A venerable institution revisited
This past Thursday, I revisited something straight out of my past; a place I have forsaken for far too long. That place is TD’s East.
My arm was twisted by a co-worker of mine. He decided we should go see some titties and I concurred. We deliberated a while on what our chosen destination should be. I dismissed Curves because I had been there a couple of times recently and I still can’t really figure out its appeal. The chicks are all tatted up, and not in the good “goth/punk girl” way that I like but rather in the bad “I look like I am – or aspire to be – a convict” way. On top of that, all the girls have fake tits and anyone who truly knows me knows that I am as fond of fake tits as I am of being anally fisted.
We also considered the Candy Store, but dismissed that too because it’s, well… the Candy Store. That essentially left TD’s and Tens in the running and I went for the nostalgic pick. TD’s used to be a semi-regular stop of mine back in the day. That’s when Ben, Steve, Andrew and I used to go there on our lunch breaks for $1.50 burgers. And the boobs.
Unfortunately, the kitchen was closed when we got there. Fortunately, there were still naked chicks running around.
My co-worker has turned out to be a damn good strip club companion. He attacks the club with the same mentality I do: to have fun. There are two extremes when it comes to strip club patrons, and I’m sure most readers of this blog are veteran enough to recognize them. The first extreme is the too-serious guy who’s having fun but doesn’t want anyone to know it. The aura he thinks he’s projecting is, “I can get pussy anytime I want to so I’m going to looked bored and disinterested so everyone knows that.” By adopting the attitude of nonchalance, this dude thinks everyone knows he’s a pimp, but really the attitude he’s projecting is, “I’m an asshole.”
The second extreme is the “I’m waaay too into this” guy. He’s the guy that spends all of his paycheck at the club, falls in love with the dancers and thinks they’re talking to him because they like him, not because he’s stuffing twenties in her thong every ten minutes. He’s also the creepy guy that everyone has seen. Sitting alone. Middle aged or older. Wife probably hates his guts and he hates hers so sitting by himself in the club is the only thing he has left to live for.
I am not on either of those extremes. Neither is Dan. We go, we tip, we have fun but we don’t fall in love. Except with that one brunette that has a perfect body and talks to me because I’m interesting and good looking. Wait… fuck.
Anyway, there were some interesting subplots on this trip that made it particularly entertaining. The first: the retarded stripper. And I don’t mean retarded in the, “she’s dumb and dances to fill the hole in her soul because daddy never loved her” kind of retarded. Or even, “I’m just dancing to put myself through school and after that I’ve got a great, entrepreneurial plan that’ll make me tons of money with out me shedding my clothes and my dignity” kind of retarded. I’m talking full-on, brain damaged, Down Syndrome retarded. I was taken aback.
Yeah, I know I just pumped up TD’s and insulted some other clubs and here they are with a retarded stripper. The good news, however, is that she is kind of cute. She just sat there most of the time, not dancing for anyone. Then it would be her turn to go up on the main stage and no one really tipped her. I couldn’t understand why that was. As I mentioned she was cute. She wasn’t one of the knockout girls, but she had a cute face and body. She looked like she may have pushed out a kid or two and suffered a tad from the resulting orangutan titties but way worse girls were staying busy and getting paid. At one point, Dan got a dance from some chick and she pushed him against a wall so I was alone at the table. It just so happened that she was up on the main stage. I wandered over to give her a tip and she screamed in my ear, “I’m bored!” I tried to make a witty comment to make her feel a little better about things and she kept on talking. I thought, “something is off here” and that progressed in to full-on, “holy fucking shit, they hired a legitimate retard.” She didn’t do anything remotely sexy, she just kept the retard babble spilling out of her pie-hole. At one point she told me that someone had told her to envision the customers in their underwear. She followed the advice. “That wush FUNNY!” she bellowed.
I have to admit, I was intrigued. At a later point, she was wandering around, still not getting any dances, so she approached me. Out of equal parts pity and curiosity, I relented. Once again, she didn’t even try anything sexy and spent most of the time marveling at simple things like beer coasters or chatting up other dancers as they were passing by. Now I know why no one gives her any love.
The second subplot was the retarded patron. Actually he wasn’t retarded in the literal sense of the word like the stripper was. He was just too inebriated and acted like an idiot. Example: he liked the rock and roll music and there was a girl on the stage that was dancing to AC/DC. He stumbled over to the stage, dollar in hand, as just as the stripper was about to make her way to him and give him some attention, he bent over at the hips and stated head-banging. He was fat and had long hair so the situation was comical to say the least. In addition to the guy just making a complete ass of himself, the stripper just stood by with an honest to god, “what the fuck is this clown doing” look. After he was done head-banging, he handed her a dollar and disappeared. There was another time he went up to the stage and threw up the devil horns with his hands and head-banged again. On another occasion, Ratt came on and he stumbled back over to the stage, did some air guitar, head-banged some more and then sat back down again. I challenge you, dear reader, to guess his ethnicity/ancestry. I offer these clues: he was fat, drunk, had long hair and was a big fan of metal music. He wasn’t wearing a faded black Slayer shirt because that would have been too easy.
Having said that, I feel the need to explain something: there was one retarded stripper and one retarded patron (although he was, in his own way, very entertaining). Aside from that, everything was as smooth as silk. And a great time.
The remaining two subplots were just simple joys. Subplot three was the fact that a group wandered in celebrating a bachelor party. I noticed the bachelor looked familiar and finally placed it at the last moment: he was in some German classes with me. He wasn’t a younger dude like the rest of the students though. He was already middle aged, had a Hercule Poirot mustache and soul patch and always wore an Indiana Jones style hat. I couldn’t place him at first because he lost the hat but, sure as shit, there he was. He was having a good time though.
Subplot four was just an act of simple genius on Dan’s part. As it were, we were having a great time, getting dances and drinking and having a blast. There were two strippers that were leagues above the rest in my estimation. Both were thin, but not skinny. Both had the perfect tart and firm titties that were neither too big nor too small and completely natural. Both had great asses and pretty faces. Well, one of them was sitting in my lap at one point, waiting for the next song to give me a dance. We were chatting and she mentioned something about getting a dance from two girls at once. We laughed about it and left it at that. After a while, the next song started and the girl started removing her gear and I see Dan dart off to my left. Next thing I know, the other super hot dancer was taking her gear off and they were both rubbing tits and ass in my face. Dan tracked her down as she was going by and got her to dance for me too. It was something so simple, yet genius. I don’t know how I hadn’t considered it before, but for these two particular girls, I have a feeling that I’ll be doing that again soon.
I almost forgot about the text Dan sent me at one point. Here I was getting a dance from some girl when I notice Dan picking my phone up off the table and indicating to me that I had an incoming text message. I didn’t consider it urgent as I was occupied at the moment but Dan seemed pretty insistent on having me read the message. He opened up my phone and showed me the message. It was from him and it was about the girl that was dancing for me:
I think this text replaces Darren’s “Order me a beer and be quiet” text as my all time favorite. I attribute the color of her asshole to the blacklighting in the club. At least that’s what I hope.
My arm was twisted by a co-worker of mine. He decided we should go see some titties and I concurred. We deliberated a while on what our chosen destination should be. I dismissed Curves because I had been there a couple of times recently and I still can’t really figure out its appeal. The chicks are all tatted up, and not in the good “goth/punk girl” way that I like but rather in the bad “I look like I am – or aspire to be – a convict” way. On top of that, all the girls have fake tits and anyone who truly knows me knows that I am as fond of fake tits as I am of being anally fisted.
We also considered the Candy Store, but dismissed that too because it’s, well… the Candy Store. That essentially left TD’s and Tens in the running and I went for the nostalgic pick. TD’s used to be a semi-regular stop of mine back in the day. That’s when Ben, Steve, Andrew and I used to go there on our lunch breaks for $1.50 burgers. And the boobs.
Unfortunately, the kitchen was closed when we got there. Fortunately, there were still naked chicks running around.
My co-worker has turned out to be a damn good strip club companion. He attacks the club with the same mentality I do: to have fun. There are two extremes when it comes to strip club patrons, and I’m sure most readers of this blog are veteran enough to recognize them. The first extreme is the too-serious guy who’s having fun but doesn’t want anyone to know it. The aura he thinks he’s projecting is, “I can get pussy anytime I want to so I’m going to looked bored and disinterested so everyone knows that.” By adopting the attitude of nonchalance, this dude thinks everyone knows he’s a pimp, but really the attitude he’s projecting is, “I’m an asshole.”
The second extreme is the “I’m waaay too into this” guy. He’s the guy that spends all of his paycheck at the club, falls in love with the dancers and thinks they’re talking to him because they like him, not because he’s stuffing twenties in her thong every ten minutes. He’s also the creepy guy that everyone has seen. Sitting alone. Middle aged or older. Wife probably hates his guts and he hates hers so sitting by himself in the club is the only thing he has left to live for.
I am not on either of those extremes. Neither is Dan. We go, we tip, we have fun but we don’t fall in love. Except with that one brunette that has a perfect body and talks to me because I’m interesting and good looking. Wait… fuck.
Anyway, there were some interesting subplots on this trip that made it particularly entertaining. The first: the retarded stripper. And I don’t mean retarded in the, “she’s dumb and dances to fill the hole in her soul because daddy never loved her” kind of retarded. Or even, “I’m just dancing to put myself through school and after that I’ve got a great, entrepreneurial plan that’ll make me tons of money with out me shedding my clothes and my dignity” kind of retarded. I’m talking full-on, brain damaged, Down Syndrome retarded. I was taken aback.
Yeah, I know I just pumped up TD’s and insulted some other clubs and here they are with a retarded stripper. The good news, however, is that she is kind of cute. She just sat there most of the time, not dancing for anyone. Then it would be her turn to go up on the main stage and no one really tipped her. I couldn’t understand why that was. As I mentioned she was cute. She wasn’t one of the knockout girls, but she had a cute face and body. She looked like she may have pushed out a kid or two and suffered a tad from the resulting orangutan titties but way worse girls were staying busy and getting paid. At one point, Dan got a dance from some chick and she pushed him against a wall so I was alone at the table. It just so happened that she was up on the main stage. I wandered over to give her a tip and she screamed in my ear, “I’m bored!” I tried to make a witty comment to make her feel a little better about things and she kept on talking. I thought, “something is off here” and that progressed in to full-on, “holy fucking shit, they hired a legitimate retard.” She didn’t do anything remotely sexy, she just kept the retard babble spilling out of her pie-hole. At one point she told me that someone had told her to envision the customers in their underwear. She followed the advice. “That wush FUNNY!” she bellowed.
I have to admit, I was intrigued. At a later point, she was wandering around, still not getting any dances, so she approached me. Out of equal parts pity and curiosity, I relented. Once again, she didn’t even try anything sexy and spent most of the time marveling at simple things like beer coasters or chatting up other dancers as they were passing by. Now I know why no one gives her any love.
The second subplot was the retarded patron. Actually he wasn’t retarded in the literal sense of the word like the stripper was. He was just too inebriated and acted like an idiot. Example: he liked the rock and roll music and there was a girl on the stage that was dancing to AC/DC. He stumbled over to the stage, dollar in hand, as just as the stripper was about to make her way to him and give him some attention, he bent over at the hips and stated head-banging. He was fat and had long hair so the situation was comical to say the least. In addition to the guy just making a complete ass of himself, the stripper just stood by with an honest to god, “what the fuck is this clown doing” look. After he was done head-banging, he handed her a dollar and disappeared. There was another time he went up to the stage and threw up the devil horns with his hands and head-banged again. On another occasion, Ratt came on and he stumbled back over to the stage, did some air guitar, head-banged some more and then sat back down again. I challenge you, dear reader, to guess his ethnicity/ancestry. I offer these clues: he was fat, drunk, had long hair and was a big fan of metal music. He wasn’t wearing a faded black Slayer shirt because that would have been too easy.
Having said that, I feel the need to explain something: there was one retarded stripper and one retarded patron (although he was, in his own way, very entertaining). Aside from that, everything was as smooth as silk. And a great time.
The remaining two subplots were just simple joys. Subplot three was the fact that a group wandered in celebrating a bachelor party. I noticed the bachelor looked familiar and finally placed it at the last moment: he was in some German classes with me. He wasn’t a younger dude like the rest of the students though. He was already middle aged, had a Hercule Poirot mustache and soul patch and always wore an Indiana Jones style hat. I couldn’t place him at first because he lost the hat but, sure as shit, there he was. He was having a good time though.
Subplot four was just an act of simple genius on Dan’s part. As it were, we were having a great time, getting dances and drinking and having a blast. There were two strippers that were leagues above the rest in my estimation. Both were thin, but not skinny. Both had the perfect tart and firm titties that were neither too big nor too small and completely natural. Both had great asses and pretty faces. Well, one of them was sitting in my lap at one point, waiting for the next song to give me a dance. We were chatting and she mentioned something about getting a dance from two girls at once. We laughed about it and left it at that. After a while, the next song started and the girl started removing her gear and I see Dan dart off to my left. Next thing I know, the other super hot dancer was taking her gear off and they were both rubbing tits and ass in my face. Dan tracked her down as she was going by and got her to dance for me too. It was something so simple, yet genius. I don’t know how I hadn’t considered it before, but for these two particular girls, I have a feeling that I’ll be doing that again soon.
I almost forgot about the text Dan sent me at one point. Here I was getting a dance from some girl when I notice Dan picking my phone up off the table and indicating to me that I had an incoming text message. I didn’t consider it urgent as I was occupied at the moment but Dan seemed pretty insistent on having me read the message. He opened up my phone and showed me the message. It was from him and it was about the girl that was dancing for me:
I think this text replaces Darren’s “Order me a beer and be quiet” text as my all time favorite. I attribute the color of her asshole to the blacklighting in the club. At least that’s what I hope.
posted by Sivlitz at 1:31 AM
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