This past Saturday was a dud. Bachelor party season usually brings out the worst in me. The summer most likely equals crowds of super drunk, young guys who are more interested in attempting to get your phone number and high-fiving their friends than tipping you on stage. These guys are too naive to realize that stripping is a job, not a hobby that exhibitionist women do to escape Saturday night boredom.
Sorry, boys-compliments aren't dollars. If I'd made a dollar for every time I heard "oh my god, you're sooo hot" from some twenty-something asshole in a collared shirt, I'd be a damn millionaire.