So. I'm amused by this blog found at Lisa's blog (which probably means it must amuse her too) and now, I frequent it. What can I say, it reminds me of the many hours I've spent at strip joints, with or without alcohol, which means either it's just a topless place (just a topless place if you consider booty floss underwear) where alcohol is served or it's a total nudie where there isn't a drop of the stuff (O'doul's you say? O'doul's is not beer O.K.?).
What would someone like me be doing spending numerous hours at strip joints you ask? For fun. Really. And no. I'm neither butch-femme-lesbian-what-have-you. We just get a lot of guests who feel the need to go to these joints when they hit The Vegas, and there's nothing wrong with enjoying a nude sashay down the stage and up a pole every once in a while, also I don't see anything wrong with my husband doing the same. Except for times when you realize you're in the same totally nude joint for the second time, without your husband, in less than two weeks, and you haven't had enough alcohol in your system yet, and the girls' platform lucite heels begin to start clacking together too loudly as they slide down the pole head first and you're noticing every detail, like how each girl wipes down the pole with a washcloth right before their turn to dance. Kinda just rubs away the mystique dunnit?
1:22 PM | |
