I was talked into going to a not-so-great gentlemen’s club Saturday night. Apparently gentlemen drink canned beer and 40’s, wear t-shirts long enough to be summer dresses, or go alone to peruse the talent creepily, but I will move on. I finally found something worse than doing comedy to seven apathetic strangers. Stripping. When did strippers not have to be hot to take off all their clothes for strangers? If you’ve never been to a strip club, think of Hooters and how they will pretty much put anything out there these days. If you’ve never been to a strip club or Hooters, you’re too uptight to keep reading. Please go to another website.
One chick out of the whole lot Saturday was what I would consider “hot”, but she had more tattoos than a prison gang. I like tattoos, hell I have one, but once you hit double digits, you’re out of control. Plus, other than a huge tatty on the side of the neck, nothing is less attractive than ink on a titty. How’s that going to look in a decade? The rest of the crew was pretty OK to downright fugly. (I have never typed that word in my life. I don’t know how I feel about that.) Look, I can’t understand periodic tables. Therefore, I am not a chemist. When you weigh 210 lbs. at 5’4″, have A cups, and can’t heft your cottage cheese leg past six inches…don’t strip.
I like strip clubs. I like strippers. I like lugging in my own beer and looking at naked women. Yet bad strip clubs are like bad anything else. Example: I love football, but I’m not going to pay to see your high school tapes of football. St. Mary’s vs. Cedarville in 1994? And you were a 155 lb. pulling guard? Fascinating! Pop in the tapes! Plus as a side note, is there anything worse than when a sexy dancer gets you all worked up, then moves and you make eye contact with a 52 year old balding man sitting on the other side of the stage? I say no. You nearly have a stroke as your brain goes from sexy time mode to Oh my God, this is the gayest eye contact I have ever had.