Monday, January 24, 2011

Tits out for the boys

Strippers are real people too. You better believe it. In fact, I’m a strong believer in supporting these women. Who am I kidding, I FREAKING LOVE STRIP CLUBS! I love to make up these stupid excuses so I can go as well such as “I guess it’s just us boys, you probably want to go to the strippers...” and “oh, it’s a Wednesday, nothing is open except the strippers, guess we’ll have to go there.” That’s the exact excuse I used only one week ago so I could visit King St once again.


Now, my lovely best friend Chanelle, as pictured below (very attractive girl), is super sweet and innocent. She flinches at the word penis, cringes at the sight of an FHM cover and would NEVER go to a strip club....until now. I like to think of myself as someone who can persuade people into doing something they don’t want to do so making her go to a strip club was relatively easy.


The first time I suggested it, she firmly said no. I had obviously told her of my first experience of a strip club way back when I was a tipsy underage rebel using my sister’s I.D. I didn’t even have to use that fake I.D, claiming I couldn’t fit it in my dress while trying my best to get into “Dallas Showgirls”. To my delight, they let me right in. Long story short, I made good friends with the strippers, had a group hug with them and tipped my first dancer, resulting in her expressing her gratitude by rubbing my face between her sweaty breasts. I’m a lucky girl.

After a little persuading, Chanelle was convinced that going to a strip club was a good idea. “Goldfinger’s” was selected as our exotic venue for the night, which proved to be a terrific choice. It was unlike any strip club I’d ever seen before, with dozens of strippers walking around and working for tips. As a girl, it was my natural instinct to check out every girl in the place (I assume girls do that in order to scout of the competition). The strippers (or shall we call them exotic dancers??) at this testosterone fuelled environment came in all shapes and sizes apparently to suit every type of man. You’ve got your fatties, your hotties, your fake titties, your oldies and your possible dudes. It’s every flavour you want from a buffet of ladies.

As an experienced campaigner, I’m going to provide a list of hints when going to a strip club for the young players.

• Tipping strippers can vary. Some strip clubs have a main stage where the chickadees will strip down to their birthday suits. At these lovely establishments, you can get a seat right up against the stage and tip the strippers with cash (if you’re lucky, you can put this tip down a pair of underwear or inside a bra). Some places you need to buy tipping money at the bar but those places you will usually find in Kings Cross. Other places (such as “goldfingers”) you approach the stripper directly to ask for a private strip dance that goes for around $20 for five minutes.

• Don’t touch the dancers unless you see others do it and it seems ok. No one likes a dirty pervert.

• Be nice to them and they’ll be nice back.

• Don’t ask for their phone numbers or ask them on a date. You just sound seedy and they probably get it all the time. Just keep it classy.

Just so y’all know, I’m the best friend ever so it was only right that I bought my friend Chanelle her very first lap dance from a lovely girl called “Lexie”. Clearly her alias but she was a nice lady! I picked out her through a careful selection process after scanning all the girls. She had the best body with the nicest bra so I went in for the kill and got her into the other room, alone with Chanelle and I. “So what would you like me to do?” she asked in her adorable Brittish accent. “I don’t know, some cool shit with the pole?” I replied sounding uber experienced. The show went down pretty casually with the highlights being when Chanelle asked where she got her bra from (playboy, if you were interested), when I found out that her terrific mammories were in fact real and when she grinded on Chanelle while Chanelle squeeled and put her hands over her face.

When all is said and done, remember this:

“You know that little girl up there dry humping the stage and grinding that f*&#ing pole, that’s somebody’s daughter! “

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Sweet skills

I’m broke. Like MC Hammer broke. I ain’t making a dime. I also just realised while trying to write a resume that I have no skills. Sure I’ve got my “responsible service of alcohol” certificate but a monkey in a wig could pass that. I have lots of sweeeeet skills that are not really useful in real life but I find them quite pleasing so I’ll list them.


1. I am the lyrics master. Don’t be jealous, it’s just the way I was born. I can remember the lyrics to pretty much any song including rap... I’ve been called the songbird of my generation. If I listen to a song about twice, I will always know every word. Me and 50 Cent have that in common. It’s a strange and useless talent that I’ve grown very fond of.

2. I know everything there is to know about Harry Potter. When I was the tender age of 14, I had the world’s largest crush on Daniel Radcliffe. I had literally planned how we were going to meet, where we were going to get married and what our children’s names would be. I was a creep. I was also weirdly obsessed with the books and movies so I was obviously devastated when my owl didn’t come with my acceptance letter to Hogwarts. The point of my story is, no one appreciates it when I quote it or make Harry Potter related jokes eg. “wow those clouds look ominous, I think the dementors are coming!” or “you can’t say that word, it’s pretty much as bad as saying *whispers* Voldemort out loud!” I digress...

3. I can swear in multiple languages. I would list everything that I can say as it’s pretty impressive but some people might get offended. So I’ll just leave you with this: Chin chin wa oki desu.

4. I can throw javelins really far because I have abnormally long arms. I’m quite the brute. I never really fit in with the throwers when I was at school because I was lanky and awkward while all the other girls were short and muscular. I just got more leverage I guess but I do have the ability to put on muscle really easily, which is pretty funky.

5. I can burp on demand with gusto.

6. One time, I made raspberry sorbet and it tasted just like I got it from an ice cream store. Win.

7. I’m pretty much Wikipedia. I know so much useless information it’s ridiculous. Did you know teeth are the only part of the human body that can’t repair themselves? And that the most stolen item in the world is the bible? And that dolphins are the only animals capable of rape? Ok I’ll stop now....I see your eyes glazing over.

You heard it people. I got game. Now, if you would excuse me, I’ve gotta go and polish my encouragement medal I won for competition aerobics in year seven.

About Me

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I'm a 20 year old performing arts student who likes her tims tams with milk and gets head aches when drinking water with a mint in her mouth