Counting Bodies Like Sheep

Tomorrow is Frank's birthday. Today we have off. Meaning that LAST NIGHT, we went to a strip club.

It was my first time, but apparently not Frank's. (I guess there was this chick in Medford who danced to Rob Zombie and lit her nipples on fire... You can't really top that...)

I thought it was gonna be lame, because I heard horror stories about strip clubs from Kris. He said all the chicks had stretch marks and cigarette burns and ass pimples - and that they were far from sexy.

This club wasn't half bad, actually. I mean a lot of the dancers were pretty stereotypical and boring. Seriously. Who wants to watch some chick up on a stage making the exact same faces she makes in her Myspace pictures for 10 minutes?

Some of the girls had personality - and they were fun as hell. See, the girls bathroom happened to be in the strippers' dressing room. So I got to BS with them a little backstage.

Frank and I didn't sit right up on the stage. We didn't have enough tip money. I mean, we went in with $60. Cover was $14, and every time we bought a round of drinks for ourselves was also $14. Needless to say, I didn't even get buzzed. We didn't have the money to tip the dancers - but that didn't stop Frank from tipping our Cocktail waitress like crazy. And tttttttruuuust me. He had my full permission. I had it for her hard. She was way hotter than any of the dancers, in my humble opinion.
She had the facial bone structure and smile of Ani DiFranco.
She wore a black laced corset, bondage collar, and black knee-length pleated skirt with calf-high platform combat boots over thigh-high purple and black striped socks.
She had snake-bite piercings in her lower lips, as well as a nose piercing. The jewelry was tiny and adorable - not big and gaudy.
She had a literary reference tattoo (Hitchhiker's guide to the Galaxy), and when she made eye contact with you - it was like magic and sunshine COMBINED.

I joked with Frank: "Don't you think its a little creepy that despite the mostly-naked girls are spreading their legs for us less than 5 feet away - we can't stop staring at the cocktail waitress across the bar?"

Although, I have to complain. When did laying on your back, sticking your stilettos straight up in the air, and then wobbling your ankles become sexy? Not rotating. WOBBLING. Not graceful gyration. FUCKING BOBBLEHEAD DEGREE WOBBLING!!!!! 90% of the girls did it at some point during their routines, and every time it happened - a little part of me died.


Overall, it was pretty fun. I mean, I couldn't really afford to ever go do it again. But it *WAS* Frank's birthday celebration, and I *did* win $50 off of a $1 scratcher.

So yeah, good times.