So, Saturday night I saw a Jason Voorhees stripper. Yeah, y'all want my rock star life.
And then after the stripper I got into about four or five different conversations with different people about strippers. Male strippers vs. female strippers. How it's hot when female strippers work the pole but gross when male strippers work the pole. Male revues vs. the lone male stripper coming to your house for a bachelor/bachelorette party. How female strippers have the foxy plastic (lucite!) footwear but male strippers wear sneakers or boots. How Heidi Fleiss is opening up a male bordello for girls in Nevada. How you can touch all you want with male strippers but will lose a hand if you touch female strippers. How a girl almost never has to pay for her own lap dance in a female strip club. Male strippers for guys vs. male strippers for girls. At one point I turned to a guy I was in one of these conversations with and said, "not that I'm a stripper expert or anything." And while this is true (Daddy, I am NOT a stripper expert) I realized I'd been talking about them for about 15-20 minutes with just this one person. I am such trash. My mama must be so embarrassed.
No comments:
Post a Comment