My job has expired. No more city, no free car. No more jackass boss telling me I can either work or take classes. So what does one do when you lose a job you like simply for wanting to go to school? Go golfing, eating a lot of good mexican food, drinking good mexican food and of course. The strip club.
Strip clubs have never been one of the places I go on a regular basis. In fact including yesterday, this makes two times I've ever been in one. Of course the free beer, (water with yeast) was a big selling point to get me into one, but really, I don't like them. Rather I didn't like them. Ever think about using the bathroom in a strip club? We know you've thought about it, THAT'S why you don't use them. Some elderly, nasty, viagra popping pervert wacking his shit onto a bathroom floor and then touching the stall door with that cum covered hand then goes out to sit in some chair that other elderly, nasty, viagra popping pervert was just touching himself in is just plan sick. Not to mention, I really don't like when my feet stick to the floor and I know it's not cherry soda on the floor! But I think I'm over that.
I had my first lapdance…and my second, and my third for that matter. And let me tell you. Next to computer's and video games and programming, that is one hell of an invention! Not only do these women put on the act of a life time all night, they ASK for a tip. Sure, I know these girls only work for tips, and I know they get taxed on their tips, but don't ASK me for it. It's coming! Let me get my hard-on back down under my boxers and grab my wallet! You just shoved your woman-hood into my face, OF COURSE YOU'RE GETTING A TIP! Show some decency here, waitresses don't ASK you for money, if they're good they get some. If I ever had a waitress ask me for a tip, I'd complain to the manager until my dinner was free.
Now, back to the topic on hand: Strippers, strip clubs and the men that go there.
When I go out, I like to watch the people. I like to see how they react to the situation, to the environment around them, how other people stimulate you. And let me tell you, there is no better place to do that than a strip club. It's the ultimate in extrasensory stimulation; the bass and beat of the music, the naked women on stage shaking their shit at you so you can toss a buck under the strap. Big ass bouncers waiting for you get so drunk that you touch one of their dancers. 18-60 year old men, wishing, hoping, praying, thinking that one of these girls is going to let them take her home. Some pretty frat boy trying to wooze a stripper into a night of premature ejaculate on her chest because he couldn't wait and give her a decent 45 seconds that he's used to doing for the sluts he finds and drugs at the night clubs all over town.
I go to these clubs with no outside expectations of getting laid because you and I both know it's not going to happen. No way in hell am I taking one of these girls home me. So I don't play the game. I watch and smile, and I know that I couldn't get one of these girls to notice me if ran over her pet poodle with a lawn mower. They only reason they talk to me is for the tips. (The ones that they kindly ASK for). They hustle, they act, they play a part that fills a void in these men's lives for 5 minutes at a time and these men eat it up. Because they too couldn't get these women to talk to them anywhere else but there.
So let's hear it for the bouncers, let's hear it for good lonely viagra popping old men and for whiskey dicked frat boys. �Let's hear it for the DJ's and the guy in the bathroom that pumps your soap. Let's hear it for the bitchy one downstairs stuck serving the free beer. Let's hear it for the strippers. For christ's sake people, let's hear it for adult stores and Friday nights on cinemax. Let's hear it for the power of the money that drives these women to shake their ass in my face. Let's hear it for the strippers!
(Edited by TheFinn at 12:04 am on April 21, 2003)
