What would your stripper song be?
I realise it’s been about a month since I last posted some random thoughts, so thanks for hanging around.
By way of explanation as to my laxness with posting, my last month in London comprised a mate coming over for three weeks and us going to Madrid, Paris and Brighton for weekends; hooking up with a guy who has set the bar for white noise much much lower when after 3 dates told me he’d applied for a visa to come to Australia with me (and because I thought he was joking, as surely no one could be that mental, I laughed and said “Great! Come live with me.” Note to self, learn from this mistake) and finally having my boss acknowledge my resignation.
However, it is Madrid from which this topic has been inspired.
I’m currently in Toronto (indeed just back from Niagara Falls) having just been to Lollapalooza in Chicago and just want to bang this out so I can get back to travelling.
So, Madrid… Madrid is pretty much known world wide for being a party town. It doesn’t really come alive until about 10pm each night, but after 10 it’s a town in which to cut loose.
So, after a big night in Islington on the night of my mate’s arrival (and the first time we’d seen each other since I left Aus in June last year) we woke feeling fairly rough. One English breakfast and about litre of espresso later and while it no longer hurt to blink, we were a long way from on form.
So, the only thing to do was obviously down a hair of the dog. So, champagne on trusty Gatwick Express and away we went for what we had decided was going to be a bender more than any cultural visit. I’d been in Madrid in March and had spent a day in the Prado/seen the palace etc; she’d been as a kid and we figured art didn’t change that much.
So arrived at our hostel in Madrid about 4pm, hit up our American dorm mate Brady for company and action and before we could say no we were in a tapas bar drinking cerverza with Brady, another Aussie and a girl from Denmark.
After about 3 beers I decided that we should all go to a strip club, as what goes on tour stays on tour. Not surprisingly Brady was keen, the Aussie and Danish girl not so much, but I can mount a convincing argument so after a few more beers we were stumbling blindly through Puerta del Sol led by my confident “I know where they are”. I have, embarrassing as it is to admit, previously gotten lost in a Virgin Mega Store in New York when I lost sight of the door and so lost all bearings. Wandering around the stacks for about 15 minutes becoming more and more concerned that I would be found in a foetal ball in the indie section days later… so how I got to lead the expedition is still beyond me.
However, lead I did and after a minor incident when I was sent into a sex shop to ask for directions (interestingly my Spanish class did not cover “where are the strip bars?” and our new friend Brady spoke fluent Spanish) and was given the directions and a short pantomime of the action to be expected as a sex club… we ended up at a cabaret/strip bar.
Faced with now having to pay a cover charge for something they weren’t keen on anyway, the Aussie and Danish girl pulled the pin so we all escorted them back to the hostel, muttering “tomorrow we’ll ditch them and come back by ourselves”.
So, the next evening after picking up a completely random American in one of those meat bars (where they hang carcasses on display under which you can smoke) we returned to the strip club.
From a heterosexual female perspective, once your eyes adjust to the neon and you get over the “I’m in a strip club”; you see the fairly skanky brass and audience members (lots of single guys who do not blink much) a strip club is fairly dull. So you have to invent things to keep you interested.
Hence the question: what would your stripper song be? Everyone knows the porn star name game – first street on which you lived and first pet name… but the more telling question is what would your stripper song be, as from that you get insight into how the person sees themselves naked and if you’re bored enough you can imagine costumes, shoes… the whole nine yard.
Random American guy chose Bad by Michael Jackson, which made me laugh like a crazy person until I realised he was serious and then tried to cover by coughing and saying “good choice”. I obviously now have an image of him dressed in faux military attire stripping to a creche.
And I believe some Gwen Stefani and ACDC also made our stripper play list.
Most hilariously was watching the dancers come out and wipe down the pole with disinfectant wipes after the previous girl had finished her dance. However this did lead to consternation as the first three dancers did not wipe down the pole, and so shimmied their way up a used pole.
My mate also got a helpful tip from one of the kindly brass in the bathroom that the liquid soap she was using was in fact not soap but “for play”.
As for my stripper song… I’d like to say Sweet Jane (Velvet Underground original, not cowboy junkies cover) but as I’m currently on the road, slowly making my way back to sunny Sydney suspect that It’s time to Go Home is more appropriate!
By way of explanation as to my laxness with posting, my last month in London comprised a mate coming over for three weeks and us going to Madrid, Paris and Brighton for weekends; hooking up with a guy who has set the bar for white noise much much lower when after 3 dates told me he’d applied for a visa to come to Australia with me (and because I thought he was joking, as surely no one could be that mental, I laughed and said “Great! Come live with me.” Note to self, learn from this mistake) and finally having my boss acknowledge my resignation.
However, it is Madrid from which this topic has been inspired.
I’m currently in Toronto (indeed just back from Niagara Falls) having just been to Lollapalooza in Chicago and just want to bang this out so I can get back to travelling.
Lollapalooza, Chicago 3-5 August. Another festival wrist band to add to my collection.
Daniel Johns from silverchair playing Lollapalooza
Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada
So, Madrid… Madrid is pretty much known world wide for being a party town. It doesn’t really come alive until about 10pm each night, but after 10 it’s a town in which to cut loose.
So, after a big night in Islington on the night of my mate’s arrival (and the first time we’d seen each other since I left Aus in June last year) we woke feeling fairly rough. One English breakfast and about litre of espresso later and while it no longer hurt to blink, we were a long way from on form.
So, the only thing to do was obviously down a hair of the dog. So, champagne on trusty Gatwick Express and away we went for what we had decided was going to be a bender more than any cultural visit. I’d been in Madrid in March and had spent a day in the Prado/seen the palace etc; she’d been as a kid and we figured art didn’t change that much.
So arrived at our hostel in Madrid about 4pm, hit up our American dorm mate Brady for company and action and before we could say no we were in a tapas bar drinking cerverza with Brady, another Aussie and a girl from Denmark.
After about 3 beers I decided that we should all go to a strip club, as what goes on tour stays on tour. Not surprisingly Brady was keen, the Aussie and Danish girl not so much, but I can mount a convincing argument so after a few more beers we were stumbling blindly through Puerta del Sol led by my confident “I know where they are”. I have, embarrassing as it is to admit, previously gotten lost in a Virgin Mega Store in New York when I lost sight of the door and so lost all bearings. Wandering around the stacks for about 15 minutes becoming more and more concerned that I would be found in a foetal ball in the indie section days later… so how I got to lead the expedition is still beyond me.
However, lead I did and after a minor incident when I was sent into a sex shop to ask for directions (interestingly my Spanish class did not cover “where are the strip bars?” and our new friend Brady spoke fluent Spanish) and was given the directions and a short pantomime of the action to be expected as a sex club… we ended up at a cabaret/strip bar.
Faced with now having to pay a cover charge for something they weren’t keen on anyway, the Aussie and Danish girl pulled the pin so we all escorted them back to the hostel, muttering “tomorrow we’ll ditch them and come back by ourselves”.
So, the next evening after picking up a completely random American in one of those meat bars (where they hang carcasses on display under which you can smoke) we returned to the strip club.
From a heterosexual female perspective, once your eyes adjust to the neon and you get over the “I’m in a strip club”; you see the fairly skanky brass and audience members (lots of single guys who do not blink much) a strip club is fairly dull. So you have to invent things to keep you interested.
Hence the question: what would your stripper song be? Everyone knows the porn star name game – first street on which you lived and first pet name… but the more telling question is what would your stripper song be, as from that you get insight into how the person sees themselves naked and if you’re bored enough you can imagine costumes, shoes… the whole nine yard.
Random American guy chose Bad by Michael Jackson, which made me laugh like a crazy person until I realised he was serious and then tried to cover by coughing and saying “good choice”. I obviously now have an image of him dressed in faux military attire stripping to a creche.
And I believe some Gwen Stefani and ACDC also made our stripper play list.
Most hilariously was watching the dancers come out and wipe down the pole with disinfectant wipes after the previous girl had finished her dance. However this did lead to consternation as the first three dancers did not wipe down the pole, and so shimmied their way up a used pole.
My mate also got a helpful tip from one of the kindly brass in the bathroom that the liquid soap she was using was in fact not soap but “for play”.
As for my stripper song… I’d like to say Sweet Jane (Velvet Underground original, not cowboy junkies cover) but as I’m currently on the road, slowly making my way back to sunny Sydney suspect that It’s time to Go Home is more appropriate!
