Pseudonyms are like euphemisms in that they often defeat their intended purpose. With euphemisms, or "politically correct" language, an unattractive or seemingly offensive term will be replaced with something more user-friendly, only to completely confuse the issue. Take for instance the terms "African-American," "big-boned," and "mentally challenged." "African-American" is confusing because many people checking this box on the census have never seen Africa, while people that actually travel here from Africa by choice label themselves more specifically (Egyptian, Nigerian, South African, etc). "Big-boned" is contradictory because obesity reduces bone density, causing smaller bones in overweight people. "Mentally challenged" is the best one. If you spend all day thinking about ice cream and cartoons, your mind is not being put to a challenge. Einstein was mentally challenged. Corky is not.
With all that being said, I’m against using offensive phrases such as "mentally challenged big-boned African-American," opting for more honest terminology such as "fat black retard." Following the same thought process, pseudonyms (AKA "stripper names") are just as hard for me to swallow as euphemisms, not only because they are just as contradictory in meaning, but because they are often painfully ironic. Taking into account the fact that I have worked with hundreds of strippers, many who share the same names, please don’t go assuming that just because your name is "______" that I am referring specifically to you. Further, Exotic magazine and any staff members or affiliates do not necessarily share the same opinion as yours truly.
Now that the bases are covered, let’s explore the interesting world of pseudonyms, specifically those used by pole-hugging single mothers in Hello Kitty panties.
First and foremost is my absolute favorite: Destiny. Fate counts, too. If your path in life as outlined by a higher creator leads you to doing lines off of a toilet, you need a different set of spiritual beliefs. When Luke Skywalker met his sister, it was destiny. When the bouncer found a bag of heroin behind the dressing-room trashcan, it was Destiny. Capitalization makes a huge difference.
Another classic is the "named after a geographical location" pseudonym. I’ve met Reno, Paris, Cali, Vegas, Berlin, Jersey and Miami. What these chicks don’t realize is that any other place in the world would result in a catastrophic stripper name. "Up next on the main stage is Gresham, Renton is in the cage and that’s Oakland shaking it on the back stage!" You don’t want to hear a DJ say that.
Next up, Mrs. Obvious. If you weigh in at fifty pounds after eating your monthly meal, don’t call yourself Crystal. If you’re a fat girl with dreadlocks and dirty feet, steer away from Mary Jane. If you’re a sister, don’t name yourself Cocoa, if you’re Japanese, don’t go by Asia and for the love of all things covered in sparkly vanilla-flavored grease, please no more fat girls named Honey. It’s just...wrong.
Saving room for something more positive and pro-stripper (it’s coming, hold on), I’ll keep the remaining list of painfully ironic pseudonyms short and sweet...
Don’t name yourself after your pet unless its name is Indiana (and you’re from Portland). Don’t go by a fake real name, because the real Amber or Misty is going by Autumn or Mercedes and it fucks up the rotation when DJs try to call standbys. Now that I think about it, avoid seasons and automobiles as well. Adjective-verbs ("Sparkling Desire") are out, as are purposely misspelled names ("Roxxxanne"). In case you didn’t know, your name sounds the same no matter how I read it.
Okay, okay, don’t get your G-string in a bunch. I’m not a complete asshole and there is a solution: let someone else pick your name for you. You’re almost guaranteed originality and chances are it’ll be applicable. Plus, if you do end up with a stupid name, you can always blame it on your friend.
If you can’t get creativity from your friends and coworkers, leave it up to the customers and your DJ. A dancer at my current workplace decided to run a special a few months back, allowing customers to name her anything they could think of for twenty bucks and the trend has not come to an end. Since she gives me a cut of this money every time the deal takes place, Helena has given me the inspiration to advertise her special to customers, resulting in the following words/phrases being said over the speakers: Jabba The Slut, Free Tacos, Penetration, Wet Spot, Hello Tittie, Fruhilda The Destroyer and Megatron. Trust me, when customers hear, "We have Penetration on the main stage," they turn their heads.
Although many people might enjoy reading longwinded, detailed accounts of what happens inside the DJ booth, my monthly anecdotes are a lot like stripper outfits—sometimes less is more. Instead of trying to explain, justify or rationalize what they mean, I give to you a collection of overheard one-line comments said by strippers while talking to/ at me in the DJ booth:
"Hey, DJ, you need to play me slower songs, because that last one was too fast and when I was bending over, a little bit of cum came out of my ass."
"I’d really like to tip you tonight, but my dog has a staph infection."
"My tampon came out during that last set and I think a customer stole it."
"You’re a DJ...do you know where to get a kilo of coke?"
"How do you say ‘no’ in Spanish?"
"Hey, do you have any Mótley Crúe?"
(While crying) "My locker hates me and I can’t stop hitting it."
"Are minors allowed to use the restroom?"
"I don’t think that guy will be getting any more lap dances from me because I sort of puked on his crotch."