Sorry, I thought you were cool, because you are hot, because you wanted to dance with me the first time I saw you. And I swear that if there was a shift where the other girls were getting dances but you weren't, I would give you one. Shit, if I had given the other dancers dances in the past, I might have given you one. But when you told me tips are $5, not $2, I had to wipe you off my queue, off my big brain, off my little brain and off my wallet for good. Bitch, I've been to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Version) for over a decade now. I was OK going from a buck to two because I quickly realized no one was tipping just a buck. But others have been tipping $2 for a long time. And if that's not true, I've been tipping $2 for a long time. And none of the other classy, nice strippers there have pitched a bitch-fit over this. I did not fall off the turnip truck yesterday, missy.
I wish I could give out her name. I spell out all the girls who give me lapdances and handjobs -- well, OK, I asterisk all but one of the girl's letters. But to not reveal the name of the ripoff bitch seems very backwards. Still, I can't do it. I know I should, but I can't. I'll just have to be content with not giving her any money anymore as my form of revenge.
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