Keep your girls off the pole ..
(The first of probably several posts inspired by perhaps the single most perfect hour of television in the whole current lineup, Friday Night Lights. You should totally be watching it, and if you aren't, you are MISSING OUT and do not make me have to tell you twice.)
OK, so in the most recent episode of this show, Julie and Tyra have to stop by the strip club -- which Tyra calls "the palace of women's low self-esteem" -- where Tyra's older sister works (place is called the "Landing Strip," hee) so Tyra can collect some money sis owes her. They pop in through the back door (shut up) and Tyra goes about badgering sis for the money while the other strippers do their makeup and loll around waiting to go on. Julie's clearly uncomfortable but trying to be so kewl about it all, because Tyra is the slightly-dangerous older, cooler friend who has sort of taken Julie in, and Julie wants some of that badassery to rub off on her even though it scares her. So Julie's un-BF, Matt Saracen (they're on the outs at the moment), calls her cell for like the third time, and finally ignoring Tyra's advice to let his cheese hang in the wind awhile longer, she answers. He says he has to talk to her, so she relents and tells him he can meet her there (saying "the, um, the Landing Strip?" with as much dignity as she can muster). Long story short, he shows up, friend Landry in tow (or towing HIM, actually, because Matt has no car and Landry always has to drive him around). So Matt starts trying to talk to her about serious relationshippy stuff, and she stops him, saying, "Can we not talk about this here? It's kind of gross and depressing."
More stuff happens, awesome stuff because this show RULES, but "It's kind of gross and depressing" is what I'm talking about here. When she said that, I could totally smell that stripper dressing room -- smoke machine smoke, B.O., cigarettes, synthetic strawberry scent, unwashed flooring, hairspray and despair.
I've only been to a strip club featuring ladies one time (dragged there on a co-ed bachelor/bachelorette party), and that was Enough for me for a lifetime. Bad juju all around. Total embarrassment, sadness, inappropriate bug-eyed hilarity, the feeling that the upholstery of the chairs -- indeed, every surface -- was harboring organisms of a distinctly sordid nature. (You should see the grimace I'm wearing as I type this, and it was three and a half years ago.) The girls' bodies were pretty good, but not as good as I expected from this "upscale" joint, and their eyes were just ... dead. Ugh. Couldn't stand to look too long, honestly. And of course there was that smell.
I've also been to a strip club featuring the gents -- this one time, when I was 18, and a friend turning 18 wanted to go to one for her birthday. So we all loaded up in an SUV, with a bunch of wine coolers and the makins for whiskey sours, all of which we drank all the way to exurban Dallas (the club was called "La Bare," I think?) because the club wouldn't serve us alcohol. Everybody but me and one other girl piled out of the rig and into the club; we stayed behind to down a few more Bartles & Jaymeses, me because I was nervous and terribly ill-at-ease about the whole thing, and her ... I think just to keep me company (you'd think we'd've known better than to underage-drink in a parking lot, considering she and I were among a group that was arrested for same in another county not a year prior to this, but kids are stupid). Finally we went in, found our friends, and endured an hour or so of huge, beefy, hairless, oiled-up men gyrating in banana hammocks to the worst music of our time, at a deafening volume, while "the ladies" shrieked their heads off all around us. And of course there was that smell ... Birthday Girl was having The Best Time Ever, and everyone else seemed to be having fun, but me -- oh MAN. I was so embarrassed, so mortified, so squicked out by the whole thing -- it was the unsexiest night of my whole life.
OK, so in the most recent episode of this show, Julie and Tyra have to stop by the strip club -- which Tyra calls "the palace of women's low self-esteem" -- where Tyra's older sister works (place is called the "Landing Strip," hee) so Tyra can collect some money sis owes her. They pop in through the back door (shut up) and Tyra goes about badgering sis for the money while the other strippers do their makeup and loll around waiting to go on. Julie's clearly uncomfortable but trying to be so kewl about it all, because Tyra is the slightly-dangerous older, cooler friend who has sort of taken Julie in, and Julie wants some of that badassery to rub off on her even though it scares her. So Julie's un-BF, Matt Saracen (they're on the outs at the moment), calls her cell for like the third time, and finally ignoring Tyra's advice to let his cheese hang in the wind awhile longer, she answers. He says he has to talk to her, so she relents and tells him he can meet her there (saying "the, um, the Landing Strip?" with as much dignity as she can muster). Long story short, he shows up, friend Landry in tow (or towing HIM, actually, because Matt has no car and Landry always has to drive him around). So Matt starts trying to talk to her about serious relationshippy stuff, and she stops him, saying, "Can we not talk about this here? It's kind of gross and depressing."
More stuff happens, awesome stuff because this show RULES, but "It's kind of gross and depressing" is what I'm talking about here. When she said that, I could totally smell that stripper dressing room -- smoke machine smoke, B.O., cigarettes, synthetic strawberry scent, unwashed flooring, hairspray and despair.
I've only been to a strip club featuring ladies one time (dragged there on a co-ed bachelor/bachelorette party), and that was Enough for me for a lifetime. Bad juju all around. Total embarrassment, sadness, inappropriate bug-eyed hilarity, the feeling that the upholstery of the chairs -- indeed, every surface -- was harboring organisms of a distinctly sordid nature. (You should see the grimace I'm wearing as I type this, and it was three and a half years ago.) The girls' bodies were pretty good, but not as good as I expected from this "upscale" joint, and their eyes were just ... dead. Ugh. Couldn't stand to look too long, honestly. And of course there was that smell.
I've also been to a strip club featuring the gents -- this one time, when I was 18, and a friend turning 18 wanted to go to one for her birthday. So we all loaded up in an SUV, with a bunch of wine coolers and the makins for whiskey sours, all of which we drank all the way to exurban Dallas (the club was called "La Bare," I think?) because the club wouldn't serve us alcohol. Everybody but me and one other girl piled out of the rig and into the club; we stayed behind to down a few more Bartles & Jaymeses, me because I was nervous and terribly ill-at-ease about the whole thing, and her ... I think just to keep me company (you'd think we'd've known better than to underage-drink in a parking lot, considering she and I were among a group that was arrested for same in another county not a year prior to this, but kids are stupid). Finally we went in, found our friends, and endured an hour or so of huge, beefy, hairless, oiled-up men gyrating in banana hammocks to the worst music of our time, at a deafening volume, while "the ladies" shrieked their heads off all around us. And of course there was that smell ... Birthday Girl was having The Best Time Ever, and everyone else seemed to be having fun, but me -- oh MAN. I was so embarrassed, so mortified, so squicked out by the whole thing -- it was the unsexiest night of my whole life.
posted by Gleemonex at 4:10 PM
2 Comments:
I had the exact same La Bare experience. Grody. Cammodey. And I once went to an Adult Book Store with some drunk friends. I just looked at the floor the whole time because if I had met the eyes of any of the high truckers in there, I would have died on the spot.
If you are a man and watch this show, then it is a borderline 'man card' cutter. I have to admit, I am a sucker for these shows. My friends and I call it Friday Night Jailbait. I will say this, the acting is spot on. While put in outlandish situations, the actors seem to have a grip on their characters.
I hate the 'cripple kid' storyline. Go ahead and hurl stones, but it just gives me tired head. There is no way the head cheerleader at any Texas high school is going to stay with a dude in a wheelchair.
One more thing, high school shows should be held for comparison to the greatest show of all-all times....SAVED BY THE MOTHER FUCKING BELL! This show is good but cannot possibly have the staying power. Saracen is no Zach. Riggins is no Slater. Now Tyra (nice whorish name, sorry all you Tyra's out there in internets land.) is hot. And the cheerleader is hawt. But neither look as good as Kapowski or can act as good as Jessie. The Coach and wife are super cool, but nobody can hold a candle to Belding. That and there is no Screech!
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