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Every other day of the week is fine, but Monday-Monday …

I went to work on Monday. I haven’t gone to work on a Monday since I can remember.

Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever worked on a Monday in Vegas a single time in three years. I haven’t put too much thought into it but I suppose it just seems like the least popular time of the week to go to a strip club. People abandon fantasies on Mondays because people are knee deep in reality. Mondays begin at dawn and are an endless avalanche of paperwork, moral responsibilities and fat wives.

I worked on Monday for a few reasons. I normally work the whole weekend but I didn’t work on Friday because I had important stuff to do Saturday morning. Saturday night, I came in late and hid in the locker room to contemplate life, engage in some cathartic gossip and then start crying when I thought I wouldn’t get caught. Two parts vodka, one part PMS and a pinch of romantic problems makes the perfect recipe for a good cry. It turns out I can change clubs but I can’t escape myself. A new hair color, new boobs, a new strip club, I can’t get away. Where ever I go and what ever body I inhabit, there is no escape. Sunday I was a hungover blob of silicone and spray tan curled up on my friend’s living room floor.

Black Bird got back from Alaska a few days ago. She’s 5½ months along and still stripping. She wanted to go to work on Monday night and she wanted me to go with her so I went. She’s rounding out nicely. Her bump is solid and bigger than a grapefruit. We went shopping for drapey dresses that she could wear at work that would hide her bump. She is paying the club extra money to keep her off stage since it would be far too easy to see that she’s knocked up with all the lights on her. Some girls look pregnant in the unforgiving lights on the catwalk even when they’re just chunky. Black Bird could get suspended or fired for working in her delicate condition if management found out. I hear it’s some kind of big insurance issue.

So Monday night I left in the negative. I performed no lap dances and made $21 onstage and it covered less than half my house fee. I imagine that most of the girls there that night couldn’t make a profit. We all sat at the bar like a row of vultures scowling at the few cheap customers that we far outnumbered. October is generally a decent month for work but it was no match for the sobering powers of Monday.

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