Johnny Drama

The other night in need of some kind of distraction I headed out to a club and tossed back a few drinks. The music was loud, the people were nice -- but I guess in the end I wasn't far enough out of the shadows I've been under lately to really enjoy myself the way I should have.
Either way, it still beat staying home alone.
When closing time rolled around I headed out to the car to find my way home. Under the windshield wipers were the usual assortment of promo slicks for bands, DJ's, and local ladies nights at the bar that I had just walked out of. It's kind of an annoyance, but it's just part of the experience whenever you park close to a nightclub in this town.

I grabbed them all in one quick swoop, tossed them on the passenger seat, started up the engine, and headed home.

It wasn't until the next day when I had some running around to do that I remembered the pile of promos sitting on the seat next to me. All printed on photographic stock paper, crammed with graphics and photographs of mysterious turntablists wearing a variation on the apparent DJ uniform of wifebeater, sunglasses, and backwards-turned baseball caps. I thumbed through them absently while waiting for a light to change, when something caught my eye that I wasn't expecting to see.
A business card.
At first it was hard not to laugh at it, almost as if it were some gag gift dropped on me at some office holiday party or something. I mean, you hear about stuff like this -- but you never really think you're gonna actually see it. And even then, considering the caliber of some of the other topless professionals in this town, you wonder if it's the kind of thing you'd really want to see at all.

I don't know - maybe I'm missing some vital link that's keeping this concept from being effective for me. I mean, I think most guys probably have some sort of fantasy tucked away in the back of their minds involving someone in a French maid's outfit -- but for me at least that particular fantasy involves, you know -- seducing the person in the outfit, not actually putting them to work.

To me, going to a strip club and giving some pretty girl money to pay attention to you and treat you like you're special is one thing. It's not a particularly triumphant thing -- but as long as everyone understands what the deal is it can be a lot of fun. For some guys it becomes almost like a lifestyle or something -- I remember this one old guy who would come into the strip club I used to work at. Every week he'd come in on the same night. If I had to guess I'd say he was probably in his late 60's or early 70's - nice as could be. He'd buy the dancers drinks, talk to them about his day.. just kinda hang out.

What he didn't do was ever buy a lap dance or get inappropriate with anyone.
Maybe that's why the girls adored him so much.
It was this oddly sweet thing that continually happened in this otherwise seedy environment -- this one old dude with money to burn who just liked it when young women hung out and talked to him. He'd even tip me sometimes for playing songs he liked.

But the weird thing about it was that because he was such a consistent tipper he ended up turning into sort of this mythic figure. No matter what was going on in the club when he showed up, all the girls would call his name and run over to kiss his cheek. I actually saw lap dancers jump off of paying customers to go see him.

Outside of that place he might have been a nobody, just another doddering old guy living out his days, but as soon as he stepped foot into Diamond -- dude was a pimp.

An experience like that one is really what strip clubs are supposed to be about. It's an escape, a place where who you are doesn't matter as much as it might in the outside world. But in my mind that whole dynamic goes out the window when you hire a topless maid.

I mean yeah, there's probably gotta be some combination of magic code words and extra cash that takes it to a whole other level -- but even if this is just a front for an enterprising hooker to drum up more business, there still needs to be the appearance of legitimacy, and that means at some point no matter what else happens a woman is going to walk into your place with a mop and a bottle of pine sol -- and in my mind it's gonna seriously matter right then and there who you are.

Hooker or not, it takes a special kind of woman to walk into some dude's sloppy-ass apartment and not think even a little bit less of him. And don't act like you're gonna clean up and have the place looking good for her -- she's a maid!

But beyond that, you know how guys are -- even if they do say the magic words and shell out extra money to sleep with the girl, there's gonna be a point where she's putting her clothes back on and getting ready to leave and the man's going to be like --
"Make sure to do a good job on those baseboards too, ok?"
I don't know, maybe I'm not really in a position to criticize -- I'm still hoping for something to break out for me on monster.com, but I just don't know if I really see an upside to the whole "topless maid" career track. Of course if things keep going the way they are maybe I'll be forced to reconsider, but anyone who's ever had me for a roommate or whatever can probably vouch that it's probably in my best interest to focus on the "topless" rather than the "maid" aspect if I want to stay in business for very long.

All of which gets me to thinking that my apartment has gotten kinda messy lately.

Maybe what I really need around here is some help.
Like I don't know -- a maid or something..
[Listening to: Social Distortion, "Story of My Life"]

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