One of my best friends is visiting this week and as we were all together reconnecting, she told us she was determined to go to a strip club. Determined.
For the record, I have only been to one strip club, once, and that was more than enough.
Apparently she's never been, and she feels this hole in her experience needs to be rectified. Immediately. Alas, the heart wants what it wants!
So guess where we were last night?
All told, it was alright. They had a special on, you buy a drink and you get a free meal. It was a pretty bland, cafeteria-style affair, but the man serving us had a delightful surliness about him.
I feel here they missed out on an amazing opportunity: why wasn't there a scantily-clad lunch lady?
I mean, it's a strip club. It's not like there's a shortage of naked ladies to choose from. They're everywhere: serving drinks, dancing, soliciting dances, getting backrubs from the clientele... "You're really good with your hands, mister" (actual quote). Yeah, sure he is.
Evidently, my friend has not gotten the stripper bug out of her system yet. Tonight we're going to the famous(-ish) Zanibar's! You know, from that Tenacious D song? If you haven't heard it, you dear Reader, have missed out.
This time there's talk of lap dances. I may be forced to partake. You know, for science.
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