Let this be a lesson for you aspiring bloggers out there, always make a back-up of your blog before you go screwing with it. Otherwise everything could be gone daddy gone.
I think I have a back-up around here somewhere, but it’s going to take some digging. In the meantime, would it be the worst thing in the world if I had to go back and start fresh?
Update: Check it out, kids! We got most of it back! Woo hoo!
Beginning January 1, walking into a strip club in Texas will cost an extra five bucks. The state believes the tax will get them an extra $40 million per year. The proceeds will go toward helping rape victims.
“This is an industry that largely employs women, and this gives them an opportunity to raise funds for a crime that affects women,” said state Rep. Ellen Cohen, a Houston Democrat who sponsored the bill, approved by the Legislature in May.”I’ve been told the fees to get into these places can be $10, $15. I don’t think another $5 is going to prevent someone from going,” said Cohen, who is also president of a women’s center that could get funding from the new law.
“I’ve been told?” Nice. She is right though that an extra $5 isn’t going to stop anyone. It’s the principle. Taxing unappealing speech can create serious unintended problems. If only strip clubs had a lobby like the NRA.
As I mentioned last week, I had a great time down at the Dolphin I a while back. I never got around to writing about it. Eh. Things happen.
I did want to talk briefly about something that really stuck with me though. Well, something besides the lovely Scarlett, my future ex-wife. There was a younger blonde in there. She was maybe 21 or 22. Anyway, she was the first girl I saw. Beautiful and built. She came down to give me a close-up several times during her set, her breasts right in my face.
“I love my breasts,” she told me as she brushed them against my cheek.
I threw a few more dollars her way to show my appreciation, and like that she was off the stage.
When her turn came back around, I made sure to sit front and center. Sometimes dancers are like rides at amusement parks. When you find one you like, you keep going back for more. So it was with this one. Just so…perky.
It was her third set when I finally discovered the source of her giddiness. After she removed her top, she reached up toward the ceiling and in the process revealed matching 4-inch scars in the crease under each of her breasts. They looked pretty fresh. No wonder she couldn’t get enough of them!
I wasn’t a big fan of the fake breasts until a co-worker let me feel her up several years ago. We were having a discussion about flashing while we were driving around looking at apartments. She mentioned she almost had hers paid off and I didn’t believe her. It had never dawned on me that she had implants. Until then, I hadn’t given it much thought. But when she took my hand and… well… it turned into a long lunch. Funny how one experience like that can change your opinion.
I’ve had a few conversations with girls about implants. They’re always discreet when I ask whether another girl has had surgery. They don’t comment. And good for them, I say. I’ve no idea what percentage of dancers have them. It’s probably higher than I suspect. Do they improve the bottom line? Do they pay for themselves? When well done, not the Dolly Parton double-G’s, but a nice C or maybe D, I bet they probably do.
Your thoughts?
The Oregonian had a neat article about blogging on Thursday. There was even a passing mention of yours’ truly in there. How about that!
A reader writes:
Hey, Richard, I just read some of your blogs today and enjoy the way you write about Portland strip clubs. I haven’t been to them all, of course, but a large assortment from Dino’s to Exotica to Magic Gardens. Even been to a club in Key West and one in Medford. Anyway, there’s a new ‘Lingerie Modeling’ boutique on Mcgloughlin Blvd. about a block and a half away from the Dolphin I on the same side of the street. I believe it’s called ‘Saphire’, or something like that and was wondering if you might pay it a visit and give a review in your blog? I know nothing about the place, other than seeing postings on Craigs from some of the girls that work there. I’d like to know what you think.
Interesting. The girls post on CraigsList? Hmmm…I’ll have to check that out.
As for visiting a jack shack? Yech. Not high on my list of things to do. Although I did meet a girl a few weeks back who’s curious about such places. So maybe she and I will go visit together. Perhaps.
I was going to hit J-Mack’s party last night at the Safari, but ended up going home instead. The sign outside said there would be a porn star performing, but for the life of me I can’t find any information on her. Someone needs to let me know when Aurora Snow is coming to town. That will be a can’t miss party.
Had a fantastic time out at the Dolphin I last week. Still working to get everything out, but I’m stuck. I guess that means it’s time to forge ahead into new clubs. Do I bite the bullet and hit the Devil’s Point and DV8, two places I’ve heard good things about but have been trying like the dickens to avoid. Or is there someplace else I should check into first?
Here’s something for the CraigsList girls to strive toward.
A Chilean prostitute has auctioned 27 hours of sex to raise money for the country’s largest charity during an annual fund-raising campaign.
Maria Carolina became an overnight celebrity in the conservative Roman Catholic country, making news headlines and appearing on talk shows since she made her unusual donation to the televised charity event, which runs for 27 hours starting on Friday evening.
“I’ve already auctioned off the 27 hours of love,” Maria Carolina told Reuters on Wednesday, saying she had raised about $4,000. “One of my clients already paid. It seemed like a good deed to him.”
Last week BlogTown told the story of a former co-worker of mine who’s suing Qwest for wrongful termination. This week they tell the story of former Fantasy Adult Video general manager Denny O’Neil, Jr. who’s suing the video chain for wrongful termination. That in itself isn’t all that entertaining. Some of the allegations he makes, though, are.
O’Neil alleges customers and employees regularly retired to the video rooms to engage in sex. I’ll admit, in this semi-anonymous forum, that I used to be a regular at the Fantasy Video in Tigard and on Burnside. I haven’t been to either location for many years, so things may have changed. I can say, only once did I see anything out of the ordinary there. It was late one night in Tigard and a “professional” woman was wandering the aisles. After she agitated a few customers, she was escorted out the door.
That’s it! Once. So apparently I wasn’t taking full advantage Fantasy’s services. Seriously though, I can’t think of a worse way to meet someone or worse place to have sex than in a video booth. Seems very Larry Craig to me.
The Google hits have been jumping off the charts since I mentioned Hotties in passing while reviewing Stars Cabaret. What’s the fascination, exactly? The place is in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by car lots. It’s 18-and-over, which means it’s either in competition with Jiggles, or it’s some other sort of place. I was hoping for the former but feared the latter. The other night, I gave it a try.
As I mentioned, the place is in the middle of nowhere. It’s in a blink and you’ll miss it spot on the south side of Canyon Rd. I ended up driving nearly to 217 before doubling back and finding it. The parking lot was pretty full. I was able to find a spot right on the end. I triple-checked to make sure my car was locked before I went in. There was some guy loitering outside. He may have been security, but I’ve no idea. He was in the same spot as he wished me a good night when I left. So who knows.
Walking in, I was greeted by a great bouncer. Didn’t catch his name, but he’s a cheerful dude. I asked him if he wanted my money, he replied just $5.
Sidebar: A low cover should be an immediate giveaway anytime you find yourself in a juice bar. Jiggles is $15. Cheetah’s down in Salem is $10. The house will always get theirs’. At Jiggles it’s on the cover and overpriced drinks. At Cheetah’s, it’s by forcing patrons to use scrip. At Carnaval, it’s in the private booths.
I handed over my cash and asked the guy if my Diet Coke was going to be $5.
“Yep,” he said.
“Free refills?”
“Nope.”
Ah! See what I mean? There’s alway something.
I turned the corner, walked straight to the “bar” and ordered a Diet Coke. I sat at the end of the bar to take in the room.
There are two stages on either side of the main room. One tucked back into a corner, and one running along the front wall. No rails. No place to sit your cola down. Pretty bare bones. There weren’t that many tables around the place either. Just a few. They were all occupied.
Sensing fresh meat, a cute brunette girl came over to chat me up. After the perfunctory “I’ve never been to a strip club” jive, she and I got down to brass tacks.
“Would you like to know what’s available?” she asked.
“I’d like to know about that $50 for a half-hour sign I see,” I replied.
There were three or four little rooms, for lack of a better term, along the near wall. Each had an easy chair and a curtain which was pulled back. Next to one of the rooms was a sign advertising a half hour for $50. “Score!” I thought. I’d sign up for a $50 lap dance if it lasted a half hour.
The brunette moved in closer to me, hands rubbing my thighs.
“Yeah, those rooms are great,” she said “those dances aren’t like couch dances at all. You don’t have to sit on your hands. You get to touch as much of the girl as she’s comfortable with.”
I wish I could remember the exact phrase she used next. Basically she intimated I’d be able to touch her anywhere.
Sold. For $50, I was in.
“Oh no,” she continued, “$50 is the house cut. The half hour costs $200.”
Oh!
Remember the whole thing about the house always getting theirs? Now we know how.
Well, $200 was way out of my price range and I let her know. Within seconds our conversation turned into a scene out of that Cathouse show on HBO. She started trying to find my price. She slashed the dance to $150. No deal. Maybe $125? She was using scripts I learned back in my sales days. And she came after me hard.
“I thought we had chemistry,” she pleaded.
Right. I’m a mark and I know that.
“Why did you suddenly change your mind?”
“You’re way out of my price range,” I said, as I watched a couple girls take guys back to another part of the building. Perhaps there were couch dances to be had? If there were, I wasn’t going to be getting one from her. I was there to have a good time, not feel like I’m buying a car.
After a few more Zig Ziglar scripts, I finally looked her in the eye and told her she wouldn’t be getting a single dollar out of me. Ever. That was what finally convinced her to give up. Interestingly, she didn’t spread the word to the other girls. Normally word travels fast when a customer is either being generous or cheap. Perhaps she doesn’t talk to the other girls. Whatever. I didn’t lack for attention the rest of the evening.
A few other girls came by to say hi. A sloppy blonde with wavy hair. Another was pierced and tatted up. Both appeared glassy eyed. I’ll leave it at that.
I worked my way down to the stage to see a couple of the girls close-up. The only one I really remember was a tall blonde girl who was really well put together and had a smile that worked for me. She spent her time between me and these two other girls at the other end of the stage who were either lipstick lesbians or sisters on a church outing. I couldnt figure their deal out. Either way, the blonde didn’t want to be there, but she was a trooper. She got a few of the dollars the brunette could have had if she’d backed off. She came to my side of the stage after the dance, leaned into me with her breasts in my face and whispered “would you like a private dance?”
See, she could have had a dance. But I was still unsure of the whole $200 thing. So I thanked her and said no. It finally took another girl to set me straight and offer a $20 couch dance. She and I had a little thing going all night. We made eyes and smiled. She was a sweetheart. But I’d already put my time in and had decided to go hit the Dolphin.
As bad as my experience was, I can’t get the place out of my head. Why? Well, the blonde for one. I’ll bet you $1 she’s not there anymore. But if she is, I owe her a couch dance. Second was the girl with the eyes. See? Two girls I owe couch dances. And the whole point of this exercise was to judge the couch dances! So while they’re not at the top of my agenda, Hottie’s will definitely be in my rotation next time I hit the west side.
Friend of blog and Karaoke From Hell guitarist Raul St. Texas sends along his first hand account of last night’s encounter with porn legend Ron Jeremy at Tiger Bar.
i arrive at the show with plenty of time, but i’m exhausted and not in the mood to play at all. just one of those kinda nights. i’m playing with a few new pedals and my sound is not dialed at all. just couldn’t feel my tone. about 3 songs in, i break a string and go to the backup guitar. i quickly realize that i hadn’t really spent any time with this guitar through the new pedals on the board. now, my tone sucks, i’m frazzled and am just focusing on getting through til set break.
the string gets replaced during set break….i’m back in business. first singer for set #2 walks up on stage. punk kinda guy. spiky hair, lots of chains…he’s loaded. as i’m flipping the song charts to his song, i feel a hand reach over my shoulder and land on my…ummm…”pec”. he then yells “this guy has the best T!TS in portland” over the microphone. ….ok…didn’t expect that… now, i’m not the skinniest guy in the world, but i’ve lost 30 lbs in the past several months. i wanted to somehow inform the audience of this…or just do SOMETHING to give myself a remote shred of dignity. but there is nothing (and i mean NOTHING) you can say or do to recover after a statement like that. i wanted to say “uhhn uhh!” and point to the waitress (who isn’t shy about telling people that her other job requires FAR less clothing than what she was currently wearing) who clearly has far better ones than i do. i also considered just running off the stage while wiping the tears from my eyes, but didn’t feel like adding “may jump off stage while crying like a little schoolgirl” to my musical resume. anyway, during the song, he stumbles back onto my pedalboard, knocks my ebow and slide onto the middle of the stage. he’s jumping all around at this point. i kick the ebow out of the way, but my glass slide didn’t make it. whatever.
during a rousing rendition of folsom prison blues, my pedalboard blows up. an incredibly loud, terrible sound is screaching from my rig. bypass the board, straight into amp…song done. before the next tune i grab an all-around distortion pedal off the board and plug back in. at this point, i couldn’t care less if the entire place started on fire. i just wanted off the stage.
we start playing “hit me with your best shot” by pat benetar. after the solo, i look out to see a hand giving me the universal “you rock” devil horn thing… i move slightly to the left to get out of a glaring yellow light. follow the hand down the arm to see a shorter, tubby-ish guy with a mustache and longer, stringy curly-ish hair.
yes, that’s right…..RON F’N JEREMY was giving me the you rock sign while playing “hit me with your best shot”.
if it’s too early for any of you…i’ll repeat it: RON JEREMY…was telling me that i rocked while playing the song “hit me with your best SHOT”…
i went to bed at 2:52 this morning with a sense of musical arrival like i had never known.
According to Ron’s MySpace, he’s going to be at the Castle Mega Store at 6pm tonight. I may just have to go get my picture taken with him.