Tonight while I was driving home from my pole dancing class, I flicked the radio station over to Nova briefly (my usual station, Mix, was playing a crappy song) and heard the announcers in the middle of doing a segment where they were having people to call in to talk about times they’d been seen naked when they shouldn’t have. This got me thinking about times this has happened to me, and one incident in particular sprung to mind.

As some of you might know, I occasionally work as a ‘flasher’ at corporate golf days. These are large events where a company will hire out a golf course for the day and get some girls to come along to ride around on a golf buggy, providing the players with beers and boobs. A few years ago, a friend and I were hired to work at the ultra snobby, very exclusive Belair golf course for one of these days.

After about an hour or so of riding around on our buggy in mini skirts and bikini tops, squealing and flashing our boobs at the golfers, we both started to say to each other, “God, some of these guys are not too keen on the whole topless chick thing at all, are they!” In fact, some of them were looking rather disgusted by our antics. Shortly after, we came across a putting green with about four men standing around it so we stopped our buggy, jumped off and started running around topless, bouncing our boobs around while swinging our bikini tops around our heads. The only way to describe the looks we received in response was, “What the fuck are you girls doing?”

Then suddenly, it all clicked… as we turned around to see three elderly women standing at a nearby tee off looking absolutely fucking horrified.

As it turned out, the guys who had organised the golf day had not only failed to get permission from the course to have topless girls there, they had also failed to tell us the course was actually open to the public and we had spent the last hour flashing our naked breasts to the wealthy, snobby members of the Belair Golf Club.

Needless to say, a lot of people got into a lot of trouble over that little incident. Thankfully my friend and I managed to get out of there before we got into any trouble ourselves, but I’m pretty certain I’m banned from the Belair golf course for life!

Last week when I asked for ideas of things to blog about, someone suggested something along the lines of injuries I’ve had while stripping. So, here’s the ones I can remember.

I once dislocated my thumb on stage, trying to pull a guy’s pants down. It was his bachelor party and I’d been giving him a bit of a dance on stage, and at the end after I made him take a bow I tried to grab his pants and pull them down as his friends had asked me to do it. Unfortunately his reaction time was a lot better than I expected, and as I hooked my thumbs around the top of his pants and pulled, he yanked them in the opposite direction, causing one of my thumbs to pop out of its joint. I’d had a few drinks so I managed to pop it back in myself without too much hassle, but it was really fucking swollen and sore for ages.

I also once ripped off one of my fingernails, that was pretty fucked up. I’d just had fresh acrylic nails put on that afternoon, and was performing a water show on stage in a little plastic pool and somehow managed to bump one of my index fingers on it. I really don’t know exactly what I did, but at the time I was like, “Ouch, must’ve pulled my nail back a bit,” cos it didn’t hurt that bad. When I finished the show and went to the dressing room, however, it was hurting like hell so I poked it and my entire fingernail fell off – I’d ripped the entire thing out, and it had been hanging on by a thread. Then my asshole boss made me work for the rest of the night and wouldn’t let me go home. That sucked.

I think they’re the only semi-interesting injuries I’ve had throughout my illustrious naked career. There’s been plenty of pole injuries and “got drunk and tripped over my own feet on stage” incidents and I’ve burned my lady parts with candle wax on more than one occasion, but all that stuff is pretty ‘run of the mill’ in stripperland!

The best (worst?) stripper injury I’ve ever witnessed was when this dumb meth-head broad picked a fight with a group of bikers from a particularly notorious club… clever, right? Anyway she shoved one of them, so he grabbed her by her hair and smashed her face down into the table, which knocked some of her teeth out, and she was running through the club screaming and crying with blood running down her face and there were cops and an ambulance. Thankfully, none of my injuries quite compare to that whole debacle.

I suppose the lesson here, is that stripper injuries are most often non-serious and somewhat amusing… unless, of course, you try to fight the customer who has big muscles, a leather jacket and face tattoos!