Assorted diversities, or how we went looking for a brothel and all we found was a warehouse church.

Assorted, like sort-of a store-house of sorts, you see, and not particularly sorted. Anyway, the story being that we've done a lot of brothel and strip joint... "research" let's call it, in preference of dip or who knows what other atrocious verb-up.

The process has collected a large number of anecdotes. Given the very good fit between that byproduct and this here medium, let us delve :

Anecdote #1 We were at a strip club somewhere in the "bad part" of San Jose.ⁱ The escortⁱⁱ went to the bar to get me drinks. They had no local rum. They had no sort of vodka. They had nothing at all, eventually she returned with Bailey's as the best non-beer to be found.

It was curdled.

True story.

Anecdote #2 We were at a strip club somewhere in the "bad part" of San Jose.ⁱⁱⁱ A terribly dismal affair, a pole on a stage the size of the shower in a Britishly "efficient" flat, mirrors on all the walls and shockingly bad porn^iv running on the TVs (in place of the usual soccer). We file in past the dozen or so worker class dorks, we sit down, the stage suddenly comes alive and a fat 40yo starts stepping back and forth on it. A very drunk waitress accosts us, brings me a rum, and tends to leave. I ask her how much, she doesn't know, but will inquire. Returns to inform me it's 2`000 colones (about 3.50). I give her 3`000. She returns one. Maybe I didn't understand ? It really is 2`000, and she is 30 and what are tips.

Anecdote #3 We were at a strip club somewhere in the "bad part" of San Jose. Escort is at the bar ordering drinks. Dude at the bar attempts to hit on her while she's getting the drinks. I am a man who goes to cunnyshacks much to the relief of the punters : finally, someone brought some cunny!

She comes over, and tells the story of the dude who tried to hit on her at the bar. His line was, please be seated for this, to inquire whether she's from around there, and assure her he was. Because, you know...

Be careful.

Dude in worker cap and worked bare jeans, old sneakers afoot and well salivated beer in hand figures my slave's mercenary, and further figures he's going to detach the hottie from the [only] dude in the suit by leveraging his dazzling array of advantages.

Be careful.

Anecdote #4 We were at a strip club somewhere in the "bad part" of San Jose. The girls are all pretty, all young and tall and slim. They all go bare cunt. They all do the exact same movements, including some fumbling in the corner with their underwear. Double step to the left. Now double step to the right. Now unhook the bra. Now sway to the left. Now sway to the right. Now take off the panties. Now pout your butt to the right, and pout your butt to the left. Now you're done, go to the corner fumble with your underwear.

SAME. MOVEMENTS. All of them. All the time. Always.

Anecdote #5 Not a single strip joint we have visited to date failed to have at least one pole for dancers to poledance at. Not a single stripper in not a single strip joint we have to date visited ever lifted her feet off the ground. Their mental representation of the pole is, basically, a chair. They're dancing with it as if they'd be dancing with a broom -- it makes for a shitty dance partner for whatever rumba/salsa/cha-cha-cha, but BY FUCKING GOD they ain't changing jack shit. What do you mean "go up on it" ??? What do you mean "kiss the ceiling with your cunt or you can't work here" ??!?!?!?!

I hope you're laughing, for I'm not amused.

Anecdote #6 We went to San Domingo, which is a neighbourhood at some distance from San Jose, to see some sort of widely advertised park. The gate is closed, and the woman at the booth by the gate (yes, they do) informs us that it's been... closed.

For two years.

And yet they have a booth with a woman inside to tell people this ; but they did not feel the need to remove all the signs pointing to it, or you know, INSERT A MENTION ON THEIR FUCKING WEBSITE.

Anecdote #7 While in a brothel somewhere in the "bad part" of San Jose, the matron comes over and inquires whether we'd like to be given the tour. Sure we'd like, and thereby we're so given : she proceeds to show us the rooms. There's seven bed-sized bachelor pads fashioned out of lacquered pine atop the tiny bar, six of which are empty, a seventh silent. The corner luxury suite includes a fuck swing. There's no showers -- but a sink in the hallway, by the stairwell. If you're gonna put in just the tip sink's good enough neh ?

She lets us know the girls normally charge 40 a head, but since "we talked to her" she's only gonna count the male heads and so 40 for the lot (about eighty dollars). I thank her very much, but do not take her up on her offer - chiefly because the "girls" are notably absent. Outside of a very shy-looking dominican with soft tits pushed way too crazily out by a restrictive apparatus eyeing us from a safe distance there's nobody in sight.

Anecdote #8 Since we're in San Domingo, we decide might as well check out the scene. After walking a coupla dozen blocks in all directions thereby completely and entirely covering the municipality, we sit down at the evidently only happening bar there. A bunch of civillians, dorks with their anally unloosened "girlfriends", married men with their spawn, etcetera. A coupla girls with nice tits show up, and escort goes over to talk to them. She returns dejectedly with the information that no, they're not doing anything (on a Saturday night) nor are they possessed of enough sense to catch on ; and that if they were doing something they'd go to San Jose because nothing there.

So we went to church.

The annoying looking bitch in yellow to the bottom left there was actually doing the speaking. I have no idea when the Catholics started allowing women to talk in their temples, but the merits of that choice aside -- they really must pick better speakers. Didn't they use to train the church speakers at some point in history ?

Above is a hotel. Ho-tel. Nuff said. Snort snort.

And this is the largest moth I ever saw. Easily twice the weight of a colibri bird, it looked like if only its feet were equipped with hooks it could've made off with some electronics, a loaf of bread or a small child. Sadly it made off the moment I tried to get outside, so I failed in my intent to capture it.

But perhaps next time.

1. You know you're in the "bad part" because locals seated on the curbs with apparently nothing whatsoever to do and a stiff paper bag will insistently point to their lower eyelid and tell you to "be careful", apparently entirely and very blissfully unaware I might for the same money interpret this as a plain threat, retrieve whatever torture instrument from the trunk of the car and apply it to their dumb ass directly. This is why the "bad" is in quotes : were it an actually bad as opposed to soap-opera bad neighbourhood, nobody could be encountered willing to risk their neck in such a foolish manner, for the plain and simple reason that all who thought of trying were parted of this world long long ago. This is how improvement of the species works, not by words but by actual selection, physical, extinctive, and this is also how we know anything like it's absent : from the presence of the dodo birds we can derive with absolute certainty the absolute need for the quotation marks. [↩]
2. What do you call the girl following you along to serve ? Not really a valet, is she ? Well... [↩]
3. I suppose you're starting to intuit how these are going to go, yes. [↩]
4. Some dude and some dame deeply disinterested in one another doing it missionary style, with the insistent repetitiveness of machinery. About as sexy as Salo, or if you prefer clinical footage intended for medical school consumption. [↩]