Let’s get a little accuracy into those gentlemen’s joints.
Every man will find himself in a strip club at least once in his life, usually at a bachelor party, an office-outing-gone-wrong, or, God forbid, with their estranged father, having a 30-years-too-late sex ed talk. But if said man starts to make a regular habit of visiting strip clubs, he’ll start to notice two things – firstly, that he desperately, desperately needs to get a life, and secondly, that there are only about 10 names that all strippers share. So how about we drop all this “Tiffany” and “Crystal” business and suggest some more realistic names for the girls currently livening up that pole in the middle of the room.
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She's the complete opposite of Jamie Lee Curtis' bowels. Inactivia is the girl who listlessly shuffles around stage on her Lucite heels, making little effort to entertain or titillate. She never does any tricks on the pole. She barely dances. Her act pretty much consists of her taking her clothes off, then walking off the stage. Sure, she's hot, but so is soup, and there's more movement happening in a Cup O' Noodles than throughout her entire body. And frankly, a Cup O' Noodles would be more satisfying, and a hell of a lot cheaper, than a lap dance from Inactivia.
Caesarea, as you’d expect, has a prominent scar on her abdomen from one, two, maybe even three C-sections. At this point, Caesarea can't care about her appearance. She's the type of gal you find at a strip joint located on the highway next to the airport. She’s definitely not the most attractive stripper you’ll ever meet, but boy, does she know the quickest route to the departure lounge.
We would give all our money to a stripper named Cliché, because she’d automatically have an awesome sense of humor (especially if she spelled it “Kleeshay”). That’s assuming it’s her stage name, of course – if it’s her real name, then you’d have to presume that her parents doomed her to a life of inherent daddy issues, abusive boyfriends, abnormally high heels, and neon G-strings. Ah, well. At least she has a job.
A name that should be given to any stripper with a confirmed heroin addiction. Dorothy strips for money to feed her habit, so follow the yellow, pus-filled track marks down her arms. There is no singing, there is no good witch, and the only wizard who can help Dorothy is her dealer. Throw an extra buck or two her way if she happens to be wearing red heels (or an extra $10 if she has an act that involves a little person. Or a lion).
She stumbles around on and off the stage, reeking of booze, yelling at no one. She's the girl who drinks patrons' leftover drinks off the bar and tables. Heck, she'll even grab a drink from your hand if you're not careful. Less hot mess and more just regular old mess, you can't help but watch her to see what happens next.
Everyone loves Loosey. And why not? She's young, she's beautiful, and she's not afraid of going a little further for an extra buck, even if it's illegal. For Loosey, there is sex in the Champagne Room, if you're willing to pay for it, and aren't a cop. Just be aware that Loosey has a best friend, and if you partake in what she’s offering, chances are, you’ll also get intimately acquainted with the friend, too. And no one wants a guy who’s on a first-name basis with Chlamydia the Tattooed Lady.