002012-06-02T23:43:42.562-07:00The Burlesque Hall of Fame: The Titans of Tease<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">This takes place in Las Vegas now at the Orleans casino in a theater that seats 800. It was sold out last night. I went last year. I bought a pass and went to every show and took master classes from legendary dancers April March and Tiffany Carter. </span><div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Most of these ladies were dancing in the 50's, 60's or 70's. Some of them beyond. But I think the youngest legend retired from dancing in 1994.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I learned a lot in the classes and just from watching the shows. I had never danced with panels before ( long strips that detach from a long negligee), or with huge feathery fans. I had never considered the art of taking nearly an entire song just to take an opera glove off. This was different for me, but I respect different forms of dance. However, I attended this 4 day event alone. I knew this was going to be a very splashy, formal event, but I don't dress like a 50's pin-up girl. I have very long, curly hair and I don't like the feel of lots of pins and things in it. I didn't sport sequins like almost every other woman (and some men in attendance). When I showed up to my master classes with my booty shorts, royal blue 5 in. heel go-go boots and wet hair, I was sort of "mean girled" out of any circles. So much for making friends. The legends were very nice to me. That made me feel better. So, I was solo and that's ok.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">This sort of goes back to when I started dancing. I wrote about the blankets and raunchy floor work in my last post. I did wear dusters , played with feathered boas, and hats. Dusters were fun. I would love to spin around and hold the sides like they were stage curtains for my body. However, I had no idea what a panel was. Until last year, I had never seen any dancer use them. There was also a diaphanous ballet spin in which the dancers arms are held high while she is holding on to her duster or cape. I vaguely remember a tiny dancer with very long hair, Jasmine, incorporating this move into her routine. I remember with her long blond hair and pastel colors,that this was a very beautiful effect. Yet she was the only one I knew who did this. I never quite got that move down.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I think by 1982, this style of dancing was fading out and morphing into something different. Perhaps I should have been born earlier?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Last night I saw the Titans of Tease show. Last year I was so enthusiastic about all of it. This year: my feelings were a bit mixed. There was a dancer Judith Stein, who I saw last year. She was amazingly talented, original and energetic. She stripped out of a striped pantsuit and did a sort of soft-shoe type dance. It was adorable. She was suppose to appear this year, but recently had two strokes. The MC read the personal note on why she couldn't attend. I had to stop myself from crying. I didn't even know this woman. It just reminded me to stop procrastinating because my energy could be taken as fast as hers.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">On a happier note, the fucking fantastic Shannon Doah from San Francisco. This woman danced in the 60's. I did the math and if she started in the mid-60's at some illegal age, the youngest she could be is 60! This woman is balls out , talented, sexy, beautiful dancer! Her body is full and in prime shape. Sure, it could be lipo , surgery...whatever. But that energy, grace, power, control and creativity is all REAL!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I'm sure her act will be up on youtube soon. But just to summarize , she starts her act on a love seat, smoking a hookah to the song "Go Ask Alice" and then finishes with two Doors songs in these amazing cut away, wide bell bottoms! Val Valentine with her ballet grace, crazy control (she was moving only her abs I could see this with her clothes on from 15 rows away). Haji, an original Russ Meyer girl, who could whip and twirl her duster like a 20 year old dancer. Apparently, she surfs nude at 6AM in the mornings on a private beach in Malibu. My favorite, Holly Carroll a dancer/singer who has a voice that purrs and the energy of the energizer bunny.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">These women give me the courage to go on.</span></div>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-16042105109402770172012-05-23T11:46:00.000-07:002012-05-23T11:46:25.310-07:00Dance Styles and Stage Shows: From 1982 to present, Vol. I<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Since I have been dancing for the last 30 years off and on, I have seen a lot of change in dance styles and shows.</span><div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">When I first started at the Pink Poodle, we had no pole. None of us had worked in a club that had poles. Pole dancing was not even a phrase back then. What we did have on that stage was: a puffy chair, big, burgundy, velvet curtains in which we would enter directly from our dressing room. That was it. There was a bit of a built in "shelf" or an overhanging structure that was part of the wall on the left side of the stage. Some of the more athletic dancers (moi) would use this lift ourselves and body swing a bit.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Almost all of the dancers used a blanket for floor work. I actually miss that. I just havent' found the right blanket:-( I believe the blanket act really saved my knees. I mean, how many 53 (tomorrow) year old dancers do you know without knee problems?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">The oldest dancer I knew there (although she would never admit it) was "Diana". If her overly tanned skin didn't give her age away, her dancing did. What she did was quite elegant. Almost like the tableau styles of the early 20th century. ( If you have ever seen Boardwalk Empire. The burlesque scenes with the amazing Gretchen Mol. This is pretty similar). She had her blanket and did floor work. But she never spread her legs, or blatantly touched herself. She had these slow, lyrical movements she would do with mostly her hands and arms. Being a baby stripper at the time, I didn't get it. But now, I get it. She had a style and stuck to it. There is something to be said about finding a style that works for you. However, there is a fine line between being an original and seeming dated because you haven't bothered to tweak your style to make it more modern.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">The other girls were more energetic or nasty. Nasty, not in the booty-poppin' way, but just nasty. Spread eagle right in your face nasty. Since there were no lap dances back then, the patrons would love to sit right up at the stage to get a good view. (We used to jokingly call that 'gynocology row').</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I had my own ideas about dancing. I thought that a healthy, lean body with tons of energy was the most beautiful thing. I still do. I have been blessed to have a lot of energy. Sometimes, too much, lol!. I used to love to get a slight running start and "dive" on my blanket to make it slide across the stage. I remember Diana constantly telling me to slow down because it wasn't 'sexy'. I couldn't help myself!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">But I loved the feeling of speed, energy, flipping my body this way and that. I even added some break dancing stuff. I still dance that way, but I get the need for speed fed by a spinning pole.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">I'll write more about this soon. There is so much change and evolution of exotic dancing. I can't write this in one session:-(.</span></div>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3637031236519197769.post-63668692384695852852012-05-10T00:31:00.000-07:002012-05-10T00:31:34.105-07:00"Workmen's Comp"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ah yes! Workman's Comp. Now here is a term we don't hear about too much these days. Once upon a time, strip clubs had this item. Basically, it's a form of insurance wage replacement and medical benefits to employees who are injured during their term of employment at the location in which they are employed. However, if the employee accepts workman's compensation, they give up the right to sue their employer.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Pink Poodle employed us as part-time entertainers. I had injured my knee while working. I took a week off and I was compensated. So simple. There was another club, a bikini bar called The Brass Rail. The dancers there would make a video of themselves dancing topless. They would play this video on a film screen while the dancer danced on stage in a bikini. Therefore, they were considered a "topless club". At the time, the dancers were also employed as cocktail servers. They had a drink quota. If a dancer worked there at least fours shifts per week, she was entitled to low cost health insurance.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I realize clubs these days consider us independent contractors. I know quite a few club owners who have problems keeping their dancers. I've heard rumors of certain clubs in Southern California starting to give cash incentives to dancers who show up early or work a certain amount of shifts. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I recall that neither the Pink Poodle or the Brass Rail had too many problems with dancers not showing up or completing their shifts.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I know that offering health insurance is not going to happen. In the 1980's and 90's it was affordable. Now, in the USA, I think anyone who has paid attention to the news or has tried to purchase health insurance knows the answer to that.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The fact that some clubs are deciding to pay us instead of the other way around is a small, positive start.</span>Dorien Graishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188135347348997247noreply@blogger.com0