Richard Thruster

Here’s a guy with an interesting idea for a website.  Only there’s no there there.

Besides, doesn’t Google tell you everything you need to know about sex anyway?  That’s how you found me…

So many questions about this story about the guy who offered the girl at Jiggles cocaine.  Interesting that anyone in there could possibly discover a deal in the works.  The last time I was there, which was a Friday  night, there was maybe 1-1/2 bouncers working.  And that’s a maybe.  There’s not a lot of security going on in there.

I’m guessing the girl either got creeped out by the guy or someone else turned them in.  The girl didn’t get busted though, so I’m leaning toward option A.  Either way, weird.

I’ve been woefully out of the game for a few months, hence the light blogging.  I’ve resolved, however, to pick back up, see what else is out there, and maybe revisit some faves.  I also need to get out front of this story about Stars potentially opening a club down in Tualatin.  To that end, I wanted to take another look at Jiggles.  I also wanted to talk a little about the difference between an 18-plus club and a 21-and-over club.

Without getting into too many technicalities, the juice bars are a lot less restrictive than the places which serve alcohol.  That’s because the OLCC can stick its nose into any place that serves liquor while they can’t do a thing about Jiggles or the various jack shacks around town.

I don’t know how many more police calls they receive at Jiggles than at say Stars or the Dolphin.  I can say it’s been a while since I’ve seen the police at any club that serves alcohol.  On the other hand, when I pulled into the parking lot at Jiggles on Friday night, a Tualatin police cruiser was pulling out.  They were there last time I was in too.  It could be coincidence, but as Chris Berman says, once is an accident, twice is a trend.  So that’s something to think about.

The parking lot wasn’t very full for a Friday night at 9pm.  Blame gas prices.  Blame the $700 billion thing.  Who knows.  I was definitely surprised there weren’t more customers.

I paid the guy at the door my $15, accepted my two drink tickets, and headed to the server.  The place hasn’t changed any since I was there last.  There are two “private” areas with couches on either end of the room, several tables lined up on the side closest to the freeway, and two stages.  A main stage with a pole in the center of the room, and a back stage with a full-length mirror on the north end of the building.

The girl working the pole looked like Jamie Lee Curtis in Trading places, only without the wig.  She was super-skinny, with short hair, tattoos and a pierced lower lip.  Ick.  It used to be dancers were content with the tramp stamp on their lower back.  Now the ink thing has spread all over.  Backs, fronts, sides, necks.  You name the body part, someone in there had a tattoo there.  Except the face.  But, of course, that’s the next frontier.

I moved to the back and took a seat at the stage.  As usual at the juice bars, I was the only one down there.  And thus the only one tipping.  I have zero idea how girls in here make any money.  Especially at night.  The place is crawling with community college students who want to drink Red Bull and pretend they’re players for a night.  There were a half dozen of them sitting at a table net to the back stage for the first few hours I was in there.  I’ve no idea why the dancers gave any of them the time of day.  They weren’t tipping and were sort of rude.  But they did.

A couple of the guys also brought their girlfriends.  I think everyone was trying to prove exactly how naughty nasty they were without having to really prove it.  The guys could get the dancers to meow for them, but would never in a million years ask the same of their dates.  I think if they did, they would have been shocked at the answer.  Not wanting to make waves with two nineteen-year-olds hyped-up on Red Bull, I decided not to put a move on anyone’s girlfriends.  I think it would have been interesting to see the outcome.

Most of the girls were younger than those you’d see at a typical club.  I think there was a certain amount of showing off with some of them.  Girls proving to themselves and their friends that they could be as sexual as anyone on MTV.  An interesting thought.  There were several who couldn’t have been more than six months out of high school.  What an interesting career choice.  Especially in there.  Again, after tipping out the DJ and paying the house, I don’t have any idea how those girls make a dime.

Things didn’t start to get interesting until I moved away from the stage and took a seat among the poor people.  Sitting at the rail is a sure-fire way to get some peace.  Sitting at a table is a sure-fire way to get some company, quickly.  Of the two-dozen girls working there Friday night, 3/4 of them hit me up for a dance while I sat alone.  On this, Jiggles gets an A-plus.  I hate chasing girls down and asking for dances.  That’s my shyness, I suppose.

I ended up passing on everyone.  I was trying to be frugal.  Besides, I was on recon.  I did end up having an interesting conversation, though, with a young blonde.  She said she primarily worked the day shift.  I told her I didn’t like coming to the club while it was light out.  Generally the girls aren’t as good and there’s a weird vibe.  She told me it was almost the complete opposite during the day at Jiggles.  Apparently they have a much older clientelle in there during the day.  She says the girls wear dresses, and the music is much quieter and more rock rather than rap.  Interesting.  I promised I’d file that nugget away and come back some Friday afternoon when I get off work a little early.

All-in-all Jiggles is alright.  It’s far from the seediest place in town.  The cover is definitely stiff, but it’s understandable given the fact they make zero dollars on beverages.  And the girls are a little less grizzled than you’re going to find around town.