04 November 2011

Gooble Gooble Chug

As we approach the holidays, I was flashing back to Thanksgiving Eve a few years after I graduated from college and the few days leading up to it. I had recently started hanging out with this girl Brittney, I worked with her mom and her mom was trying to play friendship matchmaker – a bit of a damaged household it seemed but whatever, I was all about adding a friend to the circle – I am since older and some days wiser so I don’t always make such exceptions.

Brittney worked as an admin by day and as I would soon learn, a dancer of sorts by night. She had asked me to go shopping with her for work clothes and she wanted to get something new for that night which was the night before Thanksgiving since we had plans to go with a few other people to see our favorite cover band at the time. She and I headed down to a part of the city that had a lot of eclectic little shops and fun places for funky clothing, so I though that’s how she was looking to enhance her wardrobe, I was wrong. We walk up to a storefront that looked like it was someone’s house and nobody was home. There were heavy red velvet drapes that were down and it looked like no light was on inside. I asked Brittney what she was doing, were we picking up a friend of hers or something? A few minutes later, a guy opens the door and stands in the doorway without speaking. Brittney utters a word and we are granted permission through the doors behind the velvet curtains and I had NO idea what had just happened or what I was about to get myself in to.

I start to familiarize myself with the racks and shelves around me and asked Brittney for a little insider information. As it would happen, each strip club in the city has its own password and this is where you come to buy your ‘attire’ – but you need the password to get in and it changes as the staff changes at each local establishment. The place is run by a guy who likes guys as much as I do and his mother – mom is not the seamstress and damn does her son do good work. As my friend picked out some barely there’s to try on, I looked around at the vast array of thigh high boots, boobie tassels, edible undies – you name it, it was there and in every color, sequenced or not, glow in the dark and regular.

Brittney came out of the dressing room, I began to wonder what the point of a dressing room was when you’re trying on stripper clothes but maybe everyone gets a little mirror shy from time to time, especially if you didn’t have your respective lines or pills for dinner. She came out in a rather cute Thanksgiving themed ensemble and walked over to a box of shoes, found her size and mounted the practice pole. Having taken a few pole dancing classes for fun, I could tell you that what she was doing ranked high on the difficulty scale so I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t bringing home the cheddar but what did I know, I bought my work clothes from the mall where passwords are not required.

After Brittney dropped about $700.00 on a lunch bags worth of clothes, we were ready to go home and start the primping process for our night out. She had just started dating this guy I called Scott Stapp because he totally wanted to be the dude from Creed, WHY I have NO idea but there’s a Jack for every Jill (or a Jack for every Jack/Jill for every Jill, you get the idea ;-) and in this case there was a Scott Stapp for Brittney. She was all about him despite his litter of illegitimate kids and bouts of domestic violence; SHE was going to be the one to change him. Whatever…. I told her that he was not invited for our night out because I needed to get my swoon on for the bands singer and faux Stapp would just leave me emotionally flaccid and ruin my vodka with pineapple buzz.

We get to the bar and the band takes the stage, I am in my Tiger Beat teenage girl swoon and they start with the free shots of Jager since that was their official sponsor. Brittney starts to make her google eyes at one of the band guys and does her best to illustrate her off the clock skills on her beer bottle. He calls her up on stage and she starts to show him how she can shake him all night long, it was a little weird, I’m not gonna lie but I had my beverages to keep me going. She also starts chugging directly from their bottle of Jager. As the night moves on, her phone starts blowing up and it’s her man – I end up having to take her home to him since her throwing up on the stage did not bode well for us staying until the bands set was over.

I called Mr. Stapp from Brittney’s phone and told him to come get her and to bring some baby wipes, good thing for all those illegitimate kids he has because he had lots of wipes on hand – I mean he was a pretty big wipe himself but I’m sure you picked up on that by now. He carries her inside all across the threshold style and I drive off into the moonlight annoyed that my night ended like that but realized it could have been worse; I could have been the total embarrassment that got slizzered and puked on stage then when home to a fertile felon.

I didn’t talk to Brittney for a few days, I needed some detox. When I finally did talk to her, it was fine I mean we weren’t super tight or anything I just told her she can’t handle herself so we’ll keep our friendship to dinner or non stripper shopping, I mean I knew the secret password now so I didn’t need her anyway ;-)

Brittney and I ended up talking less and less just because I got busy with life and she ended up getting herself a touch of the pregnant somewhere between that Thanksgiving and Christmas. The few years that played out after she had her son were nothing short of a tragic after school special but I don’t let myself dwell on that. The cover band I followed also broke up not too long ago, but I will still have the t-shirt they threw me on my birthday and that’s good enough for me.

With Thanksgiving Eve just a few weeks away and a totally new clean slate of hot mess friends to go out with, I’m hoping this year leads to much happier less fertile/stripping type situations but you just never know with the way my life goes. Hey what are your plans for Thanksgiving Eve, maybe I need to be where you are!

Point of the Conversation: Be leery of places that require passwords, lest run the risk of being upside down on a pole puking up jager and pregnant 5 minutes later.

- Scarlett

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