Scrabble Night Gone Wrong

"Girls are so much more fun to give lap dances to than guys are" was the general consensus among the strippers Friday night. Somehow, Scrabble night turned into going to a strip club night. Byron went to bed early.

The strip club is in Brewster, NY, in an office building.

OFFICE BUILDING. How do you go to work everyday knowing that just down the hall there are dancing nekkid ladies?

It met with a lot of opposition to become a strip club, but the owner was finally able to get it into being by calling it a "performing arts center". Seriously. That was the strangest thing about this place.

It had the aura of a freakish highschool dance; everyone sitting in their chairs feeling awkward around an empty dance floor. Even the lighting was similar to what a couple of Junior boys would rig up for the prom, and the DJ sounded like he was still IN highschool. One nerdy guy sat alone with a winter coat wrapped around himself. He looked petrified to be there, and would shake his head when any on the girls got near him. There were the asshole jocks, too, who refused a lap dance from the redhead stipper, saying they were waiting for "that brown sugar" and pointing to the black girl with fake tits and "boo-tay".

One stripper would later be referred to as "Grandma". She looked like an English teacher who drank too much and decided to take all her clothes off, adding to the "highschool dance gone wrong" feeling. She danced like a giraffe with a broken foot. The guys gave her tips to go away.

The redhead that the jocks rejected was friendly. I enjoyed talking to her, Butch thought she was annoying, Patrick thought she was sort of cute and the gentleman to my right, who I promised to refer to as "Hemingway" for this post, was like, "Should I be talking to you? I didn't realize you talked to people!" For the rest of the evening, she would put on a mock serious face near him and say "oh, this is the guy I can't talk to!" She asked for our names, and we gave them, but apparently this was too complicated for her, so she called the three guys "Amber" and me "Steve".

The "no touching" rule totally didn't apply here, however, Hemingway was pretty shy, so I took his hand and placed it on her boob, which I thought was really funny. The look on his face was priceless. She also engaged me in a conversation about frizzy hair and the best frizzy hair products.

While sitting on my lap.

With her pierced nipples on my forhead.

[sidenote: this is the part where I say to myself, "Why on earth do I let my mother read my blog?" This also goes for my best friend who is, believe it or not, a pastor's wife. How she's friends with me is anyone's guess, but she loves me.]

The last stripper was TINY, and Patrick, well, he wanted her, in that 'Man oh man I want this girl to be my girlfriend" kind of want... I can tell. It was his first time at a strip club, as it was Hemingway's, and gentlemen, I hope you enjoyed yourselves.