It's a sign of the bad economic times. I just realized I haven't been to a strip club in years. There was a time when I'd get my quarterly bonus, or birthday card money and head off for some adult entertainment. Times are tough. I don't venture out anymore. The Spearmint Rhino has closed. Gosh, I hope it wasn't because of my lack of patronage. Actually, I don't miss it. Strippers and I have a checkered past.
Body glitter is possibly the worst invention invention ever created. Each time you receive a table dance, the stripper ends up leaving her "mark" on me. I not only end up with the smell of cheap perfume all over me, I get glitter all over me.
One night I went to a club and got a couple table dances from a cute little Asian gal. I went home afterwards and went straight to bed. The next morning, I am woke up by the girl I was seeing yelling at me and wanting to know who the slut was I brought home last night. I proclaimed my innocence and ignorance. At that point, she pointed out the glitter in my bed. It wasn't only in my bed, it was everywhere. I had left a trail up the walk, through the living room and into my bedroom. That girl had done a number on me. I was guilty by exfoliation.
When I worked for Red Bull, I was invited to a charity golf tournament thrown by a local club. I was thrilled. Stripper and golf, how could there be a greater sports entertainment combination. We began by having breakfast at the club. Scrambled eggs and G strings. Things were starting out great. Our marketing rep had acquired a "caddy" for us also. What joy we had as we headed for the course. We were going to have a lovely young lady to clean our clubs and read our putts.
We arrived at the course and things began taking a turn for the worse. Strippers are like vampires. Neither should be exposed to the sun. Their pale skin and scars glared at us. We got out caddy, and headed out to our hold assignment. Our caddy started complaining about the heat. This was only slightly less annoying than her chain smoking. She didn't clean clubs. She didn't read putts. She was as entertaining as a paper cut.
We could see the other caddies dancing and laughing around the course. That would have been great if our caddy did the same to distract us. But, the action of the other caddies slowed the pace down to a crawl. It took up six hours to play eighteen holes.
About half way through the round,a stripper pulled up in a cart to one of the on course bathroom. We were waiting to tee off and I was bored. I decided to take her cart and hide it around the corner of the building. "Snicker snicker." "I'm so danged funny."
She didn't think so. She came out and started yelling at me. She found her cart and left only after telling me to do something I couldn't physically do. I didn't care. I entertained our group.
After we finished our round, we staggered back to the club for the awards ceremony and a free steak dinner. On the way back to the club, I was digging in the bag they gave us and found a coupon for a free table dance. I knew exactly who I was going to have as my personal entertainer. I found the girl that had cussed me out for hiding her cart and insisted she dance for me. The other three guys in my group got inspired and used their coupons for her to continue giving me dance after dance. The indignant look on her face made it all worth while.
The lessons I learned that day were:
1. Keep strippers in poorly lit places
2. Breakfast is better with pole dancing
3. Golf and dancers don't go together
and most importantly
4. The lap dance is always better when the stripper's angry
