A Stripper Taught Me How to Do Laundry

My mom never taught me how to do laundry. She did most of it and when I was old enough to do my own I just winged it. I moved out of my parent's house when I was 19 and most of my laundering was done at the Laundromat or some other coin operated machine in various basements of the various apartments I rented. I was working as a life insurance underwriter so I took most of my dress shirts and dress pants to the dry cleaner, which was the only other true expense I had at the time; rent, food, beer and dry cleaning were my bills. I got by.

I started working in a nightclub when I was 24. The after hours club where I worked downtown was located right next door the city's premiere gentleman's club (AKA a nudey bar or strip joint). I worked 5 nights a week during hours of operation and 2 days a week dealing with vendors, promotions and book keeping. One of the managing owners of the strip joint also was a partner at the place I worked. I spent a lot of time going back and forth between the two places to borrow supplies, make change, persuade VIP customers to visit my club and report numbers.

One day around 2 in the afternoon I had to run next door to see my boss. I entered the darkened black light lit gentleman's club from the bright sunny outdoors. I waited a minute for my eyes to adjust to the darkness and my ears to adjust to the too much bass mixed Guns N Roses Paradise City. Once I could make out faces I nodded a hello to the doorman and I waved to the barmaid. A dancer, named Mercedes or Porsche or some other type of fancy car name, sitting by herself at the bar pointed at my shirt and started laughing. She directed the barmaid's attention to my shirt and she too started laughing.

I looked at my shirt and I could see big purplish fluorescent splotches spattered all down the front. I walked towards the bar and I asked the barmaid what was so funny. She told me my shirt looked like it was, well, what she said was not very nice but it involved body fluids. The dancer then asked me if I did my own laundry. I found the question to be odd but I answered yes. She then asked me how I did my laundry. I told her that I put all my clothes in the washer, pour the liquid detergent over the top of the clothes and then I turn on the washer.

The dancer took a drag from her cigarette, as she exhaled up into the air she said, "That's the problem right there." She then explained to me that the by pouring the liquid detergent over top of dry clothes was causing it to "stick" to my shirt. The soap was not dissolving completely in the load of laundry. Liquid laundry detergent has fluorescent qualities that make it glow in the presences of black lights. Mercedes, or Porsche or Miata, then told me that I should put the detergent into the washing machine first, then turn it on and let it fill halfway before I put my clothes in. The soap would have a chance to dissolve and not stick to any one article of clothing. I would also get a cleaner load of laundry overall.

The front door to the club opened, silhouettes of a three male patrons appeared in the door way, back lit by the bright sun. The door closed and three men paused waiting for their eyes to adjust. Darkness enveloped them except for the bright white fluorescent splotches scattered across their clothes.

I am sure most strippers have all kinds of cleaning tips.