(All photos are courtesy of Hypnox Productions)


It began with a long drive out to Hillsboro, Oregon, also known as BFO, or Butt Fuck Oregon. The spacious parking lot of the Runway Club was already almost full, and I motored past the flashing lights of the #VaginaMobile, to squeeze my tiny car next to a trailer. The sun was setting, and the excited energy was palpable.

It was 9 PM on a recent Thursday, and the stage was set for the world infamous Vagina Beauty Pageant. Runway is a newer club, about a year old, and I was pleased to see that their shift dancers varied in body shape from XXXtina Aguilera-thin to Taystee OITNB thick. Generally, Portland city dancers tend to be slender, white, and tattooed.

Much like all clubs though, the crowd was an even mix of single guys tipping, creepy guys leering, throw in a couple of jealous girlfriends sneering, and plenty of dancers hustling and heel-clacking.

The pageant’s creator, Dick Hennessy, took the stage and announced the rules. As usual, there would be no photography or touching allowed by the audience. Event photographer Hypnox handed a video camera to fellow judge Reed McClintock, at my left, and Vice contributor Susan Shepard readied her cell camera, as did I.

In contrast to last year’s scoring, contestants would be judged in two different ways. Performance scorecards would be held up after each competitor’s performance, visible to all. Privately, we passed index cards marking our score of the performers’ aesthetics. Hennessey devised this method specifically to avoid hurt feelings.


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(image via Flickr user mauradotcom)

(image via Flickr user mauradotcom)

This post originally appeared in Maggie McMuffin’s personal Tumblr, All Jazzed Up Like A Catsuit Monarchy.

Here are ten basic problems that I frequently encounter at work. If they aren’t daily problems, they come up weekly or bi-weekly.

Remember to show your work as it appears in your head because you will be doing this math in the dark, in a hurry, with loud music playing.

If the question pertains to a club that works on percentages rather than a flat fee, please show your methods on paper so that if the manager tries stiffing you for 40 bucks you can show them your records. You may not get that 40 dollars but you can at least let them know that you keep track of your money so that they’ll be less likely to stiff you in the future.

Remember to keep track of each and every dance in your head in case a customer tries to argue about how much he owes. [READ MORE]


Strange TalesPortland-based stripper and Tits and Sass contributor Elle Stanger has compiled an anthology of personal stories from strippers from across the U.S. Strange Times: Tales from American Strippers includes pieces by Tits and Sass co-founder Kat, contributors Lily Fury and Red, and other notable dancer literati like Lux ATL. Stanger has this to say about her compilation: “There are so many stripper tell-alls, and each important in their own right, but I really wanted a collection of voices that focused more on the ability to witness humanity from varied perspectives, that wasn’t solely about the protagonist herself… When I began speaking with current and former strippers around the country, each woman was unique, and yet there was a commonality among them. A shared kind of insight.” We’ve posted a selection by Clementine below. 



Most hours I’m just passing—waiting for that one opportune moment—the mythical lapse in which something finally gives and I find my mind, my body, my heart—all in agreement with the preponderance that now is the moment when the most viable option is simply to let go. In most narratives, this might be when the writer would let the audience in on their little secret—saying Oh, but it wasn’t always this way. Let me tell you how it happened… But the truth is it has always been this way. [READ MORE]


(Image by Nicolas Royne,  via Flickr and the Creative Commons)

(Image by Nicolas Royne, via Flickr and the Creative Commons)

One of the brightest spots of sex work activism is when some bright-eyed bushy-tailed sex-worker-to-be finds her way into the space and wants to know the best way to get into our sordid business. “Come, little one! Join me in the fresh hellscape that is the business of selling sexual services,” I declare, fancying my mentorship style half old-school brothel manager chain-smoking Virginia Slims, half Archimedes the uptight but good-hearted owl from Disney’s Sword in the Stone. But one of the darker spots of the same situation is when these apprentices say things like, “I think I could start with something easy like stripping.” Oh, girl. You did not.

It is times like this that I wish I had this story in my back pocket to pull out and give to would-be strippers that think dancing is the Diet Coke of sex work. It is the story of a man with a shit-eating grin and a monumental sense of entitlement calling the police on a stripper who denied him sex in a VIP room in the appropriately named city of Butte, Montana. To recap, this man believed that the denial of sex from a stripper was not only a criminal offense but a criminal offense worth escalating to involvement with law enforcement. The sense of entitlement to sexual services beyond the ones on the official job descriptions are ones to which strippers are subjected regularly. While it is newsworthy because the guy actually called the cops, strippers know that boundary-pushing clients are part and parcel of the sexual and emotional labor of stripping.



All photos courtesy Dick Hennessy Productions/Hypnox

All photos courtesy Dick Hennessy Productions/Hypnox


At 10 p.m. last Thursday, I sat myself in the judges’ row at Club Rouge in downtown Portland for the fifth annual Vagina Beauty Pageant. There were six judges, two poles, 22 competitors and 23 vaginas. Wait, what?

“Didja hear the story?” pageant staff photographer Hypnox shouted over the music. “Apparently, when she was a young lady and used a tampon for the first time, she inserted it but the blood didn’t stop flowing.”

The Vagina Pageant has been criticized for its somewhat anatomically incorrect moniker. However, I’d like to state that while it might be called the Vulva Pageant, within seconds of the contest’s beginning I really did view the inside of a vaginal canal and would see several more throughout the evening.

I spied my coworker Juniper Knox from Lucky Devil Lounge across from me, fondling a blow up doll’s breasts and lip syncing to Aaliyah. Nearer, judge Rachel Reckless sat stretched and crossed her long tattooed legs, sipping her drink through platinum-capped teeth. Beside her was Jedidiah Aaker of Portlandia fame (he’s the bearded guy in the thong). To my left was Nik Sin, all 3’6” of him looking devilishly handsome. Nik has appeared on Oddities, Portlandia, Jerry Springer and Maury, and has toured the country doing his Mini Marilyn Manson impersonation. Judge Tres Shannon, of world-famous Voodoo Donut, looked across the room. “I should check on my friend, Poster Boy. He doesn’t know anybody,” he said.

“He smells bad,” I said.

“He has butter on his dick.”

That wasn’t what I expected to hear. Although I already feared that I knew the answer, I asked “Why?”

“He gets lap dances.”

Suddenly the house lights were raised, “so that the judges could see better.” I cringed at the thought of the inability to hide treacherous razor burn and blemishes. Red light absent, shit was gonna get real. [READ MORE]