Thursday, April 28, 2005

The Strip Club - Part I

"… Brad, let me impart some wisdom on you that I’ve learned through the years: All Boobies Is Good Boobies."
-Nelson

My friends, truer words have never been spoken.
It’s not often that the events of one night give you so much to write about, but it just so happened that one of these Haley’s comets occurred last night: The Strip Club

Strip Clubs are a wonderful invention. They allow you to abandon all pretenses of political correctness and revel in the beauty which is professionally nude women. It’s a place where money really does solve all your problems. And because I think so highly of these establishments, I’m going to share with you my thoughts on them today.

The Law
The State of New York has fairly strict regulations regarding strip joints and alcohol. It basically breaks them down into two categories: alcoholic and non-alcoholic. In the teetotaler clubs, otherwise known as “juice bars,” women can go bottomless and you wind up paying 8 bucks for a Snapple.
If they do serve alcohol, the girls are required to wear at least a thong, and you’re separated from the dancers by about 6 feet of stage and 3-foot high fence. If you feel the need to give them a tip, they have to cover themselves up before taking your money. Talk about taking all the fun out of it (this gets even more annoying when guys tip during the act and not after it. Since REO Speedwagon only plays for so long, you lose about 30 seconds of boob time for each dead president the girls receive). The worst part about the alcohol bars is that you completely lose the ability to pull the dollar-bill-in-the-mouth move, which, let’s face it, is an absolutely vital part of the visit.

The Girlfriend
Even though I was going out with a few buddies, I invited my girlfriend to go with us, since she enjoys these types of excursions (again: sorry, she's taken). To make a long story short, I’ll just paraphrase the email chain between my buddy and I:
Him: You’re just doing this to get out of trouble.
Me: You’re an idiot. I’m doing this so we can have conversations later such as the following. “Did you see the cans on that blonde one?” “Yeah, those were awesome.”
Besides, you only get in trouble for going to strip clubs for one of a few reasons:
1. Your wife is threatening divorce
2. You’ve been arrested more than 3 times for killing strippers
3. Your daughter works there
Him: But you've killed strippers. 8 to be exact.
Me: Yes, but I said arrested. I've never been arrested for it.
(Author's note: We're into morbid stripper-killing humor. Apologies to any actual stripper murderers who were offended by this joke)
Him: But you forgot the fourth reason-- what if your girlfriend dumps you and starts dating one of the strippers?
Me: (Silent)

Sadly, the girlfriend couldn’t make it so it became a guy's night. In hindsight, I'm not sure this was a bad thing.


Coming up in Part 2: The Fat Stripper, The Talented Stripper and more...

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