Richard Thruster

I texted a friend of mine Wednesday afternoon to find out what he was doing to bring in the new year.  He said his plans involved getting as drunk as possible while staying home.  As fun as that sounded, I didn’t think another year with Dick Clark was going to cut it for me.  I told him my plan for 2009 involved bringing this blog back, hopefully better than ever.  What better night to bring it back, I said, than on NYE.

The only real question I had was where to begin.  Did I go out to Stars and revel with a room full of twenty-somethings and silicon strippers?  Or should I choose something a little calmer.  Perhaps emptier.

I put the question to my friend who didn’t hesitate.  Go for the lonely stripper, he said.  See how far it takes you.

Ah.  An interesting proposition.  Could I spend the stroke of midnight on a couch with a stripper.  THAT would be some story.

I spent the early part of the evening at the Winter Hawks game.  They usually do a pretty good job and games against Seattle are always entertaining.  Wednesday night was no different.  Lots of goals.  Lots of fights.  And plenty of folks hanging around having a good time.

The ultimate plan was to head over to Spyce.  I’ve been there once and figured that would be where I would find the lonliest stripper.  This was based on that one experience when I went in on a Saturday night and found two girls in the entire place and two customers.  That is a dead club.  To wet my appetite though, I hit the Hawthorne Strip first.

The Hawthorne Strip has become one of my favorite places in the last year.  It’s quiet.  It has sports on the plasma TV over the bar.  The girls are usually pretty good.  And it’s quiet.  Well, except for the music.  It’s one of those places with no dj, so the girls go over to a juke box and select their set just before hitting the stage.  There’s a fantastic sign on the front reminding girls that they’re in a rock and roll bar and maybe they should leave the emo crap at home.  Generally they stick to rock or 80s.  Either is generally fine by me.  It’s the rap that I can’t stand (*cough*Dolphin*cough*).

I parked in the back and played a little video poker while an innocent-looking brunette worked the pole in front of one guy.  In hindsight I should have parked at the rail since it turned out it was the girl’s last set of the night.  Oh well.  I finished even at poker while I waited for the evening shift to come trickling in.

I rolled over to the corner stage after a few tunes and parked in front of another brunette who I’d walked past as I came in the door.  She had hair almost all the way down to her butt.  It was something else to see.  Unfortunately her dancing style left much to be desired.  She was all frentic motion.  Like she didn’t quite know what to do with herself on stage, so she’d developed this little dance routine that she would go through.  It was like watching an endless loop.  Two times around the pole, walk to the rail, stick foot on rail, pose, walk back to corner, bend over…repeat.  So boring.

From a distance it looked like she had a couple of tattoo sleeves on her forearms.  They turned out to be sleeves from a shirt or something.  Perhaps she was hiding something else?  Or maybe it was her device so she could convince herself she wasn’t really naked while she was on stage.  Different girls use different things to get past that.  It’s interesting.

After her set ended, she lazily came over and asked if I wanted a dance.  She seemed a little off.  I declined.

Next up came a well stacked blonde.  She was solid.  Small breasts, but the rest of her looked great.  And speaking of devices to convince yourself youre not naked.  She wore this leather bondage-type top that drew attention to her breasts while covering parts of the rest.  Yeah, OK…she’s had a baby.  Big deal.  She’s far from the worst looking stripper in town.  Show it off, baby!

After her set, it was back to girl #1 and I’d had enough.

I made my way over to Spyce only to be thwarted.  Turns out every other club in town was also open and there was no parking to be found in Chinatown.  I’ll have to do my review another time.  I definitely want to check out their steak and lobster special one of these nights.  Apparently their kitchen is pretty good.

I headed back east and ended up at Sassy’s.  Not my first choice, but I didn’t really want to drive out to Beaverton or down to Milwaukie.  So Sassy’s it was.

The place was pretty full.  The usual mix of young couples and single guys.  The Vince Neil guy was back DJing.  He does a good job of keeping the girls and the music moving.  I grabbed my Coors Light and hit the stage.  First up was a petite little Asian girl.  I didn’t catch her name, but she was definitely a delight.  She was paying particular attention to an older guy back in the crowd, which was fine.  When it came my turn, she gave a fantastic show.  Great energy and enthusiasm.  You really can’t ask for anything more.

Next up was definitely the hottest blonde in the place.  She was tall and thin with a fantastic body.  Unfortunately, she hates her job.  Or at least that’s how it looked.  When she paused in front of a customer, she’d turn and stare into space.  No eye contact.  No “hi, how you doing?”  And certainly no selling dances.  Such a bummer.

Guys at the rail didn’t seem to care though.  They kept throwing money at her and she kept wanting to be somewhere else.  Blah.

Midnight arrived while the blonde was on stage.  She got into a liplock with another dancer which was intended to get the guys hot, but didn’t really seem to.  The guys with dates were all working their girls while the guys without dates were hooting with their free champagne, happy to be dateless at a strip club.

Had I to do it over again, I definitely would have made the effort to hit a couch somewhere.  But whatever.  I’m a little rusty.

Thanks for checking back in.  Here’s to good things in 2009.

Back at the beginning of the summer when I was just getting off the ground, Willamette Week ran an article focusing on two dancers from Sassy’s. Catalyst from City Business Church picked up on the story of Zoë, a Christian. It was certainly one of the more interesting angles of the story. It looks like Zoë found Catalyst’s thoughts and has posted an excellent follow-up to the Willy Week story and the affect its had not only on her, but with some of her friends as well.

I’m realizing that life is about being honest with yourself. When you ask the hard questions, and don’t give yourself slack; you gain perspective on things that really matter. If people are bothered, skeptical, sickened, ________ (enter feeling here)… by what I had to say; that’s their bag. I enjoyed the scary feeling of letting it all out… like a journal; but fully knowing that people would read it. All of it. I hope it gave some perspective that people might not have experienced otherwise…..

What a smart girl. I need to get in there again and look her up.

I hadn’t given much thought to the little pink building on Morrison. Oh sure, I’ve driven by it enough times and knew it was a strip club, but the location reminds me of too many other little holes-in-the-wall that I’d just as soon avoid. But the Willamette Week article convinced me I needed to check the place out. Was there really a Christian girl working in there? If so, I knew my friend the Catalyst would be interested. Was there really a fiery redhead working there? I knew I’d need to know. So it was off to Sassy’s.

The original plan was to hit the place immediately after work on Saturday night but that was quickly torpedoed as I pulled into the parking lot. The place was crawling with 20-something hipsters who would have been equally happy at the Doug Fir or maybe the new Morrison Hotel down the street. My work “uniform” of gym shorts and t-shirt wasn’t going to work. I’ve been known to wander into the Dolphin while similarly dressed down, but that had a lot to do with my comfort level in there. No matter what I found inside Sassy’s, I could tell ultra-casual wasn’t going to work.

Upon my return, I found the parking lot full and a stretch Hummer out front blocking one traffic lane. The place was absolutely jumping. I finally found a parking spot over on 9th and wandered toward the door. A guy was talking on his cell phone, telling his buddy how Chad was making it rain inside.

“He must have thrown $20 at her!”

Idiot.

After one unsuccessful attempt along Morrison, I finally found the door tucked around the corner. Immediately I was greeted with a chain across the entrance. It acted as a velvet rope only much classier. It was unattended. Was the place full? Was I at the wrong spot? All I could see was a couple of pool tables manned by guys out of a beer commercial. And the music was straight out of 1986.

After a moment a guy with a full Maori facial tattoo came by to man the chain. I reached for my wallet to show ID or pay the cover but all he did was give me a quick once-over and let me through. Whaaa? Saturday night and there’s no cover? I’ve no idea how that works, but I’m all for it.

I followed the music around the corner and headed for the bar. There were two stages set on either side of the room. One of them looked to have the VIP couches behind a red curtain. An interesting configuration. Each of the stages had a pole and the rails were packed with 20-something guys admiring the view, but apparently stingy with the singles. At least that’s what I saw.

I made my way back to the bar, passing a Vince Neil look-a-like who was manning the DJ booth. He was spinning 80s butt-rock records like they were coming back into style. Actually it was a pretty good mix. He even played one of my personal favorites of the genre, Ratt’s “Lay It Down”. Add to that ZZ Top’s “La Grange” and you get the idea.

As I mentioned, the place was packed. Not a chair to be found. After a couple of minutes standing near the bar, trying to get a beer, I finally gave up and wandered to a back corner. The bouncer’s stool made a good vantage point.

There were a half dozen girls working. You can get a look at a couple of them here (a fantastic website, no?). The only one I recognize from the photos is Malice, but the schedule says she wasn’t there. Like all things on-line though, I suspect your mileage will vary with the girls. They were all very good looking and definitely playful. I haven’t seen a line-up that from top-to-bottom put on excellent shows. Each worked the pole and the paying customers like pros, even though a couple of them clearly didn’t “belong”. Belonging is such a subjective term. To me there are girls you want to bring home to mom and those you wouldn’t dare. One reminded me of a former work crush who I would have gladly given anything I had to. *Sigh*

Alas, there was neither time nor room to talk with any of them. When not on stage, most were busy giving private dances or hanging with friends at one of the few tables in the place. Did I mention it was packed? Good.

I gotta say Sassy’s surprised me on several levels. The had the best mix of tunes outside the Club 205. The crowd was unlike what I expected. The civilian females, unlike say the Dolphin, seemed to actually want to be there rather than those who were just “giving their guy a present”. And the beer looked to be reasonably priced. But after an hour, the place didn’t look to be getting any emptier, so I decided to split. I tried to make my way over to the Magic Garden, but there was even less parking available there. I think I’ll have to check both places out on weeknights. That said, I’ll definitely be back to Sassy’s. That’s the kind of place that can certainly grow on a guy.