Tina D'Angelo
Bio
G-Is for String is now available in Ebook, paperback and audiobook by Audible!
https://a.co/d/iRG3xQi
G-Is for String: Oh, Canada! and Save One Bullet are also available on Amazon in Ebook and Paperback.
Achievements (1)
Stories (169/0)
Served With Ice
Meeting men when I worked as a stripper was not a problem. Sorting out the good ones from the bad was my problem. There could be at least a dozen men in the audience begging for attention. I’d end up meeting the worst creep in the club and taking him home with me. Then, he’d never want to leave. Sometimes I would call upon a large friend of mine to come to my apartment and pretend to be my long lost husband just to get rid of the guy. The persistent losers had to be escaped by calling my dance agent and getting booked out of town until they got the message.
By Tina D'Angeloabout a year ago in Humans
How I Lost My Baby Teeth
See that adorable little girl on the tricycle? Looking so trusting and innocent? She is the spitting image of me at five years old, except I had buck teeth and was skinnier. I was trusting and very innocent though, which made me comic fodder for the older, bigger kids in the neighborhood.
By Tina D'Angeloabout a year ago in Families
Between the Covers
In between the covers is a world of fantasy for me. Role playing and play acting- pretending my life is far more exciting than it truly is. I don't need to travel to exotic places to live out my delusions. Between these delicious covers my deepest, darkest desires become reality.
By Tina D'Angeloabout a year ago in Poets
Under the Black Light
If walls could talk I would be the talk of the town. I've supported the flimsy roof of this tiny motel on the rundown side of town for sixty-plus years. This motel has seen many guests come and go. Mostly come. Then, again, most didn't stick around too long after.
By Tina D'Angeloabout a year ago in Confessions
Just Dump Me in the Desert
At the tender age of nineteen, I met a thirty-two-year-old man who wanted to be my boss. Oops, I mean, who wanted to be my boyfriend. Yes, that was it. He had decided I should stop dancing in strip clubs so he could marry me. Unfortunately, he didn’t share that decision with me until we were on the road for what was supposed to be a vacation.
By Tina D'Angeloabout a year ago in Humans
That's What I Love About You
Friday night in Cleveland, where I’d been dancing at the Paris XXX-Theater was predicted to be a blow-out ice storm, coming in off Lake Erie. The other dancers were keen on going out on the town after the midnight show, no matter what. Being from lake country near Rochester, I knew what was in store for us with the weather. So, after the midnight show, I hunkered down with a cup of hot tea and a game of Rummy with Charlie in the apartment, while Cherry and Billie went on the prowl at the local bars.
By Tina D'Angeloabout a year ago in Filthy
The Big Times
I had recently returned to Rochester, New York, from my ill-fated trip to Arizona with my ex-boyfriend, Frank. A delightful fellow with a rap sheet longer than my very long legs for a short girl. He introduced me to the world of running from the police and dodging, ducking, and diving from uppercuts and right hooks. We had met at a strip club where we were both working. He was not a stripper. I was. He was the manager.
By Tina D'Angeloabout a year ago in Humans
Hurt Me, Baby, I'll Grow Horns
Looking back on the years I spent dancing in strip clubs when I was in my twenties, it is clearly evident to me now that I was not smart or tough enough to be working around the people that I had to be with every day. A friend of mine recently suggested that being in a different town every week and working in strip clubs left me vulnerable to men who could easily fool me into thinking they were someone they were not.
By Tina D'Angeloabout a year ago in Filthy
Life, a Page Turner
My stripping career had been waylaid by a dislocated knee. It took three months to recover and I was anxious to get back onstage where I belonged. Everywhere else made me feel like a lonely, awkward stranger. Onstage I knew exactly what to do, and how to act. I was in charge and never had to ask for permission to be me. Give me a wooden floor and some music and the rest of my pathetic life didn't matter.
By Tina D'Angeloabout a year ago in Filthy
Angel Wings on a Strip Stage
It seemed as though I’d been dancing all my life. My neighbors took dance lessons when we were all five. My mother wouldn’t let me take them because I was skinny and clumsy. So, I would visit the two girls every Saturday afternoon to see what they had learned that morning at ballet class. They put up with me until they got bored and sent me home after I memorized plies, releves, first, second, third positions, and more.
By Tina D'Angeloabout a year ago in Humans
A Lid for Every Kettle
I know a thing or two about breasts, from personal experience. Having been a skinny pre-teen longing for my mother to finally let me wear a real bra, to a fourteen-year-old coming home from Summer camp overflowing my training bra with 36 C breasts. Going from invisible to very visible in two short weeks. I had no idea why my older sister’s boyfriends were suddenly paying attention to me, the annoying little sister, who they used to shoo away.
By Tina D'Angeloabout a year ago in Filthy
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