Just called the blonde to tell her the lap dance’s finished and I’m on my way home. She scoffed.
She wasn’t scoffing at my claiming to be on my way home. She was scoffing at the notion I’m at a strip club.
I’ve had to deal with this all my adult life.
No one has ever believed I would go to a strip club.
Sigh.
On my way home from Barnes & Noble.
I can vouch that you're not missing anything. Though I do note for the record that, if it's still there, Billy's on 24th Street always had talented dancers. (It does not, I believe, count as a "strip club.")
Posted by: Ken Houghton | Saturday, May 04, 2013 at 01:58 PM
I believe you would go to a strip club, Lance. Of course, I imagine you discussing a feminist analysis of sexual politics with the dancers, or perhaps you would engage them in an earnest conversation on the art of the pole dance. Bless your heart.
Posted by: Rebecca Clayton | Sunday, May 05, 2013 at 09:00 AM
I could tell you stories...
Posted by: Chris the cop | Monday, May 06, 2013 at 05:55 PM
Thanks, Rebecca. I think. :)
Chris, and you have. Great ones.
Ken, 24th Street, you say?
Posted by: Lance Mannion | Wednesday, May 08, 2013 at 07:31 AM