Tomorrow is the day of reckoning – I start writing the memoir. So, if you were ever a jerk to me, watch out. And if I was ever a jerk to you, I promise you your day of reckoning is coming too.
I paid a business coach a thousand bucks to hold me accountable for this. A thousand American bucks in fact, so a zillion Canadian.
Been talking about doing this for a very. long. time. So long in fact that I’m not exactly sure WHEN I started talking about it. Looking through old notes it was as long ago as 1997. (Yes, I have notes going back to 1997 and even 1986) And the idea was dancing around my head while I danced around the pole for at least a couple of years before that. So basically 20 years. Truly, I’ve always been a late starter. But once I get going, I always finish what I’ve started.
Not really sure how I’m going to do this, just that I am going to write 888 words a day for 69 days.
Went through what’s left of my old stripper pics tonight and emailed a bunch of them to myself so I don’t lose them forever accidentally.
I thought I’d put most of them in my book and some here on the blog. So I’m going to leave you with a very tame picture tonight, but a very official one.
In 1996, already my TENTH year of dancing, a new and controversial practice was started in the city of Windsor (and I believe they were the first of MANY cities) and all the strippers were ticked because it was an obvious cash grab and nothing more. I think we had to pay the City of Windsor $125 a year and in exchange for that we got this little plastic card and we got to NOT go to jail if we produced said card when the cops came around the clubs randomly asking for licences.
Actually I remember now that ‘they’ said it was so no under aged girls would dance. So they gave a shit about your well being until you were 18 and after that, you could legally become a slut and even get a little card to prove it!
So all of the dancers in Windsor had to get a licence to be a “Burlesque Attendant”. I wonder who the hell came up with that staid moniker. It sounds like I’m taking tickets at a toll booth in a g-string and boa. I can imagine all the councillors at city hall trying to figure out what to call us, volleying different designations around – “How about Unclothed Performer?”
“Let’s go with “Striptease Artist!”
“I say we just stick with “Skank!”
Anyway, here I am as an ‘official’ Skank in 1996. Cheese!