Tuesday...was the work Christmas party. It was held at The Granfalloon this year, and not someones house...which means that no one got rip-snorting drunk and passed out on top the coat check.
It was a sedate gathering, to say the least. That will probably never happen again.
We had the room until 9pm, which was far too early for some folks to call it a night, so a group of us went over to Cafe Trio where folks sipped on martinis such as the Paris Hilton (Pink Panties), the Mel Gibson (Passion of the Fruit), Courtney Love (Liquid Cocaine), and the Betty Ford (non-alcoholic).
It is there that folks either a: sober up or b: get further sauced. One person gets so tanked she announces to the entire restaurant that big boobs were no laughing matter. An extra person arrives, who is the girlfriend of Agnostic's brother. She is oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend is currently on the Plaza with some other chick.
Moving right along...
So, Cafe Trio closes, and the four remaining (see title) stand around wondering "what's next?". The Agnostic thinks its a swell idea to go visit a strip club. Everyone else looks around, bewildered. Because we are too chicken-shit to say no, we go along.
The place is called Temptations. It's a strip club. We pay $19 cover charge for something I can go home and look at for free. The place is dark, and has a seedy feel. Agnostic is the only one who feels at home. The rest of us feel like we're on an alien planet wondering, "What is God's name am I doing here?"
We find a table and plant ourselves. Agnostic is surveying the spread (literally), the rest of us are trying not to make eye contact with anyone. A dancer wanders by and tells us we are going to have a good time.
So, the dancers do what passes for dancing: shake their ass, grab their boobs, wave their va-jay-jay in the faces of various patrons for dollars. ONE DOLLAR BILLS! I think I'd still prefer dress as a man dressing in drag and lip sync Dolly Parton songs for dollars, thank you very much.
Gay Man and myself are talking quietly, mostly discussing what these girls could have done in life that have landed them here. Catholic (Paul) goes between listening to us, and watching the girls climb the stripper pole. He is the first one to notice when one dancer uses the pole before cleaning it off from the previous dancer. He's somewhat of a germ freak.
The geeky looking dancer with glasses grabs Agnostic by his sweater and drags him back in to the VIP room, leaving us sitting there with his cell phone. Thanks a lot, asshole. The phone continues to ring, and we see it's from Agnostic's brother's girlfriend. She calls ten times. Apparently, she has found out about boyfriend's evening activities on the Plaza.
If Bruno were to draw a comic strip according to our experience, it would show me, Paul and the Gay Guy (who is a great friend of mine) sitting at a table, and we'd all be thinking different things.
Paul: I wish that one would come out and smack her ass again...but she needs to clean the stripper pole first.
GG: This confirms that I am totally all about the penis.
Me: White faux wood shades would look really good in my kitchen. I need to add that to my Lowe's list.
After fifteen minutes, Gay Man announces he likes penis and therefor he is going to go home, leaving Paul and myself sitting there, watching Agnostic's phone ring every five minutes. Various girls come out and do their little, ahem, dance. One thing I have noticed, is that not only am I the ONLY female patron in the establishment, I have the biggest boobs of EVERYONE there...including the dancers. Most of the dancers look like the women you see in National Geographic. It's kind of sad. Apparently, stripping doesn't make the kind of bank that can afford a boob job.
At one point, a dancer walks up to me and asks me if I want a dance. I politely tell her that I'm fine, and thank her for asking. Thirty minutes later, another dancer approaches me with the same question and gets the same response. I look over to Paul and observe that no one has offered a dance to him. Some guys just can't get a break.
Agnostic's phone continues to ring from the brother's girlfriend, and I am two seconds away from throwing the damn thing across the room when Agnostic emerges from the VIP room. Thankfully, this means we can leave.
Agnostic tells us that the Geeky Stripper is actually a sweetheart. What?!? He just spent over an hour in the VIP room, giving her money so she would dance and talk and Godonlyknows what else. If she were a sweetheart, she would have done it for free. His comment elicits the biggest eye roll from Yours Truly.
Finally, we leave. It's hard to say who was happier to go...me or Paul. Grilling him later, Paul confesses that strippers do nothing for him as you never know where these women have been before you came along. Besides, he's more a hands-on kind of guy...
I've never, ever going to EVER go to one of these places again. However, if any good can be extolled from it, I can always tell my daughter (if I have one), or even my niece that if you don't do your homework, you'll end up dancing in a strip club with boobs that look like they have been rolled over by a Zamboni.
Another good thing...I totally had to rewrite the opening segment in my book because I had the strip club sequence ALL WRONG.