Happy New Year! My honeymoon was great, thanks for asking! I got some freckles, a colonic (!!!), a belly full of MSG, and let me tell you I’m feeling perky as FUCK about all these new fitness studios I’m about to invest in.
But enough about my ambitious plans for self-improvement. Let’s talk about YOURS.
I get a lot of emails asking for advice on how to break into the industry of dry-humping-for-dollars. It’s time to impart some wisdom.
So, how to become a stripper? It’s easy!
The First Step is by far the hardest of all the steps.
Step 1: SHOW THE FUCK UP.
STOP going to strip clubs when you’re tanked with your attention-seeking girlfriends and START going when you’ve freshly shaven off 90% of your body hair and had the remaining strands blown-out. If you perform this step correctly, steps 2 - 425 will be a goddamn cake walk.
Stop thinking about going, and walk your fine ass to that titty bar. (It’s a great ass! And it isn’t getting any younger.)
I thought about being a stripper a few times in University when all I had in my fridge was a litre of salsa and a costco box of popsicles. In the only pair of ‘stilettos’ I owned, I would clunk around naked in my apartment, thinking, I can totally do this. Then I didn’t do it. Instead, I drank the remaining salsa and made a string of older men take me out for food.
See? I was just like you.
It took another year and 15,000 miles of estrangement from my native Canada for me to ovary up, walk into a strip club, and say, “Hi, I’d like to audition.”
I nearly shat my pants! But I did it. This hot old bird scanned me up and down indignantly, like I was a fart breezing in from a nearby construction site. After what felt like ages (~7 seconds) she un-scrunched her nose and said, “Come in on Monday.”
Stripper or not, showing up somewhere new and being judged on your appearance is part of everyone’s everyday. As long as people have eyes, meager critical thinking skills, and a desire to procreate, this will never change. Work with it. Play with it. Own it.
So I got hired! I didn’t even have to get naked! I shaved for nothing!
A lot of clubs won’t let you audition the moment you show up. Others let you jump right on the pole without even bothering to ask you to perform your over-rehearsed story about what happened to your green card (my dog ate it it was stolen I left it at home it’s in the mail).
The following Monday did not go as flawlessly as the routine I’m about to describe, but that first Monday was a lot of Mondays ago.
How to look Effortlessly Sexy™:
Shower like a goddess in a Nivea commercial: listen to Enya, waste a shit-ton of water, and shave with a fresh five-blade razor.
After you towel off and moisturize using the entire bottle of tinted Jergen’s shimmer slather, double click that peach-fuzzin’ mouse of yours! It’s relaxing, energizing, and makes you reek like the horny, fertile woman that you are. Waltzing around stinking like sex is a huge asset in the fantasy marketing business. (NOT LIKE SEX WITH A DUDE. If you smell like spunk it just won’t work. Trust me on this one.)
Get your hair blown out. I never get mine done professionally, as I do a pretty alright job by myself. Do not skip this step and put your hair in a goddamn ponytail. Men do not fantasize about fucking the shit out of a girl with a limp ponytail. You want and need that hair whipped. LEAVE THE CRIMPER UNPLUGGED.
Mani/Pedi that shit. You already know that nothing makes you feel more like a boss bitch than a fresh manicure. Paint them the same colour. (Guys get confused when things don’t match. Same goes for earrings.)
Wrap yourself in your finest dressing gown, silk robe or lingerie, and have ONE (ok maybe two, but no more than two or three ok maybe four if you’re taking the metro) glass(es) of wine.
Painting on your face: DO NOT be adventurous/creative/artistic/neat!/avant-garde/’bold’ with your makeup. Examine the cover of a vanilla-themed porno or Maxim, and copy the starlet’s look. It will probably involve bronzer, a nude eyeshadow palette, and lip gloss that looks and smells like marshmallows. Do NOT look at Vogue. If you want to make any money off straight men, avoid mags like iD and Dazed & Confused like the plague.
Listen to the soundtrack of Grease. These jams will make you stoked about going to fucking jury duty. Just be sure to skip ‘Hopelessly Devoted,’ and switch it to ‘Grease is the Word’ for the final strut from car to front door. (I tried listening to Lana Del Rey one day before an audition and damn I love me some Lana but that bitch put me in a bad way. Save Lana for when you come home after a bad night to chain smoke and make nachos.)
Show up alone (this is a freelance career you’re looking at. If you can’t go it alone, stop reading and march your ass back to that PR internship) and sober(~ish).
What to wear? Even though you’re about to embark on a solitary mission, the objective is to look like you’re a bridesmaid at your sorority sister’s Bachelorette party who really just wants to give that bartender in the cute fedora a blowjob.
(NO SASH, TIARA OR PENIS STRAWS. JUST THE GODDAMN BANDAGE DRESS AND STEVE MADDEN PLATFORM HEELS, CAPICHE?)
You’re hot, wet and ready to nail this audition!
Tune in next week or tomorrow or sometime between then to learn what to say to the manager, how to move like the efficient slut that you are, and when to know that you’ve been rejected (Spoiler alert! CLUBS ARE NEVER ‘FULL.’)