Warning: Cursing and Partial Nudity Ahead. Whoo-Hoo!

It has been a hell of a last two weeks. Everything in my life has combined forces to make more work for me than I've had to deal with in quite some time, and my stress level went through the roof. So when the bar down from my favorite bar advertised a "male revue", me and Director/Buddy signed up. What ensued was pretty much normal for us, as it ended with security people rushing to the scene.

Most of the women were already drunk when we got there , and so came sloshing over to us muttering, "Whirrs nekkid mann?" Honey, I don't know. I'm waiting, too. Don't ash your cigarette on me, please. The room was so smoky it looked like smog. I was surprised there weren't more women there, but I guess most of them were denied permission to go. We took a seat at the bar, most of the ladies fighting for tables down front. Being higher than the other women offers better viewing opportunities and strippers work the room, so it really doesn't make a difference if you're down there front and center. They come to you. But first they had to fucking get there.

The strippers were 1 1/2 hours late. A not very attractive man who was past his prime as a stripper was working the room, basically trying to crack as many dirty jokes as he could to keep the women from rioting. I have a link further down to what this man looks like, as the security feature of the evening relates to him. I found one other picture of him on Google Images, but it's too pornographic to post. It probably didn't help his case that a couple of months before he had tried to rent a house from Director/Buddy but couldn't come up with the money. When there aren't naked men to go along with your bottled beer, all you really have left is, well, bottled beer. After a few, we began to get bored. When Director/Buddy gets bored, she gets sarcastic. When I get bored, I get into trouble.

So when MasterMind working the room gets within grabbing distance, I've already grabbed his microphone and said, "Don't you know that the number one turn off for women is when men are fucking LATE? We're drinking up your tip money." The women in the room start hooting. He switches the mike off quick and makes a big show of recognizing Director/Buddy. "Hey," I butt in, "if they don't get here, maybe you could be the show, and then you'd have enough tip money to rent her place." If looks could kill. "Honey, I am part of the show," he says. "Then, SHOW US YER ASS!" I yell at top volume. The women all resume hooting. He moves away quickly. He bills himself as an "Adult Film/Indi Film Actor/TV Personality/& TNA Wrestling Star." And yet he's surprisingly difficult to find anywhere else but Myspace. I finally decided he was completely full of shit, and that he would be my personal target for harassment the rest of the night. Every so often he keeps coming around and trying to flirt, saying things like: "You have a hole in your pants," and touching my leg, to which I respond, "You must be some kind of genius! No wonder you're the brains of this outfit." Frowny faces and moving away quickly again.

When the strippers finally did arrive, the first dude was billed as a Jamaican. Of course, what else would you bill the black man as in West Virginia? I found out the other option later. He was Fakin', maybe, but he ain't Jamaican. He came out to Black Sweat, by Prince. Anytime someone opens with Prince, that should be exciting. It was a waste of a good song. Instead, he began pulling girls into his lap and making them dance around. I'm sorry. I wasn't aware this was your personal show. I was under the impression there would be naked dancing men here. Several other women who hadn't gotten any male attention in a long time, though, thought it was great, so what do I know? Still bored. It's about at this point that I realize this isn't going to be the full monty. Getting more aggravated.

The second guy, JP, was billed as 6'4". For a second, I thought The Undesirable Element had a second job I wasn't aware of, particularly since I now know he has access to a tuxedo. Now that would've been entertaining. When the guy came out, he obviously knew how to strip. He danced around for his first song and came out to work the crowd during his second song. I noticed as he was dancing around the front tables that most of the women didn't have their money out. I'm not sure they understood this was a tipping event. My trusty Economics degree says the law of the dollar will prevail, so I raise a few of them in the air. Even though he's halfway across the room, he points at my dollars and heads my way. Suckers.

After some amusing stripper action, the third guy comes out. This one really knew what he was doing. He was also smart enough to realize that two of the chicks in the room knew how to tip. So over he came. He was the other black guy, and since the Fakin' had already taken the Jamaica label, he came out to the rap song (naturally) as, what else, an African Warrior complete with feather. Think this, but with less covering:

He was strong for a little guy, witnessed by the fact that for two dollars I got picked up and put around his neck and spun around the room a bunch of times. Wheee!! He got most of my stripper money.

The final act, which is supposed to be the best, was done by the Master Mind himself. Disappointment, thy name is Damien Lee. It probably didn't help that I was yelling throughout his act "Bring back JP!!" But he hauls Director/Buddy to the center of the floor and then proceeds to go work the other side of the room, leaving her sitting there. It wasn't until I trotted up to the floor to bring her a few dollars and her beer from the bar (and all the other women started laughing) that he finally turned around and realized he should get back to her. Apparently the coup de gras of his act is to set his crotch on fire. It took him a couple of goes at it, but he did, in fact, set his crotch on fire. It should've been impressive, but it wasn't.

So where does security come in? Let's see. Immediately after the show, the strippers went around the room mingling with the ladies and the strange new influx of local men, probably hoping to clean up with the ladies after the cock tease. Mr. Disappointment comes nearby. He has on his g-string. I'm still kind of pissed that it wasn't a full monty show. So I decided to make it one. I jerked his g-string down to his knees. He screeched and pulled it back up, making the mistake of coming even closer to us. So I grabbed it again, and tried to pull it down. He starts yelling "You can't do that!!" And decides that to show me, he's going to squat down, hopefully breaking my grip on his drawers. He squats, but my hand doesn't go anywhere, so all he gets is a monumental wedgie. He starts squalling at this point and yelling for security. "You're in Pxxx County," I mocked him, "Who've you got coming, the Hot Cops?" I don't think he caught my Arrested Development reference.



The women, of course, were loving it. Next thing I know, there are six other men around me, including two of the previous strippers. I think they thought I was drunk, as there were two methods used to try and pry me loose. The first method was sultry talk, the second was outright physical force. "You a bad girl, aren't you? I like bad girls. Let's go over here and talk about it." "So, you're reinforcing my bad behavior by rewarding me with strippers? Brilliant move." Then it turned to physical force. I don't think they were trying very hard. But I was enjoying Mr. Disappointment writhing around with his wedgie far too much to just let go. Bottom line, when enough men said please enough times, I let go and he darted away. Here's a link to what he looks like; you can imagine him with a wedgie. He's also lying about his age.

We laughed our asses off all the way home.


Bottom line, we were expecting this:


But ended up having a reaction more like this:


The same clown is doing a show in this town in about a week. I'm considering going just for the laugh factor.

-- Virgil