Why you don’t have to party it up in Vegas

Dearest Reader,

In a moment of intellectual weakness, I recently indulged in watching the first Hangover movie to forget about adult life by watching other adults completely ruin theirs. I have been to Vegas in the past, and while I enjoyed my brief time there, I am sad to say I didn’t wake up with Mike Tyson’s tiger in my bathroom.

A few days later, I sat for lunch with a couple of friends, and as the wine began to take over, we stopped to appreciate our levels of freedom, and the fact that as single ladies with no kids, we could literally pick up our things right now and go to Vegas.

In fact, we could stay for two months if we so pleased, we could do whatever the hell we wanted over there, we could gamble away our money because we worked for it and owe nothing to nobody, and we could hire all the strippers we wanted, and we could party party party all night long!

It took a moment of silence to realise that while we could certainly do all these things, it sounded like a horrible idea.

“We don’t like to party party party,” one friend said.

“This is true,” I admitted.

“And we don’t like to gamble, and if we want to watch a show we can watch it here, and if we want to see a bunch of shit-faced dickheads looking for hookers, we could also see them here,” I added.

“Exactly. Instead, we like to do this,” said my friend, pointing at our table and surroundings.

By this, she means of course sitting by the water in the sun over a boozy lunch. There is food to share, there is music, there are other people to observe and most importantly, there are alcoholic beverages of which some are pink and sparkle.

Yes, we officially calmed down a notch, I thought. But it is because we had those party times and frankly, we are just over it. And I’m finally ok with it!

So we quickly moved away from planning a getaway that would be filled with depressing gambling addicts, mild sexual harassment by Bachelor party crowds and vomiting at Caesar’s Palace.

Instead, we dreamed of places we could go to where some handsome young men would serve us beverages by the ocean and massage us while we fabulously enjoy the sun. We would then have naps and repeat this at dinner time.

And why pay for chewed-up strippers in Vegas if you could be sipping a Mojito somewhere in the Caribbean while observing beachgoers smear coconut oil all over themselves right in front of you?

We are women for God’s sake. If you smile and wave at said oiled-up beachgoer, they’ll come over and try to entertain you with pick-up lines, drinks and compliments, maybe even flexing their muscles to impress, so that’s a wonderful show to enjoy.

In short, calming down is awesome – it’s the classier version of the younger you. And from what I imagine, it smells of coconuts and tastes of Caribbean rum.

Do strippers need a resume?

Dearest Reader,

Depending on where you live, various forms of adult entertainment are either practised illegally or they are regulated by the government and therefore easier to find in the streets of your town.

Having grown up in Germany, the presence of strip clubs and brothels are nothing special for me, but this is not so commonplace here in Sydney.

That is not to say that there aren’t any. They are there. I know it, you know it, the government knows it. But we pretend they don’t exist and that we’re above this, which we certainly aren’t, especially not anyone who works for the government. But I digress.

On a recent visit to Brisbane, I noticed a great number of brightly advertised strip clubs in the CBD area, I didn’t even have to go to the seedy side of town and customers walked in and out quite freely (though always visibly carrying the ingrained Catholic school shame, which is delicious.)

In Germany, such establishments often have windows, so you can see the ladies inside. But this Brisbane version was a much more discreet affair, with no windows and several curtains before the entry to the main show hall.

Therefore, despite my nosiness, I saw nothing from the outside. Not even a nipple.

But what I did see instead was a giant job advert on the outside. I can’t remember the exact wording, but it included the following information:

  • They were looking for ‘sexy ladies’
  • You should be able to ‘dance’
  • You could ‘start immediately/tonight’
  • You could earn ‘$$$$’

And it got me thinking. 

Can I just walk in and, like, start?

Do I need to give someone a private show at the back to show my dance moves?

Do I need a resume? What should it say?

Do I need to bring my own clothes and tiger underpants, or is this classified as some sort of work uniform which is provided?

Can I choose the music or do I need to work with whatever you got there?

Can I get free drinks in addition to my $$$$?

Are the $$$$ paid into a bank account or is it all going to be stuffed into my previously mentioned tiger underpants?


Does my stage name need to be something obvious, like ‘Turkish Delight’, or could it be something more amusing for me, like ‘Maria’, to freak out all the Catholics in the room?

Do I need to make conversation with customers or just dance around the room?

Can I ask customers to give me a lap dance and smack their bottoms?

I have so many questions.

If there are any professional strippers reading this, I’d love to know how this application process works.

I’d really like to know.