Sunday, March 22, 2009

I went to a strip club.

well, abby had her bachelorette party. which was planned out by someone who wasn't me. which is how we ended up at the strip club.

i had never been to a strip club, nor have i ever wanted to go. in fact, my only experience involving a stripper was at a high school friend's birthday party; he was the least expensive stripped in all of tucson's yellowpages. can you even imagine??? and go figure, he needed a ride home afterward (i have no idea how he got there in the first place). giving the stripper a ride home was not something any of us were willing to do. what we were willing to do however, was call him a cab and shove him out the door to wait for it.


so who else was on the guest list for the evening's events? oh, just one of abby's friends who has only been drunk once in her life, loves to embroider, and has a 5 month old baby at home (she left early), and abby's friend J, with whom i went to high school (i used to go up to her locker when she had it open, stick my arm in, and pull everything out of it and onto the floor, and then walk away, if that tells you anything about our relationship). oh, J's friend that none of knew was also in attendance. my point here is that the obvious "we're here cuz it's a wild and crazy bachelorette party" visual was not attainable. we were, instead, a small group of girls, at the strip club.

in my attempt to avoid the strip club altogether, i figured we should stop at the meet rack (be sure to read aaron a's review). ( quick facts about the meet rack: a man who calls himself "god" runs it; they brand people with an image of god's face (50 cents off drinks for life!); there is a room filled with sex equipment (swings, chairs, cuffs etc); this room is also filled with pictures of people engaging in sex on the equipment; AA members get free drinks for life; God has a gold and diamond ring shaped like a penis that he wears proudly.) so obviously, i thought the bar would be weird and exciting enough to get me out of the strip club adventure...but it turns out, the other girls were just too creeped out by the vibrating dildos on the bar to even order a second round.

it was strip club time.

the bachelorette, drunk, but not wasted, partook in an onstage strip show. motorboating, simulated oral sex, rubbing and grinding with not one, not two, but three strippers, including one with braces, who she later tracked down for a little private lap dance. there was some legit, cute strippers, i wont lie. so i was a little annoyed that she preferred the beat chicks. but of course, the hottest girl in the club wasn't even a stripper. she was a waitress. clearly though, none of this actually matters because i was not about to, and now i never, ever will, partake in any sort of lap dance. really though, motorboating?? i'll just keep ordering beers.

so, in the end, the best part about the strip club? how my reeboks looked in the black light. the worst part about the strip club? how my sneakers felt covered in a stripper's spilled red bull.

1 comment:

Kevin said...

Please publish this as a longer non-fiction short story, it's ripe with material.

"loves to embroider" is the best detail ever!

You have to take me to the Meet Rack, even if I probably will just pass out from anxiety and disgust.