Kat has been stripping since 2003 and blogging about it since 2009. She works at a club next to the Chips Ahoy factory. Sometimes it smells like cookies but usually it just smells like cheap body spray. She doesn't think it's very funny to make fun of deceased prostitutes and doesn't see why you can't just stick with a good old-fashioned dick joke. You can find her on twitter. You may send mail to katstories [at] gmail.com but she must insist that you don't send her any form of poetry whatsoever.
I’ve never been to Pumps myself, but I can visualize a strip club with the lights on and the music off, the bartender counting out the till, the bouncer placing stools on the bar, and the dancers getting dressed. On a busy Friday night, this might be the first time they’ve all been in the same place at the same time. They can finally ask each other “what was up with those really drunk bitches?” and “did you see when they got kicked out and one of them screamed that she left her scarf and that we’re mean? It was amazing.” And then someone will note that maybe the supermoon brought out such bad behavior from a pair of women who didn’t look like they would be jerks. Some of them would give the two the benefit of the doubt and agree that they are probably nicer people when they’re not doing shots underneath a 14% bigger, 30% brighter moon. [READ MORE]
7. How To Kiss A Stripper Without Getting Burned We haven’t had the energy to respond every time Complex used content about sex work to get traffic this year, although we did here and here. (Want to be more irritated? You’re welcome.) This was a bad one though. Yes, watch out for those complimentary French kisses that come with every lapdance. If you want to know how Herpes simplex originated, imagine a Contagion-style montage that leads back to a stripper locking lips with a monkey who then gestures that he left his wallet in his other vest and gets kicked out by the bouncers. [READ MORE]
The one thing that all the well-adjusted, fiscally responsible, long-term sex workers I know have in common is a sense of humor. Not that I hate my job, but certain things have happened where I’ve had a choice of either collapsing into a fetal position and bawling, or folding over with laughter, with really no middle ground between the two. It’s like Abe Lincoln said, “I laugh because I must not cry.” (Actually, I just wanted to quote Abe Lincoln and have no idea whether he’s talking about the Civil War or what.)
As a fan of standup comedy, I’ve had to sit through too many jokes about my vocation to count. There are just so many strippers’-names-are-so-fake, dead hooker, and porn star bad childhood jokes out there.* Have you heard the one about how we’re all dead inside, which you can tell from our lifeless/soulless eyes? Yeah, me too, about a million times since I first heard it on Family Guy. Sometimes after I hear these jokes, I worry that people can smell the stripper on me, what with the blond mane and the not laughing. And then I wonder why these people at the open mic can’t make fun of their own coworkers at Kinko’s and why I can’t just see some comedy without being reminded of my daddy issues.
Where are all the sex-positive comedians with Women’s Studies degrees who can discuss Female Chauvanist Pigs? Wouldn’t it be nice if they were also Jewish and loved animals? These guys really exist and their names are Eli Olsberg** and Jake Weisman. They host a podcast called The Morning After and I love it. Each episode typically has one porn performer guest and one comedian guest and they all discuss the porn industry and life. [READ MORE]
For a city known for its strip clubs, it’s almost surprising that Portland didn’t have a cohesive red carpet-style industry awards show before last year. The PDX Strippies are the brainchild of LA (by way of Portland) occasional stripper/current burlesque lady, Hezzy Tayte, and Portland stripper and “one-woman production company” (not to mention Tits and Sass contributor), Rocket. Rocket happens to be one of the busiest and nicest people I know.
With a Halloween variety show that she single-handedly organized out of the way, we were able to sit down together at our favorite secret brunch spot. Over homemade pie and surrounded by octogenarians, we talked about what goes into putting on a stripper awards show. The first Strippies, held last December, had a slightly experimental DIY vibe. This year I can tell she really means business. No more portable stripper poles! [READ MORE]