IF YOU LIKE NUDITY, YOULL LIKE THIS POST....

Why is it that whenever I meet somebody for the first time.....the topic of strippers comes up, in the first 5 minutes? Mostly,..... I think its because Im ridiculous. I also think its because I love a sweet camel toe....or just a plain ole exposed vagina. I also love to give it money.

We were at our favorite restaurant last night, for a bite and 73 drinks. We plopped down at the bar, to assail the war on our livers. To our right was a gay couple, and to our left was a straight couple. And let me just say this......why is it I always prefer the straighties to the queens? To the bitchy homos to my right from last....TAKE YOUR ATTITUDE DOWN TO A SHOUT FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!!! Lighten the fuck up, would you.?

Shit!

The straighties to my left were white. But I wasnt going to hold it against them. I mostly liked them, because the woman ordered a cucumber cocktail, didnt like it, and gave it to me. I immediately preferred her company to Russ's.

Within 5 minutes, we were onto the subject of strip clubs. I dont have a lot of time for formalities. " Hi.....oh yes....Im Ryan. You ? Oh, nice to meet you Beth and Michael. So, have you ever caught the flu from a lap dance?" This is how I like to weed out potential conversation partners. Ill bring up strippers, gay bars, pornography. All of my favorites. It separates the men from the boys, pretty quickly. It also lets people know that I have a huge mental disorder.....and to proceed with caution. Its a win/win for everybody involved.

Im gay, but I love female strip clubs. And dont give me this " topless" bullshit, either. BBBBOOORRRIIINNNGGG!!! I want beaver, and I want it now. Preferably 3 inches from my face. Of course I enjoy an A list, Penthouse, quality stripper...working the Saturday midnight shift.....

but....

You KNOW I love a good crack whore stripper. On a Sunday afternoon at 1:45. . Her name is Toffee...or maybe...Saturate. A while back, I was there....on a Sunday....at 1:45.....and theres my girl. Twenty pounds under weight. Balding. A sweet pair of scuffed up high heels from TJ Max. A misspelled tattoo, an eggplant colored C section scar....and a bruise the size of a fist on her thigh. I immediately began to salivate.....( which would also be a good stripper name). LAP DANCE TIME! LAP DANCE TIME! She came over to my friend and I, so we could experience her halitosis...up close and personal. My drunk bitch friend reached over and touched her bruise and said...' oh gosh, are you ok"...to which, the stripper screamed in her face.....' MY BOYFRIEND DIDNT HIT ME!"

The moral of the story? Who's the bigger asshole? The stripper working on a Sunday afternoon, or the 2 drunk douchebags sitting in the club on a Sunday afternoon? I think we all know the answer to that question.