Tuesday, January 31, 2012

My Field Trip to the Strip Club

I went to The Strip Club this past weekend with some fellow classmates just to say we did it. Here's what happened :

Admission was $10 for women, $15 for men. mandatory 2 drink minimum, 5 dollars for a bottle of water or watered down juices and sodas. They should have said admission 20 dollars.... That's how the mother cluckers swindle you.
Natalie Portman as a stripper in Closer
The stage itself jutted outward like an erect johnson: a long runway for the women, a single pole at the end. We all sat around the stage in comfortable cushioned red velvet chairs. We were to be the walls of a vagina, at least that's how I saw it in my perverted head. There was impeccable lavender light work cast upon the stage that would make the most jagged of the dancing creatures dull and soften on the stage.
There was a topless woman on the stage. She could have easily been between the ages of 17- 24, but there was really no way of telling. Pseudonym: Ruby.  I don't know who lied and said strippers possessed gargantuan racks, but she was between an A and B cup, petite physic, still an attractive body. She was on the edge of the stage with her thighs split apart like an ocean trench, back arched, a sweet smile on her face,  the stereotypical clear 50 inch platform heels on her feet. She crawled over to a middle aged man. He wore his prescription glasses, suit, tie and a smirk. She rolled on her side with her back side facing him and slapped her derriere. He ejaculated a bunch of 1 dollar bills.

Ruby swept it up and did a slow seductive crawl to my company and I.  Smiling, she asked  how my night was going. I responded it was just getting started. She chuckled and danced offbeat to Drake's Practice. I started to scrutinize her dance skill, but stopped because it was the typical female thing to do. I wasn't enjoying this like the men were. I was enjoying the show like an episode of American Idol. She finished her dance, collected her cash and disappeared. She reappeared, asking my friend for a light and pulling up a chair to the group. She had a bra on now. Ruby was cute, cake faced and smiley; obviously stoned. She looked white, but hispanic.  I couldn't tell. The lighting mixed with the intense aroma of cheap perfume begins to mess with your head after a while
" How much do you make?" I asked Ruby
" The least I made a night was $150. The most a night I made was $1800." Ruby responded.
" So, ahem,  are you saying I can pay my college tuition in a couple weeks?"
" Yes. Do you see that stripper?" Ruby asked, nodding to the stage. The announcer who sounded like the host of a circus show, introduced her as Mya. Mya was stunning, a dime some might say. Tight small waist, breast like healthy cantaloupes and an apple booty. I don't know why I compare human body parts to food. She bounced each individual cheek. As far as I'm concerned, that was as rare as finding a person who can wiggle each individual ear,  or making a tongue into a four leaf clover. And the men went wild. She went to the pole ( which began to spin) and did some impressive moves.
A pole. When did it become such a sexual device? What's in a pole? Me sliding down the pole in the jungle gym, running away from who was "It" in a game of Tag. Me holding on a pole in the Subway. A fireman sliding down a pole. And then a woman swinging on a pole like Tarzan. I think a pole has great variety of usage.

" Mya paid for Med School stripping, and made so much money, she just kept right on stripping. When you're bringing in thousands weekly. It's not a bad job at all."
In retrospect, the pole must be DUTTY.  We all didn't really know how filthy the strip club was, and fuck it, we didn't really want to know. We all didn't know how dirty the strippers were, but at that time we weren't even contemplating that. At that moment, they were the most clean, beautiful women in the world, the most powerful in the room. In a strip club, nothing is as it seems. That's why I kept my hands on my lap.

" These girls work hard, so you can stay hard!" The voice jockey boomed, sounding like  Bozo The Clown.
My friend started to tap my shoulder and pointed out a group of men that were starting at me rather than Mya. who was spread eagle and thong-less with a face screwed in pure, unadulterated ecstasy. I had my coat on.

" My real name is Vicky by the way, not Ruby hunnie." Vicky/ Ruby said
" Oh! My name is Michelle." I responded, lying of course.

" So, are you thinking about working here?"

I looked on the stage and a stripper named Jenny had her legs wide open, with 5 piercings on her vagina. Her clitoris was the size of a marble. I shivered in shock.

This is all 100% True

Sighs of love for Princess Dulcinea

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Turning 19 Years Old

So, it is official,  I'm 19 years old! Whoop!
I don't necessarily feel the difference from being 18 or 17. I rather enjoyed being the perfect 18.
 It's an even number,  the first age you get a spoonful of responsibility and the title of jailbait is expunged. 19 is quite pointless, it's like I'm stuck in the in between. You don't get any cool upgrades like the 18 year old, and it's a undesirable odd number. Goodness gracious! Round up or down!

I went out to dinner twice: on my B Day at Juniors with my friends and Diego. The following day, I went out to dinner at my favorite Japanese restaurant Naturi with my sisters and grandmother . It was pleasant, but at the end of the day, it wasn't a memorable celebration like last years wild shin digg. My birthday lacked MAGIC.

One of my most sour memories is my 11th birthday party.
I wore my sparkly Wizard of Oz Mary Jane shoes with a  matching disco dress and stared out of the window for arriving guests as a blizzard roared,  hopeful with a smile on my face. Winter birthdays are a  bitch! No one came, and I cried myself to sleep fully clothed with a fractured heart. Reminiscing about it now, I feel the burn of disappointment. WHATEVER.

Birthdays mean nothing in actuality. Nothing changes.
Events are what essentially age us. Every time something momentous occurs in out lives: ZING! We should increase our ages; similar to leveling up in a video game!
Think about it though. When I went to Europe on my own at 17 years, I swear when I returned I felt 21 years old. And every time you do something dumb, you should get younger. I know 30 year olds who are 12 according to what they've accomplished in life.  How old do you think you really are? Ponder on that.


Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Bad Ass...

So, this me on New Years. I'll reveal some random things about this photo and me.

  1. - I'm drinking some orange soda. I rarely drink. It's so pointless to me and it tastes like ass cheeks. 
  2. - My grandma bought me the fake fur coat I'm rocking. Got to love her
  3. - Isn't the ring bad ass?!?! My finger was cut up when the night was through. 
  4. - I love looking mean in photos. It looks good on me rather than smiling. Eww. I should have been born in those days when smiling was unacceptable in photographs. 
  5. - I wore this hat because my hair was EFFED UP!
  6. - This was one if the best nights ever. 

Movie Review: Shame

Michael Fassbender and Carey Mulligan in SHAME. 
First and for most, I would like to admit to my obsession with actor Michael Fassbender which was the driving force for me seeing the movie in the first place. I've become enamored by his wide variety of movie roles he continues to choose,showcasing his undeniable talent; how he attacks each role with maturity and honesty that I do not see in mainstream actors these days. From Magneto in X Men First Class to a doctor in A Dangerous Method, he is simply outstanding. Maybe it's his appearance: sharp, bright, attacking eyes, hollow cheeks and sharp bone structure and his lean and slim body which strikes me so. I don't know, but I have a jones for this man.
Ahem, anyway! Back to the movie.
On a scale from 1-5, I give it a 41/2. The long dragged out scenes of him jogging just about annoyed me, probably a stylistic choice of director Steve Mc Queen, but I could absolutely do without it.
I loved the rawness of the film; the candid shots of the NYC I intimately know where accurate. At times in such a populated city, you can manage to find yourself lonely, and I remembered that feeling watching the movie.
And Yes, this was a movie about a man's severe addiction to sex, and man did the film have a lot of it; countless scenes of Fassbender's character " Brandon" uncontrollably wanking off when he would get that feeling. Sex with prostitutes, random woman and whoever gave it up to him made me wonder how many STD's he had. Lol.
The audience waited for him to have sex with his visiting younger sister played by the AMAZING Carrie Mulligan( Who I also have a jones for ;)) but they didn't, thank god. I would have pooped an golden egg if they did.
The most shocking part that left me clenching my butt cheeks in horror was when he entered a gay S&M club to receive oral sex from a stranger. Yeah, he hit rock bottom and continued that night on a sex binge.... It was very uncomfortable to watch, but that's what I love in a movie: The ability to make me uncomfortable.
Well Done!
 I recommend this movie to anyone who likes scandalous films that do NOT hold back. This isn't a family movie by any means. It recieved a double whammy rating of NC-17. Michael Fassbender's johnson is shown throughout the entire film.
 Yeah, it went there.

 Jade Élodie

1st Visual

I wanted the first blogged photo of me to be a semi honest photograph. I say semi honest because I don't know how I look to the world, but this is how I would like to look. I was told in real life that I make a lot of animated faces and there's no set face to me. But whatever, here's my mugshot. 

I don't know where I'm going with this...

Hi, my name is Jade.
I honestly don't know what I'm starting with this blog or where I'm going. I don't know if anyone will actually read or take notice to this blog, but I guess this is how the beginning of everything is: silent and utterly lonely. So GOD created a bunch of creatures to keep him company.. and I created this blog.

Close enough.

It's the New Year, and I was going to begin this blog January 1st 2012, but I got lazy, time zipped on and now it's the tenth day into the new year and it's not as special as starting it on the 1st. Oh well, you know how the old cliche goes: Better late than never.

Will this blog have a purpose? It will be more contained and relevant to my life than Tumblr, but with more insight than Face book. A blog dedicated to my stifled narcism. LOL.
And if not a soul reads this other than my best friends, they'll suffice.
And if those bitches don't read it, this will just be a diary that just happens to be online and I'll have to conjure up some imaginary readers to keep me blogging. I know I wouldn't be the only one.

Jade Élodie