LJWorld.com weblogs Anna Undercover
Posted
by Anna Undercover
November 23, 2009 at 9:01 a.m.
Stripper Blog: Saturday Night at the East Lawrence Ballet
Crap! I’m late!
I came slamming out of the front door and sprinted to the driveway. Hair dripping, hat on, no make-up. Doubled back to lock the house. Dropped my bag. Swooped to grab it, flew to the car, and threw it in reverse with the door still open.
Can’t be late, can’t be late! I gunned it down the road and slammed on the brakes at the stop sign. Hope I remembered my underwear, since I realized the time and nearly took out the shower curtain whilst falling out of the bath to pull on nearby pants, grab my stuff, and dash.
Crap, crap, crap. The sound of my car straining at the speed I insisted on replaced my usual blaring music. If I’m late, it’s a $20 fine, even if I tumble through the door one minute past the hour. That’s twenty less dollars toward bills, savings, investments, fake eyelashes, and a new costume for work—not to mention holiday gifts. Dammitdammitdammitdammit.
15th street!
Slam on the brakes! The car behind me nearly hit me as I tear around the corner. “Sorrysorrysorrysorry!” Of course, they can’t hear me.
Four minutes. I stomp on the accelerator. Jam the brakes to the floor at stop signs. Ignore intersection etiquette. “Sorrysorrysorry!” Wow, it must take a lot to get a Kansan to honk. I passed people going 20 miles per hour over the speed limit.
Dirt road!
I James Bond it into the parking lot, leap out of the car without turning it off, and burst through the door.
Right on time. “Safe!” I joked. I went back out to grab my stuff and park. Whew! Into the dressing room to catch my breath and do something with the stressed mess I see in the mirror. Everything off. Deodorant smeared heavily anywhere near a major artery where I might sweat. Underarms and groin, plus the entire breast area. The strategery: If a customer tries to lick me and I fail to block it, my skin will taste gross. (“So, I have to keep my tongue in my mouth? … What? There’s a huge list of rules by the door?... In two places and in English? … ::exasperated:: C’mon.” Please die).
Dancers start to arrive. The locker room door opens every few minutes.
“Hey, sluts.”
“Hey, whore,” the whole room is teehee-ing.
“Did you bring enough coke for everyone? No? Drat!”
“Well, if you put out for me in VIP, maybe I’ll share.”
Laughter.
“You guys are so mean!” Giggling.
More laughter.
“Whatever. Everyone knows what you do.”
The naked sorority prepared for work in typical fashion. “Does anyone have black eye shadow? I’m out.” A girl is doubled over in the corner and groaning to herself. “Period,” she clearly forces a smile. “Ohmigod, you guys… You will never guess what my ex did this time!” “Anna, can I borrow a baby wipe?” (“Um, only if you promise not to give it back.”)
“Has anyone seen my [insert missing item here]? Hoes be scandalous and takin’ stuff,” someone will grumble indignantly at the floor. Another woman may or may not volunteer her bag to be searched. The grumbler always declines the offer while she studies the floor. I’d like to think the rest of the room’s silent response is a sympathetic one.
“I have to make at least $700 tonight.” “Well, guess you can’t afford to give such cheap ‘extras’ in the back like usual, can you, hoebag?” Giggles all around.
Some girls remain silent throughout their beauty routine. Get in, make money, get dressed, go home.
Ready!
“Um, Anna, are you still getting ready?”
“No,” I say.
“Since you’re done, can you move your big, fat ass so I can get ready?” I smile.
“Of course!” I smack her on the butt as I head out the door.
“Ooh!” She purrs at me and exaggerates a wink in my direction. I look at her scandalously.
Girls are already sitting with the customers on the floor, so I grabbed Nice Girls Don’t Get Rich by Lois P. Frankel and sat at a table with a gaggle of other dancers in skimpy outfits. “Counting Bodies” by Perfect Circle pounded out of the speakers. I sway in my seat as I underline heavily and occasionally join the group’s meandering chat about life, customers, and the casts of characters in their outside lives. At times, I am so passionate about the book that I make everyone listen to me read a paragraph out loud. The responses are varied. “Ohmigod, that is so right.” “Thanks, slut.” “Can I borrow that?” Patient listening to my preaching. An indifferent puff on a Marlboro cigarette. I self-consciously wonder if she wants me to shut up. Two girls are goofing around on the pole, out of earshot.
A heterosexual couple walks in. Mine! I jump up and abandon Lois P. Frankel at the table. The couple was young. Could be a waste of time, could be the jackpot if he wants to fuel her potential desire to show off for him.
“Hey, beautiful,” I greeted the girl first. She is very blonde, with bright, (blue? green?) eyes. Her hand is marked with an X. “My name’s Anna. What’s yours?”
“Hi,” she smiles and shakes my hand. She tells me her name. Her date is wearing an East Lawrence Ballet wristband. “I see you’ve brought a pet with you,” I said. “Don’t men make such good pets?” They laughed.
“Yes, but only when they’re housebroken,” she quipped.
“Aww,” I said. It was her birthday, and the trip to the ELB was her gift.
“She can have a dance from you any time she wants,” the guy said. Score.
“Have you ever been to a strip club, honey?” I leaned in, concerned, and grasped her forearm. My first trip and only trip to a strip club in college lasted exactly two seconds. My first trip to the ELB was highly uncomfortable. I hated it both times.
“Oh, god no,” she said. “I’ve been tons of times. One of my girlfriends works at Bonita Flats.” We talked shop. I willed her to say something that would boost my credibility in my blog. A slightly less sunny perspective? Something negative? This one failed. “I love strippers,” she said without pride or humility. For you, or for him? I wondered. She grinned devilishly.
I pretended not to notice her boyfriend check his wallet out of the corner of my eye. He had a twenty—maybe the same amount in ones. I could get just one dance out of them.
The boyfriend relaxed back in his chair and seemed to scan the room for more eye-candy. His date looked comfortable as she told me her girlfriend “does really well.” Looks exactly like a popular children’s cartoon character. “I think that’s why she makes so much money—because she looks so young,” she said. Ladies and gentlemen, we are at risk for a mayday.
A new song started. “It’s time!” I climbed onto her and locked my eyes on hers. I began to move slowly and deliberately around her lap like a snake exploring innocent, trusting prey.
Smiling, hands-y, giggly prey. Her boyfriend happily observed our playful, exaggerated interaction. She instinctively respected my rules. I brushed her hair out of her face and smiled into her ear. “I think you’re having fun, sweetheart,” she giggled and nodded at my deep, flirtatious voice. “Haha, you like this!” I accused her.
I danced on. La , la, la… Song ended. “Let me know if you guys need anything else, OK?”
I trotted back to Lois P. Frankel, topless and not caring. I wondered if my budgeting habits indicated I was making the first mistake Frankel lists in her book: striving for survival, not wealth. “Well,” I thought. “I’m a stripper, not a server.” I imagined myself reading Frankel’s work out loud to some nay-sayers on my blog. (Take that)!
Cute guys with beer! I watched them sit down and abandoned my book again. Trot trot trot.
I came up behind one of them and slowly slid my hands over his shoulders and onto his chest. I grabbed his boobs. Pause for effect.
Gasp! “OMG,” I exclaimed. “We just went to second base.” He laughed. I slid a chair over and pulled in close to him. Giggly, flirtatious introduction. “What brings you here?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he scratched the back of his head and watched a girl on stage. “I’m really hung over.” So you came here? Hehe. I held that one in. “Sorry if I’m slow,” he looked at me apologetically.
“It’s okay, honey,” I said. I suddenly felt abusive. “You’re probably cuter than you are smart, anyway.” Thankfully, he laughed. I smiled. He was a cutie! Bet he has sisters.
“Two,” he said. “One older and one younger.” Awww.
I’m all sweetheart, honey, and cutie-pie. I flirt with him. I claim that because he allows me to hold his hand, we are now officially dating. Chit chat, chit chat. Flirt, flirt.
“You don’t have another girlfriend, do you?” I looked at him with mock distrust. Whoops. I hoped he didn’t. Bringing a girlfriend, wife, or kids into the conversation can kill the fantasy bubble that a strip club offers and ruin my chance to get a dance.
“Haha, no,” he replied. “I’ve been single for a while.” More chit chat.
Nice guy. No chemistry, though. Damn. From what I could tell, he didn’t like me enough to get a dance, but there were new customers I had to go try out if he was a dud. So—in for the kill.
“Nah, it’s too early for a dance,” he said.
“Oh, that’s fine,” I smiled professionally. “I’ll come back in a bit. OK cutie?” I made a mental note to follow up with him in half an hour. With fake eyelashes on. And freshly reapplied make-up. I consciously avoided the impulse to feel unattractive. This is business. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.
I worked the room unsuccessfully, occasionally returning to the locker room to reapply make-up after stage sets. Even after I put on new make-up and enormous, fake eyelashes, my would-be customer with two sisters still wasn’t interested. Boo.
Shake it off! Time to get on stage. This is my favorite part of the night besides the end, when I get to count all my money. Wee!
I pick my music. “Tik Tok” by Ke$ha. “10 Dollar” by MIA. Drawing on my childhood dance lessons, I seductively turn, twist, and cambrer to the beat. I made eye contact with every customer who looked my way. In my enormous stripper heels, I managed a single pirouette on the slippery stage and caught the pole to land. Always a gamble, but always an attention-grabber. Glad I didn’t fall on my butt.
The guys started to tip, so I started to strip. Lots of dollar bills. Yessss.
Dancers are required to be naked in the first part of my second song, and I complied, acting scandalized by my own actions as I took off my bottoms. Hehe!
More guys got up to tip me. They aren’t allowed to touch me as I crawl over them. One guy tried to pick his head up while I was over him. I jumped back on my knees, and snatched his dollar with one hand and shoved his head to the floor with the other.
“Do not try to lift your head,” I hissed into his smug face. Forget you, I thought. It’s not like the rules here are some kind of state secret. I looked up. The stage-area bouncer missed the jerk’s transgression. Lucky for him. I glared, briefly, at the back of the customer’s head as he got off the stage and returned to his seat. I’m not your girlfriend, you jerk. I was extremely glad he didn’t successfully touch or lick me between my legs. I also marveled at his stupidity. Did he really want a mouthful of deodorant, body spray, and/or sweat? Hot.
Smile! The show must go on.
The song ended. The other girls hooted and hollered at me. Hehe! Naked except for fishnet thigh highs and stilettos, I beamed and curtsied like a ballerina. “Thanks guys!” I waved. Inwardly, I mocked myself for treating them all like an audience at a “real” dance show. I angled my butt away from the audience as I re-dressed on stage. I hurried to the back to towel off and freshen up.
Even with the jerks being jerks, I love doing stage sets. The armload of dollar bills from that one ensured I made tipout, the nightly fee for working at the club. Score. Now I could start making money for myself.
I floated from table to table. The crowd grew. I got a couple tips from conversations with customers. By 1am, every chair was taken.
Hours later, and I still hadn’t gotten another dance. I sat in the locker room briefly with another dancer. Yes, you can borrow my phone.
“Ohmigod,” the beautiful girl sobbed to her boyfriend. “I’m not making any money tonight. I’m totally freaking out.” I rubbed her back for a moment and turned to freshen my make-up, take some ibuprofen, and hurry back out to the floor. Nose to the grindstone, I thought. I reapplied deodorant and body spray for the tenth time that night. Mmm, lemongrass and grapefruit by Dove. Cheap, effective, and gets lots of compliments from guys.
I emerged from the locker room once more. There were tons of happy, drunk guys, but this crowd was tipping on stage, not getting dances.
As I flitted from customer to customer, I wondered if I was wasting my time trying to push for more dances after over eight hours at work. I usually try to tough it out for a full 12 hours when it’s possible, but on Saturday, I was so tired and almost gave up.
“Hey,” a guy stopped me on my way back to the locker room to get dressed and leave. “Come sit with me and my girl. We’ll take care of you.”
Zip! Back to their seats. They fed singles into my top as we chatted. The guy bought a dance for the girl. It is unusual for me to dance for two women in one night.
She left briefly.
“Hey,” the guy said as he signaled me in closer. “So, my girl’s too shy to ask you this, but she’s never had oral sex before.”
“Oh really?” I said innocently. I tried not to let on that I knew exactly where he was headed with this one.
He looked around. “Shake my hand if you want to meet up later,” he said quietly. “We can take you out for breakfast. She’s never been with a woman before.”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” I said apologetically. “I would lose my job if I did that. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”
“No, no,” he said. He leaned in more. “See, we’ll pay you for meeting us for breakfast, not the other stuff.” Ugh. Why were you born this way? I didn’t have the energy to deal with this at 2am.
“Um, well, I’ll come back and we’ll talk about it,” I lied. “I’ll be back in a bit. I have to go check in with management.” Another lie. Why was the girl dating this guy? His behavior toward me made him seem so beneath her.
I smiled at him, squeezed his forearm, and walked to the dressing room. If this was what was left at this hour, I was leaving. I’d been there for ten hours, anyway. That’s a decent try at good money in my book. Sleep. Now. Please.
“OMG, Anna!” My best customer was suddenly in front of me.
“Hi, sweetheart!” I said. She hugged me.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I said as I petted her long blonde hair. Why is everyone in the Midwest blonde? I wondered. “I’m having lots of fun!” I was. “There are tons of people here, but I’m not doing so well tonight,” I admitted.
“Ohmigod honey, I’ve got you,” she cooed. “I’m sitting in the corner with my buddy. I’ll be right over. Go sit with him.” Tired but committed, I headed obediently to her friend.
“Anna!” he exclaimed. “I was hoping you’d be here. I only came for you.” Did you?
“Thank you, sweetheart,” I said. I hugged him.
“I definitely want a dance,” he said. We got right down to business. He tipped me extremely well. Hooray! “Go ahead and go,” he said. “You can leave me. I know you need to make money.” He pouted at me. Aw. You like me!
“I don’t really want you to go, but I know you need to,” he added. “It’s OK.”
Eh. No one else in the club wanted me—tonight, anyway.
I didn’t tell him this. Instead, I perched on his lap and we watched as a veritable downpour of dollar bills rained upon two girls on stage, right up until 4am. He tipped me some more.
“Ladies,” the announcer boomed. “Please head to the back.”
Big hug for both my best customer (no dance for you tonight..?) and the guy. “Thank you so much,” I meant it. “Yay. See you soon? OK! Love you guys.” I trudged to the locker room.
The 30 or so dancers, tired, sweaty, and half-naked, headed into the small dressing room. It’s pretty much standing room only. It’s hot, but it’s not unbearable. It's 4am.
Oof. Shoes off. Now. I didn't care that I probably had stinky feet at this point. I was in pain. Suffer, people. I steeled myself against any disapproving looks, should they come my way.
I thought of writing my next blog and wondered if I could and/or should take caffeine intravenously to get the next post up when I said I would. I closed my eyes groaned inwardly. Don't make promises next time, I told myself.
We all have to wait for customers to leave the building before we can exit the dressing room.
“Ugh, I just want to go home.” “Hey! Bouncers! Are the customers gone yet? People are coughing in my face! I need space!” “OMG. I didn’t make, like, anything tonight.” “Whatever, slut. I saw you.” A few tired giggles. “There were tons of girls here tonight!” “I know!” One stunning girl threw her hands up as she fiddled with her padlock. “Lesbians love me. If there was a lesbian strip club, I’d make all the money in the world. Someone do that. I’ll totally work there.” Giggles. “This dressing room is too small.” Whine. Complain. Tease. Close to the door, I switch spots with a girl who suddenly feels claustrophobic.
At this point, nearing 4:20AM, I feel like the sandman is slugging me in the face. Sigh. Must. Sleep!
All in all, a decent night. I choose not to complain about how hard I had to push for the money I did get. I drove the speed limit all the way home, flopped onto the couch, and passed out.
I’m back home this week and a close friend, who is in on my secret, wants to get into stripping. I plan to chaperone her through her first night. So… we’ll continue later this week or early next!
:)
To Be Continued…
AWARDS SECTION
And now, some awards for select commenters. Though, of course, I read and appreciate you all. (Yes, even you guys, puddleglum and tubs_of_love!) I'm comfortable with any disagreeing parties. :)
Commenters-from-Last-Time-Whose-Comments-Especially-Helped-Me-with-This-Entry: newbee2! Hope you liked this one more. I still feel like I can do better. Rwbaa, too, and others, but mainly you two.
Most Constructive Commenters From Last Time (in my opinion, of course): jwsuber, newbee2.
The Useful-Perspective-from-a-Non-Dancer Award: flinthills
Best in Wharrgarbl-ing: brandy_is_guilty
Best in Poking Fun at Wharrgarbler(s): Fixed_Asset (hehe)
Way Hotter Than Anyone Else Commenting on This Blog: Zilla
The “Where’s Your Husband/Father/Other Male Chaperone, Ye Uncivilized Wench” Award: OldEnuf2BYurDad
The Based-on-All-Your-Comments-from-Here-and-Elsewhere-You-Seem-Reasonable Award: parrothead8
and 16 others
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Comments
LJWorld.com doesn’t necessarily condone the comments here, nor does it review every post. Read our full policy. Also, read about banned accounts and harassing comments.
Soap (anonymous) says…
Best entry to-date, and great song selection ;]
honeychild (Mel Briscoe) says…
if a customer tries to lick you it will taste gross?....
dude, i know you probably make more in a month than i make all year, but i'd rather struggle and scrape doing this clerical job combined w/ my little seasonal retail gig than have to prepare for someone licking me. that has to be the nastiest thing i've read in this forum. yuck to the 10th power.
:/
AnnaUndercover (Anna Undercover) says…
@Soap
Yay! I was so hoping you might like it. I bled at teeny bit for this one, lol. (Hey. I'm an *artist*). Didn't have anyone look it over, but mostly because I just don't have time to do further edits.
Soap (anonymous) says…
I like getting licked
Fixed_Asset (anonymous) says…
Cool. :-)
Maddie_M (anonymous) says…
"Way Hotter Than Anyone Else Commenting on This Blog: Zilla "
Arent we forgetting someone? *cough* ME *cough*
I do believe there is room on your blog for TWO hot bitches!
AnnaUndercover (Anna Undercover) says…
@Maddie_M
Hahaha yes! Yes, you are hot. Like Zilla, hotter than anyone else commenting on this blog, without a doubt. I was skimming the names from last time. :) Sorry I left you out. Clearly, you will be in the next round of awards. Please accept this honorable (and very sincere) mention instead. (Lol!)
AnnaUndercover (Anna Undercover) says…
@honeychild
It hasn't happened to me more than once so far. Yech. I was at the North Lawrence Ballet at the time. Slapped him right across his deserving face.
RETICENT_IRREVERENT (Ronaldo Ignacio) says…
Social media marketing at it's best.
jajacut (Jeff Cuttell) says…
Excellent blog! I bet this gets some of the prudes going today. They'll be coming out of the woodwork to talk about how horrible this sounds.
honeychild (Mel Briscoe) says…
soap, do you like getting licked by total strangers-- some of them looking like they should be named "goober" or "booger"? blah, bleh, bleck, and yuk.
coolmom (anonymous) says…
great job, you make what sounds like a hard job really seem interesting at least as a viewpoint on humanity studies. you have an amazing amount of patience.
AnnaUndercover (Anna Undercover) says…
@coolmom
Thanks! :)
Zilla (anonymous) says…
Thank you Anna! ::kisses:: When you were describing the back and forth in the locker room, I was getting nostalgic. I miss that. The ELB has the best locker room out of all of them IMHO. I used to bring books to work too. Ha ha. Sometimes we would even play Scrabble when there were no customers. i really need to get in there to see you and anyone else who is still there I may know.
H_Lecter (anonymous) says…
Mom...is that you?
AnnaUndercover (Anna Undercover) says…
@Zilla
Aw! :) I'm out of state as of this evening, but I'll be back next week. I'm sure we'll chat over another medium to figure out when we can see each other next. I'm thinking of everyone, right now. ::hugs::
DestinyLove (anonymous) says…
I hope to start dancing here pretty soon. Maybe you could show me the ropes to and see if I am as hot as some of your freinds.
The_Original_Bob (anonymous) says…
"Social media marketing at it's best."
The Dirty Bird has to pissed that the Outhouse is getting all this free advertising.
Zilla (anonymous) says…
Actually, the Bird is a really nice club too. You don't have to pay fines there and it's freakin' huge! PLUS...They serve Blvd Wheat. Gotta love that stuff. Their VIP room is like half the size of the ELB. They just don't get very many customers in during the week days.
There's the free ad campaign for them. LOL.
Fruity22 (anonymous) says…
How vile and disgusting is it chihawk? I've never been there.
monkey_c (anonymous) says…
Not news...blog. So I think it doesn't need to be newsworthy. But I agree with you it's certainly smutty. I would prefer to have remained ignorant of this lifestyle. But like looking at a trainwreck I read on.
I thought more highly of strippers before I started reading this stuff. Reading this removes "the fantasy" and brings the grit to light.
I had written previosly that I would not tollerate being smacked or having ice thrown on me at work. I can now add to the list. I also would not stand for anyone licking me at work.
mercutio57 (anonymous) says…
I say to everyone, do what makes you happy in life, no matter what. Screw anyone who may think differently.
Maddie_M (anonymous) says…
@AnnaUndercover - Alright, youre off the hook *this* time just because youre effin' hot!
@Zilla - I know right? I felt all nostalgic as well, because thats totally what its like there! And I played the Scrabble with you! Hahaha!
jwsuber (anonymous) says…
This week's post brings to mind every commission-sales job I've ever had. We all seem to have to deal with that inexorable creep of time-on-the-job vs money made. In retail sales we jostle with our fellows for our "ups" as potential customers wander in. We judge books by their covers as a matter of survival. We develop relationships with regulars who are rewarded for their loyalty with more personalized service. We shun those who habitually demand more than we can give.
Over a career, there are days where it all falls into place of its own accord and others where nothing fits no matter how hard the round peg is pounded into the square hole. The individual days can be judged only according to how well one sailed the prevailing winds of chance.
I'm struck by the lack of malice in the dressing room. I read most of that dialog in a playful, "we're all in this together," kind of tone, when I could otherwise imagine some territorial competition and subsequent recrimination.
Somehow I sympathized with the idea of being held up for extra time at the end of the shift, waiting, waiting, waiting in a tiny sweaty box for the all clear. Almost worth it for the feeling of relief at finally getting out and finding sleep.
tubs_of_love (anonymous) says…
Hey there Anna, I think I'm actually starting to like you. Wait! Nope, nevermind. Oh and maybe you shouldn't give out the hottest blogger award if you haven't seen all of the bloggers, because I'm the hottest! ; ]
AnnaUndercover (Anna Undercover) says…
@ChiHawkInKS
Only went once when you were 21? Aw. :) I'm sure we've missed you. Too bad I'm on vacation this week. How old are you now?
AnnaUndercover (Anna Undercover) says…
@monkey_c
::checks dictionary.com:: I am open to being wrong, but I assure you with a reasonable degree of confidence that this blog is not a fungus that afflicts any plantlife. And, like you, I do not *tolerate* (well, appreciate, anyway) being abused at work. Luckily, the ice didn't hurt, and I thwarted my smug little friend's attempt to violate me. Stripper 1, smug jerk 0.
@tubs_of_love
If you don't mind, please kindly describe your hotness, since I can't see you.
@fruity22
Come visit us! I'm on vacation this week, so I won't be there, but here's my best advice: get a couple guy friends together who like to have fun. Get a case of cheap beer and fill your favorite cooler with ice. Come on down! :) Bring enough to tip some girls who sit with you and who perform for you on stage. Be sure to read the rules on your way in so you know what's acceptable and what will get you tossed out! :)
trollkiller (anonymous) says…
I knew fifteen years ago that as soon as computers were affordable to society's trash, the Internet would disintegrate into stuff like this. Kind of reminds me of that movie (which was too stupid to watch, but based on a realistic premise) Idiocracy. You guys need your own separate Internet that is only connected to trailer parks and ghettos. Time to empty the trash.
AnnaUndercover (Anna Undercover) says…
@trollkiller
This from someone who enjoys playing "MILF hunter"?
tubs_of_love (anonymous) says…
@trollkiller - I heard someone talking bout that the other day, but instead, for porn. www.whatever.porn
@AnnaUnde - I'm about 5'9, 700lbs with hair, a lot of it. Does that sound hot er what? What's kinda funny is I can see just how hot you are, but me, I'm anonymous.
AnnaUndercover (Anna Undercover) says…
@tubs_of_love
Perhaps.
newbee2 (anonymous) says…
I just got around to reading this, Anna. Holidays and family and all. Much more informative, yes and Thank You. To me you seem very intelligent and write very well. Perhaps you may one day write a novel.
I like the Dove scents too, but wish someone would come up with an "Axe" for women! LOL! Love the way men that wear Axe smell!
Will be looking forward to reading future posts! Good job on this one! :-D
AnnaUndercover (Anna Undercover) says…
@newbee2
So nice to hear from you! I'm glad you liked this one better. That makes me feel good. :) I was stressing a little on Twitter as I wrote with you in mind. PM me your username, if you've ventured into that realm.
I might add some more beauty tips next time, or perhaps do a follow-up to my weekly post that gets more instructive. If you think of anything else you'd like to know, PM me or comment again, whichever is easier.
P.S. I've got to vote against you on the Axe body spray for men! ;) But to each their own, I say.