I’ve never seen so many bitches with dreds patronizing a strip club. I’ve never seen so much PBR consumed at a strip club. I have never smelled so much B.O. and patchouli in a strip club.
All that said, and overlooking the fact that Portland is likely my least favorite city in the US, Sassy’s had hot bitches who eventually were fully nude. And because it’s a tattooed hipster haven, I think that, were I to go there by myself, I could probably hook up with a bitch fairly easily. No contact when tipping–what the fuck is wrong with the west coast?
I mean, seriously. These are the people who go to Sassy’s. Hipster as fuck. But, I mean, if the universe shits on me and I find myself back in this hive of heroin addicted communists, I will definitely revisit this place.
Everything’s a little bit off in Canada. Including the strip clubs.
We got to this joint right before last call (which, as I recall, was fucking midnight.) The bitches were collagen-ed to the nines, which ain’t really my thing. There was a no contact rule, so basically, to tip a bitch, you were supposed to hold a bill on the edge of the stage and wait for her to pick it up in between sets of writhing, while laying down, on stage. It was kinda like feeding the stingrays at Sea World…except that at least FEELS like touching pussy. A couple trailer trashy bartenders looked bangable, but whatever.
SUPER curious about the on stage shower.
Word to the wise: pilots know strip clubs. If you’re friends with any, and find yourself in an unfamiliar city with a pussy craving, hit them up for recommendations.
I found myself in shithole Baltimore and was advised to hit McDoogals.
The bartender was 300 lbs and there was a guy eating Hardee’s at the bar when I walked in. The decor reminded me of a Central Florida dive bar. But the bitches…
…were hot as fuck.
Each girl danced for three songs, the last fully nude. They’d then dismount and gleefully collect $1 from each patron. Additionally, it was BYOB…making it the cheapest strip club experience EVER.
Until, at least, my employee decided to buy me a lap dance. Look, if you’re gonna buy me a lap dance, LET ME PICK THE BITCH. I can tell which of them are into women and which aren’t. And when I get a dance from one who isn’t, she will fucking grind on me naked for three minutes and tell me about which dancers she doesn’t like and how old her kids are and it fucking desexualizes the experience for me.
Still, a great fucking place.
The town of Greenville, SC reminds me of the town from Footlose. There are signs forbidding skateboarding, signs forbidding minors from being in parks after dark, and, most telling, when I asked the 20-something dude at my hotel’s front desk if they had condoms, he balked, said, “no one’s ever asked me that,” and directed me to the one open gas station miles away.
Because of this, I wasn’t expecting much from Lust.
When we walked in, we were informed that it was a members only club. I asked the concierge if it was a sex club, a la Miami Velvet, the only other place I’d encountered that had to sign up patrons as members to get around not having a liquor license. She laughed and told us that it was the only way they could serve booze on Sunday. Then, she gave us a fuckton of change in $2 bills, which was awesome.
Cheap drinks, and pretty, polite girls. I was stunned by the amount of contact on stage. I fell in love with a gorgeous girl who admitted she was new to the game, and fell equally in love with a veteran tattooed goddess. $25 for two dances, which I experienced with my male companion. “Y’all married?” she asked. Not yet, honey. Not yet. (She later friended me on Facebook, which was a first for me.)
The manager had a nice conversation with us, no one hassled us, and NO HIP HOP.
Fucking great. Gotta love the South.
I don’t know why I bother reviewing Manhattan strip clubs. As previously stated, they’re all the same. Empty, topless only, high cover, expensive drinks, and full of entitled bitches who have been spoiled by the abundance of rich hedgefund guys and lawyers with cash to blow.
Private Eyes is one of a handful of Midtown West clubs. Cover is $15. The waitresses are the hottest bitches in the joint, and there are 2-3 lackluster dancers on stage at any given time. No artistry, no acrobatics, and no pole tricks.
There were some Latinas with banging bodies, and that’s this run of the mill tit dungeon’s only saving grace.
New York is the best city in the country. Commerce, activities, and tons of hot, smart people.
…but NYC (specifically Manhattan) has the WORST STRIP CLUBS EVER. I blame Giuliani. Topless only and infested with entitled bitches who get so much green from bored hedgefund guys, they think you need to pay their rent to get a titty in your face.
(It’s nearly Halloween, so every stripper had a terrible costume on. I think this was supposed to be a Russian nurse whore.)
VIP was particularly bad. On a Saturday night, they boast 32-40 strippers (I asked management) and about 20 patrons at any given time. There’s nothing more off-putting than walking into a club and feeling the palpable, “how am I gonna buy my illegitimate child diapers with these shitty tips?” discontentment of the girls on the floor.
But the best/worst thing about VIP? The bartender. This bitch was so fucked up. I ordered my friend a vodka and grapefruit, and she poured it in separate glasses. Immediately after serving us our drinks, she dove into the olives in the garnish tray on the bar.
…I wasn’t kidding. Bitch was scooping olives out of the tray and into her mouth with her bare hands while we laughed hysterically inches from her. This wasn’t an alcohol-related wastedness…pills or heroin, I’m guessing.
The only reason I’m not giving this shithole an “F” is because the management was extremely nice and gave us free passes when we left.
I’m a New Yorker, and as a result, I think every other city in the country basically sucks.
…except for Denver. Fuck, I love Denver. I spent most of the day shooting at a legal grow operation. A state where guns AND marijuana are loosely regulated and easy to obtain? Bliss.
When we’d wrapped for the day, I hit Shotgun Willie’s. Plenty of locals recommended it to me, and I wasn’t disappointed.
At 3pm on a weekday, bitches were hot and plentiful. The decor is a mix of kitschy faux Western and upscale 1980’s Miami. There are several small, circular stages trimmed with glass brick and colored lights. I fucking LOVE glass brick in a strip club.
The bartenders were nice, the strippers were nice, and the cover was $3. Just fantastic on all fronts. The greatest compliment I can pay this place is that the gay, non-drinking, British colleague I forced to go with me (“Just look at the dudes looking at the girls, dude!”) turned to me as we walked out and said, “Wow, I actually had fun there!”