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I LOVE THE NIGHTLIFE by Carla Ridge In this case, it was JURISprudence who emerged in full frolic. Indeed, Carla and her ever-ready revelers were recently called upon to judge a dance contest. These were no snood- and zoot suit-clad Lindy Hoppers, however; nor were they gowned and tuxedoed ballroom babies. In fact, the brave competitors who assayed their skills at Sam's Hofbrau this fateful eve were wearing little more than G-strings. Yes, my pretties, this was an EXOTIC dance contest. The stakes were high, with $1,500 going to the winner (the dancers who placed second and third were awarded $800 and $300, respectively; all the contestants were allowed to keep their tips, with some girls earning vast showers of bills). Upon entering Sam's - which not long ago was rightly named Best Strip Club in Los Angeles by The New Times (L.A.) - we were dismayed to discover that half the audience were also judges. Oh well - we did get ringside seats and fabulous T-shirts bearing the slogan "Tip Or Die," so I did not complain (and though the hoi polloi were certainly far less qualified than Carla in this - or any - instance, I do generally believe in "the more the merrier").
World-class blonde bombshell Cassie strode on stage in silver sequined platform boots with a matching cowboy hat and not much else. She engaged in a smattering of manual butt-jangling, which was particularly impressive considering she didn't have much to work with. It was just after this delight that the MC began to render me daft. Sporting the unlikely moniker "Pablo," he was extremely intrusive, looking and sounding remarkably like Otto The Bus Driver from "The Simpsons." He repeatedly led the crowd in chanting, "Sam's the best (verbs need not apply here, I guess); fuck the rest." You can imagine how tired that became after a few dozen times. The constant exhortation "Somebody scream," was equally vexing. Adriana's appearance on stage managed to refocus my attention. Also a waitress at the club, she had donned overalls with a red handkerchief peeking out of one pocket and an old-fashioned newsboy's hat. She carried a spray bottle, which confused me until I realized she was dancing to "Car Wash." My heart leapt up at the production values attending this performance; even the colossal waterwings protruding from her chest could not diminish my appreciation for her presentation.
Maria whipped the crowd into a frothing frenzy. Some background: Maria is Brazilian and has benefited from many years of Latin dance training - her fancy footwork is to die for. She has appeared on stage with Santana and on video with Madonna (she's the one in the stars and stripes giving Maddy a lap dance in the "Music" video). Her work this night was exhilarating and spellbinding, the entire dance performed at a fever pitch. I was utterly exhausted by the time Suzet strode up the steps. Her moves were fairly prosaic, but what a costume: yellow-green, skin-tight, flared lingerie pants adorned with feathers and a matching, rhinestone bedecked top that barely covered her breathtaking perky/petite breasts. She was a mermaid on leave from the sea (albeit one dancing to "Cuban Pete").
Another alleged harpie, this one named Monica, followed Dani, so I again ratcheted down my marks (Carla is nothing if not loyal). I must confess she was a darling girl, though, decked out in Daisy Dukes and clear, blinking high heels. I cringed when she stumbled on a dollar, an often unavoidable occupational hazard. I was surprised to see the next dancer, Athena, take the stage. She is the club's general manager, which you'd think would disqualify her. Seemingly a refugee from the heavy metal/stripper axis of the 1980s (think overly bleached hair), she knew how to please a crowd, striding out in a fireman's outfit. In fact, she lit a fire on stage At one point Adriana joined her there, having previously been outfitted with some sort of flammable (but evidently safe) pasties, which Athena blazed with a blue-tip. The fans went wild. My other dancer
friend, Katt, drew the short straw and had to wrap up the contest, dancing
immediately after Athena's firefest. Her Botticelli beauty, hair ribbons
and barely there poodle skirt were nonetheless a very welcome It was an eternity before the votes were tallied, and as Jimmy Carter was apparently unavailable to monitor the balloting, we feared the worst. Our fears were realized: The winner was (insert drum roll) ... Athena. Perhaps the jurists simply loved her flashy special effects, but I suspect the fix was in - she IS management, after all. Second place went to Maria, who should have been the winner; third went to Dani, who should have taken second. My group and I thus resolved not to sully our nightlife activities with such weighty responsibilities in the future - best to stick with the customary frivolities. After all, we don't want to end up looking like Sandra Day O'Connor or Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Wearing nothing beneath my robes, Carla |
Dear
Prudence, won't you come out to play?
First
up was a raven-haired girl named Kitty, who usually limits herself to
waiting tables at Sam's. I saw her in the bathroom just before her turn
frantically curling her hair and slathering herself with self-tanner
(never realized the stuff works so fast). These simultaneous feats alone
should have won her first prize (her performance, as it turned out,
was quite pedestrian). Second on stage was Harmony,
a Christina Aguilera look-alike with an easy straddle split and tremendous
butt-bunching abilities. I loved her furry white jacket but had
to mark her down for internal falsies - I support a woman's right to
choose augmentation, but I owed it to the contest sponsors to uphold
my highly developed sense of aesthetics. 
Adriana
was a hard act for the next competitor, Monique, to follow. I'm loath
to admit that I did not actually follow her act because a stripper pal
who works at Sam's assured me she was a "total fucking bitch." (My tattletale
friend did not compete that night as she had been unable to make the
qualifying rounds. A peerless polewoman, I'm sure she would have won
the contest if she had; for the most part, the dancers who did participate
shunned the pole, which I found very disappointing). I granted Monique
a few points for white frilly anklets and black stiletto pumps, despite
this criticism of her person. 
Next
came Dani, who is also in Madonna's "Music" video (though visible only
in a few quick shots). She is a smoldering brunette on whom I have thrown
away a fortune during past visits to this downtown club. Clearly a student
of burlesque (bless her heart), she emerged wearing a neatly pressed
white dress shirt and black, thigh-high stockings, her long, curly tresses
up in a demure bun, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. I
have long been a fan of the archetypal Nerdy Nymphomaniac and had to
lavish Dani with points for assuming the role. Things got deliciously
dirty as her performance progressed. She wrapped her impossibly toned
torso in a fluffy white towel, divesting herself of her push-up bra
and G-string underneath it. She then slid the towel down over her hips
and applied lotion liberally to her stunning natural breasts, all the
while regarding the audience with laser-like intensity. Gulp. "She'll
be extra-soft tomorrow," observed one of my escorts. 
site.
She serpentined fluidly, flipping her long locks with panache and pounding
the stage during her admirably dramatic floor work. Her energetic performance
- not to mention a heavy dose of favoritism - put her high on my score
sheet.