I thought I was a little worse off than just being hung over today, and that I shouldn’t have been so hung over for so little. I just took naps and lay around reading comic books. I figured out there was something else wrong when I started to lose my voice. What fun.

If my comments are any indications, there aren’t many men reading my blog. And besides the woman who tried to pick a fight with me at my local strip club, I don’t think many lesbitarians frequent strip clubs. At least not the ones I’m likely to frequent. And this is assuming that 10% of the three people who read my blog might be lesbitarian.

In any case, I went to the strip clubs tonight for a friend’s birthday, and I was sorely disappointed with the local “premium” club, Starz. First, there was a cover. There was an attendant in the men’s room. There were multiple stages and neon and flashy lights and a smoke machine. There was an annoying DJ/announcer who bothered people between songs. The dancers were all Barbie dolls with fake breasts and fake tans. And the patrons all seemed to be fraternity chumps. Let me give you an example of the chump behavior: in a strip club, if you sit at the “bar” next to the dance floor, you’re expected to tip the dancers. The minimum (which is what most people tip) is a dollar per dance. You lay the money on the table, and the dancer comes to get it after the song is over. I saw more than once guy at Starz throwing money at the dancers. Honestly, that’s just rude.

In any case, I think Starz is a Hollywood counterfeit of a real strip club. What I’m used to is seedier, dingier, and more than a little dirty. As are the dancers. The patrons are more outwardly pathetic. It’s much more fun when it seems a little dirty. Trust me.