Are you over 18?
How to Fuck a Stripper
And Still Have Money in Your Pocket
Most people think the way to a stripper’s pussy is with money, buying lap dance after lap dance, throwing stacks of singles on stage as they dance, and surprising them with expensive gifts. Those people are idiots. “Marks,” as the girls call them. Someone to be siphoned until not one drop of cash is left.
There is only one surefire way to pull a stripper and it has nothing to with personality or money (although those things don’t hurt). The secret is DRUGS.
Contrary to what many pro-stripper films and documentaries tell you, 9 out of 10 strippers are on drugs of some sort.* Be it coke, dust, weed, pills, booze, if a girl’s job is to climb up on stage and spread her gash for a bunch of sweaty, over-weight mutts in ill-fitting work clothes you’d better believe it takes a certain type of courage that can only be had from illegal substances. Knowing that, the key to making a needy young sex kitten your slave for the night (or the week) is to always be holding. But you have to make sure you’re carrying the right stuff for the type of stripper you’re trying to bang. It just so happens that this whole thing can be broken down racially. Along with the genetic yarns that make a woman a certain color go these little strands that decide their drug proclivities. Don’t freak out—I didn’t write the rules here. God did. I just follow them.
WHITE STRIPPERS (BLONDE)
White chicks love coke. It’s as simple as that. Any stripper worth sticking your dick in is between the ages of 18-28, meaning they were born between 1976 and 1986, which makes their moms either 70s disco coke whores or 80s yuppie coke sluts. Either way, the coke slut gene has been inherited by their daughter. When she asks if you’d like a lap dance, respond: “No, I want to get out of here and do some blow. What time are you done tonight?” That’s usually enough to get you in, but for added emphasis it helps to pull her to the side, dump some powder on your fist and give it to her to prove you’re for real. (Don’t buy beat shit. Strippers who love coke know coke. You’re not getting anywhere with shit that’s been stepped on ten times.)
WHITE STRIPPERS (TATTOOED AND/OR WITH PUNK HAIRCUTS)
This is a somewhat trickier bunch to read because they like pills and saying someone “likes pills” is like saying someone “likes music.” You’ve got to either roll the dice on a narrow spectrum of possibilities (uppers, downers, psyche, or pain) or you can be smart and invest in a smorgasbord of pharmaceuticals and have all your bases covered. There’s nothing worse than sparking a girl’s interest only to learn she likes Xanax and you’ve got a pocket full of Ritalin. Pretend that you’re going fishing and you’ve got an empty tackle box. You’re going to need a little of everything: lures, bobbers, hooks, etc. Pills are inexpensive ($5-$8 a pop), so see if you can work out a deal with your man on a variety bottle. At that price you shouldn’t think twice about pissing them away. Offer a blue to the first girl you see. If she takes it, she’ll go and tell the other girls. Give 10mg to each and every girl in the club. 10 strippers = 10 pills = 50 bucks. No big deal. If you have enough to get each girl high on the job, one of those girls is going to have enough brains to realize you’ve probably got more. She’ll be the one to ask you, “What are you doing later?”
The black stripper is difficult to snare, especially for a white male. Their drug of choice, weed, is the cheapest drug on the market and easiest to obtain. This makes them the most affordable fuck, but you’re white and you have to compensate. That’s where things get expensive. Don’t freak out, it’s still completely doable. First, start by tipping. Don’t go crazy. Just a dollar or two here and there to let her know you’re interested. This will automatically put you ahead of any black patrons in the club because it is well documented that black males do not tip at strip clubs.** Your next move is to have better than average weed. Like flowers, girls like weed that smells nice. It helps to tell them that it’s from your boy’s crop, and has been featured on the cover of High Times three times and it’s Redman and Snoop’s favorite weed. It’s important that this lie and the two following lies be convincing: “Yeah, I know Snoop,” and “Next time he’s in town, I’ll introduce you.” That should take care of it. For added effect I like to lie and say I make beats and ask them if they want to go over to my studio after they get off work. This helps to both sell the con and save money on hotel rooms. Be sure to know where a local recording studio is. A cheap one is between $75 and $150 an hour, which is cheaper than taking her to a nice hotel. Be sure to bring the new Usher CD and when her favorite song comes on tell her you made the beat. Then turn one of the knobs on that big mixing board thing in front of you.
That is correct, I am going to lump together all Asian, Latin, Paki, Euro strippers, along with anything else that might have just come off the boat and amputees. This category is really your best bet, especially Euro girls, because all they want is to be loved and taken care of and what drug emits more love than Ecstasy? The reality is you could give them mescaline and they’d take it without caring.*** A key with foreigners is to make them feel welcome in America. This is accomplished by telling them you don’t detect an accent, that they speak great English and that you basically understand and agree with whatever they are saying regardless of the fact that you can only make out every fourth word. To do this convincingly, you must practice. Go to your stereo and put on some rap music that you can’t understand the lyrics to (most any rap will work), turn up the volume just slightly, then go into your bathroom and shut the door. You should not be able to easily hear more than reverb and bass. Stare dead in the mirror, strain your ears and try to decipher the lyrics without looking unsure, without creasing your forehead and pursing your eyes. If you can convince your mind that you know every lyric to that Ghostface song, using only your eyes and facial expressions, you’ll be able win any foreigner over, completely negating their self-consciousness. Using drugs as bait, of course.
Before you go running to your phone to cop there are a few more things you need to be aware of when trying to run this kind of game. First, and most importantly, is that you don’t ever do the drugs. If you’re an addict don’t even bother because you’ll always take the drugs over the girl and might even get arrested for beating a girl for touching your shit without asking. You can get high all you want when she’s gone but while you’re with her you have to pretend to inhale, go take a piss when your turn to bang a rail comes around, throw the pill over your shoulder and pretend to pop it. Sounds lame but you need to have full control over the situation. I’m telling you from experience, strippers are cunning, any sign of weakness and you’ll wake up without your pants, your wallet and your drugs. Secondly, realize you only get one shot of pulling them out of the club. If it doesn’t happen that night, it doesn’t happen. Don’t play yourself by giving your number and don’t take a number. Consider it a failed attempt and go home and get high. Lastly, and I can’t stress this enough, don’t let them know where you live. If you can, take them to a hotel (or the studio). If you’ve blown all your money on the drugs and are forced to take them back to your place, take the most ridiculously fucked up route ever to get there. Then after you’re done with them, give some more drugs to fry their brain a little more and put them right in cab and send them on their way (instructing the driver to use an alternate, more confusing route.). As a child you had a great many dreams of things you wanted in your lifetime, and I’m pretty sure that a drug-hungry whore knocking on your door at 4 in the morning was not one of them.
*All research conducted and collected solely by Nieratko and proven to be 100% accurate.
For every gem like Nieratko’s missive above, we get ten clunkers that are entertaining in an entirely different way. (It’s fun to read pieces where retarded people try to think.)
We just so happen to have a “Not Fit to Print” piece here on exactly the same topic as the above article: How to fuck a stripper. Prepare to barf, because this is totally unedited…
YOU ARE NEVER GETTING IN
By Gloria Glory
One of the greatest things about dewds is their ability to assume every woman wants them. The greatest things about dewds are that they continue to believe this in places such as Strip Clubs. Let’s get one thing straight as far as we dancers are concerned it’s a JOB - period. Part of the job is finding your stories about eating a hot dog and then going home to take a crap the most fascinating hunk of conversation ever shared.
Well guess what you’re as sexy as a weather report, not a poet laureate; you are your own poetic justice. You would have a better chance screwing Queen Elizabeth after regaling her with your hair gel stories. Ergo, for the men who act like they are doing us a favor or tey bringing roses to a strip club because there was a “connection”, here’s a few reasons why you are doomed.
PLANNINNG TO GO TO THE CLUB:
Let me guess: You find yourself going alone or with all male jock friends who are horrible with women…
Solution: JUST STOP! Call your mom and explain that you are horrible with women, start to cry and then go to bed. It’s better than accidentally overhearing us mention that you are a gorgeous example of an unattractive guy.
YOUR ARRIVAL SUCKS
What you do: Apparently you haven’t called your mother yet so you think you are still in the game. SIT DOWN!
What you do:
Guys who come in and make a “mother fucking ruckus” translates into a “mother fucking fuck us - financially”. It pisses of everyone including the guy jacking off at his table. He even feels superior to you.
Gynecology row is a Gynecology No! Maybe sitting right in front the stage impresses a girl at a Sting concert but it a peeler bar it tells the girls you think went to a Sting concert.
Just do this: Sit to the side of the stage in the shadows like a sexy Vincent Price. DO NOT make a seen. How impressed do you think we’ll get you’re in a peeler bar for fuck sake.
The smell of a guy can be amazing if you’re into him but if not (ie you) your personal odor is as welcome as a waft of a stranger’s pepperoni belch. Cover it up with something, but before you do
ask yourself this: “Did I use a judicial amount of cologne or do I smell like I should be wedged between the pages of GQ? If you reek of shitty cologne go down the street to Planet Hollywood and find your wife.
Why we hate cologne:
The fact that I’m explaining this is making me furious! It REEKS and after smelling 40 different carefully chosen “scents” we’ve done more damage to our nasal cavity than the blow we just did. All your doing is effectively telling the girls that you have the expectations of a horny ten year old and you actually believe hip hop music videos are self improvement tapes.
ORDERING A DRINK
Make it short and sweet. The longer you take ordering while the waitress is there causes a log jam inhibiting you from being the man you think you are.
Complaining about drink prices in a strip bar is like complaining about not getting across the border American in a pot leafed “legalize it” shirt.
Why we hate it:
If you are losing your bald coconut over a $1.50 you’re not exactly going to be peeling out the dead Prime ministers for my perfect ass.
This is the deal ender is almost every case. You are in a strip club. Do you walk into a grocery store expecting free food cause your bragging about how much you eat?
Your cock, sex stories and financial success stories are BORING. If you somehow pull a David Copperfield they will figure it out on your date, in fact even Coppefield couldn’t hypnotize Claudia into staying with him.
Nothing. If you’re a human yawn there is little you can do in a five-minute conversation while “Shock The Monkey” is playing. Go home and shock your monkey.
WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!
Actually I want to stick with conversation. Let’s face it this is where men rule. They may have been wired to be aggressors and are individually convinced they would bring home the most from the hunt. Thanks to the implausible lessons of pop culture combined with their equally clueless friends, most guys think they are sexual warriors. Here are some golden moves courtesy of my last month at work.
Anyhow, check out how out of control it’s become.
1 - This line is from a guy in a VIP lounge whispered into the ear of Erotica “ If I told you who I actually am you would cum.. You have no idea how much I can do for you if we get along”
WHAT does that mean? Why don’t you just put on a cape, twirl around and throw a smoke bomb on the floor captain enigma?
2 - Here’s a line from a guy who was wearing a suit that looked and smelled like it was “stolen from a rotting corpse”
“I may be Chinese but I love Hitler. Followed by a Zieg Heil. This was his idea of casual conversation. Saying you love Hitler is rich enough but thinking a Zieg Heil will seal the deal is at least 4 Ice Ages ahead of its time.
I’LL BAKE YOUR MOTHER
3 - This one happened during a strippers birthday at a club We brought a home made cake to the club for a dancer(yeah we can be right fucking classy)
Guy: Can you bake me like you baked that cake?
Dancer: I’ll bake your mother.
Guy: What do you mean by that!? (Actually angry.)
4 - And Finally, just last night I got:
Guy: Inever get dances. Can I get your number? Or you want to come by my place.
Me: Look buddy, I’m not going to fuck you.
Guy: (self righteous) Who said anything about fucking? Maybe I just wanted to TALK and have some coffee. (then he made this ridiculous “upset” face.
(It was 3:30 AM)
SEE YOU NEVER
Well, good luck. If you can get your shit together and you do pick up, prepare for a life of work stories from your sweet heart about a thumb being squeaked up her ass at work when she wasn’t looking.
It won’t be me.
Everything You Need to Know About the Life of Nelson Mandela
Weediquette: Stoned Kids
Munchies: Jackson Boxer
Live Streaming the Ukrainian Revolt
Jihad Selfies: These British Extremists in Syria Love Social Media
The Internet Is a Giant Lie Factory
People in Colorado Are Now Shooting Themselves Faster Than They Can Die in Car Crashes
The VICE Guide to Travel: North Korean Motorcycle Diaries
I Have Voluntary Tourette’s (and Am Insane)