Strippers!
Oh my lord...where has the time and money gone?As you know, Corinna is spending two fun-filled weeks on a sailboat cruise in the East Carribean while I'm here in the snow with work and homework and school. But it's not all bad because for two glorious weeks I am a (quasi) bachelor once again.
Don't get me wrong...Cori and I are great and couldn't be better. But if you always are eating chocolate icecream 'cause it's your favorite thing in the whole wide world, it's kinda nice to have the option to switch back to vanilla. But it's not like I'd want to STAY with vanilla...because on the whole, chocolate is way better.
Now...with the pleasantries aside...let me describe to you a recent monday night shenanigan that was witnessed by myself, Jody, and Moose.
It started innocently enough. I was sitting in Dick Beason's BUEC 502 class -- yes, he prefers to be called DICK -- and my phone was vibrating more than Mish's favorite sex toy. Now....that's NOT A SHOT against the lovely bride-to-be, but more of an off-handed commentary on the skills...er, lack there of...of my good friend Jon Houle.
The call display: Jody Blair. 5 missed calls.
Now...being that I NEVER get called on a Monday, I somehow instinctively knew that the reason for the call wasn't for a pleasent social chat. As soon as class was done, I called J-dizzle and was told to come to his place for some hard core beer drinking and strippers. I quickly booked it home, packed an overnight bag -- yes, I was prepared! -- and heading back to face my destiny in Apartment 710 (whatever that might be).
Upon rolling into Jody's, I had to play catch-up. You see, they had been drinking since at least 8:00 and it was now 10:00...so I had to drink like a Irish Catholic Highschool Principle who keeps a bottle of whiskey in the top right hand drawer of his desk and takes a pull even time a teenage female gets knocked up, or a boy molests a nun, or a priest rapes a choir boy.
Two-fisting Kokanee like it was water, I quickly caught up to my two sidekicks. Besides, RAW was on and you all know how they likes the wrestling. They were too enamoured with the likes of Trish Status to continue drinking.
Once we were good and liquored we made our way to Diamond's Strip Club. On a monday. I was worried that we'd be the only one's in there... I was wrong. The place was packed. WITH WOMEN.
No word of a lie, the club had about 35% women.
You know, I love the female sexual revolution. Back in the day, all you'd see in a strip club is dirty, greasy, unshaven men (i.e. your dad) with a fist full of dollar bills -- who here in Canada remembers THOSE days? -- sitting in gyno row with shit eating grins on their faces watching the poontang stroll back and forth. Because I can barely relate to these apes, it's kinda nice to see females in the joint. Not only does it make the place more classy -- the men feel they have to behave for the "real women" in the joint -- but more importantly the dudes feel they may actually have a shot with these fine fillies and hit on them at the strip club leaving perverts row wide open.
Thus, we grabbed three beer -- $17.50 in total -- and grabbed a front row seat.
What I witnessed transcends words. It was as though these women were dancing especially for us. The fact that we'd throw $20 in loonies there way had NOTHING to do with it. Not to mention that it was "Amatuer wet T-shirt night" and, well, I was on top of the world.
But while I was content to sip on beer and Ceaser's, Moose and Jody had ideas of private dances floating on their heads. (both of 'em, er...and both of their heads). After Jody came back from his first lapper, he asked how come I wasn't getting one.
The answer, or course, was because he had just spent $20 and had been in that room for only 5 minutes. (Honestly, I timed it)! That's not a good return for the money spent, when I could see (basically) the same thing for "free" from the front row of the club.
As I was discussing the merits of a lap dance with Jody, Moose himself went in for a private dance. I started the timer... 5 minutes. 10. 15. 25. 30 freaking minutes. Moose comes out of the private dance room and heads STRAIGHT TO THE CASH MACHINE. I will swear on my grave that Moose got a little rub and tug, or perhaps a lil' cock gobblin' underneath the table (both literally and figuratively).
I attemped to quiz him on just what exactly had gone on. His response was classic Moose, "I don't know...I guess she just liked me 'cause I was talking to her and shit, and 'cause I'm so hot"
Uh. Right. Moose, there aren't enough "O's" in smoooooooooth to describe you, buddy.
Anyhow, moving on... (uh, should I tell you this happened at least twice more in the evening)? Look...I COULD describe to you all the raunchy details, all the stripper posters, fridge magnets, and key chains we earned. I could tell you about all the people we phoned to mock whilst drunk, or how we collectively spent more money than the GDP of a small third world nation. But that would only serve to make you jealous, and since jealousy is a sin, I figure I'll leave out the sorrid details and keep you all on the plus side with the Big Guy upstairs.
I know that you are wondering, "Can this night GET any better"?
The answer is yes...yes it can.
After they kick us out at closing time, we decide to go to Keegans for some mighty fine eats. As we sit down to our chocolate milkshakes and burgers, 3 of the strippers (uh, the house ones...not the hot headliners) waltz in to the restaurant.
They are immediately swarmed by two brown dudes who, regretably, remind me of Kunal (sorry buddy). One of the more brazen assholes try to sit with the girls -- the three chicks were sitting 3 people in a 4 man booth. They wanted none of this and told him to get the fuck out. But it took a good 5 minutes and two waitresses to get this douche bag to move....right next to the table beside these girls!
Oy vay!
Realizing that he wasn't going to "get any" he proceeded to them sluts, whores, ... every name under the book. You know, things that you shouldn't ever call a girl to her face! I felt SOOO bad and wanted to do something, like rain a storm of thunder on the face of Captain Asshole.
But considering that Moose and Jody were more interested in their food than backing a brotha' up, I decided that in my drunken state, 2 against 1 wasn't in my favor EVEN THOUGH I am built like a brick shit house*
* = it's my blog and can embellish if I want to.
Instead, I went back to my tasty fries-and-gravy when the next thing I know, a piece of ice hits me square in the balls and Jody is drenched in water as a plastic cup goes pinging off the top of his head.
Turns out that the girl that was getting the most upset over the Kunal-wannabe threw her glass of water in the face of this guy. Then she proceeded to beat him on the head with said cup before throwing it at him (which missed, hitting Jody instead).
What fireworks! What drama!
They leave crying. I feel bad, but what can we do? We finish eating, pay our bill, and leave (20 minutes later). Lo and behold, those girls are STILL OUTSIDE. The one girl is crying and her friends are trying to console her. Moose -- who's DREAM is to sleep with a stripper -- tells the lady that she did the right thing. I pipe up and announce that the dick head was a total asshole.
Jody says nothing. Well, maybe, "Fuck ... lets just go...". But that doesn't count.
The kind words of me and John lift the heart of this young lass. Her friends say, "See, these guys support you...". She dries her eyes and thanks us (with a blow job). Okay...just kidding, I'm trying to see if you are still paying attention!
They tell us that we are perfect, handsome gentlemen (clearly, they are more hammered than we are) and bid us a fond adieu.
I head back to Jody's and fall asleep. Just another day in paradise! Those girls may have left our lives, but they'll never leave our hearts and minds.
Oh. And you may wonder what happened to all the stripper paraphenalia. Well, I took them to work with me to give to Sophie (who's never been to a strip club). I told her that she could use them as decoration for her wedding...she told me to go take a flying leap. Meh, you win some and lose some, I guess.
posted by Team Shawn Michaels @ 10:23 a.m.
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