There's this girl at work who I don't have to see very often, thank gawd. She is a compulsive liar. She claims that she lived in Vegas, made $3000 a night at the Spearmint Rhino (every time she worked, never an off night for her!), dated Jeremy Piven, and appeared in an episode of Entourage.
Oh, did I mention she looks like she combs her hair with dynamite? Well, she does. I'm sure the light socket is all she needs when she gets ready before work. She sure doesn't wear a speck of makeup and her "costume" consists of a white bra, a black skirt, and a black thong with black heels. So that's what they want in Vegas? Wow, news to me. And of course, this all begs the question, "Why aren't you working there instead of here in podunk Indiana that you hate so much?"
Argh.
Add assorted egotistical men into the equation---which brought up the Vegas thing. I was saying that this dude told me I needed to work in Vegas and how I told him that it's really hard out there and not all of the dancers make a shitload of money every night. That's when compulsive liar chimed in with her outrageous claims.
Despite all of this I still had a pretty good night, above average, actually.
And as I'm leaving I hear all these girls bitching about how they are lucky to make $200, blah blah. I never leave with that little so I said, "Well, maybe you guys need to get here earlier, I know several girls who make consistently good money here." Obviously they didn't want to hear that. But fuck them! I am sick of the negative ninnies in the dressing room. Every time they open their claptraps I want to come back with bragging about what I really do make. But I don't do that because I'm not that type of person. But it drives me nuts!



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