This Post Would Probably Get an R Rating So Proceed With Caution

I want to tell you about one of my weekend adventures, but first, I have to warn off the conservative folk because this is going to be some R-rated talk right here. I mean, send the children out of the room, okay? 

On Friday evening, I went with a few friends on a Girl's Night Out birthday celebration road trip that ended in a skanky, smelly bar with male strippers.

For the bargain price of $40 (or the reduced rate of $20 later in the evening), you had the chance to unstick your feet from the floor, walk on stage, and have one of five sweaty, oily men from Ecuador feel you up, contort you into various positions and then perform a simulated sex act on you.

I won’t go into any more detail here except to say that various folding chairs, leather belts in places belts usually aren’t, whipped cream, and bottles of oil - which the men occasionally held on their crotches and squirted at the small audience when they weren’t dribbling it on themselves - were involved and that a few of the women (none in our group) who readily and repeatedly paid the $40, were probably sore the next day. 

Color me naive, but I was not expecting to see savage, slimy, naked men writhing and gyrating their way around a small bar and…well…never mind. What happened in that bar needs to stay in that bar.

Based on the picture outside, I thought we’d be seeing more of a Magic Mike dancing/entertainment show. Now, I must bleach my eyeballs and brain and may need penicillin as a precautionary measure just for being in the vicinity.

Seriously, though, it was a fun night of self-care (okay, the self-care part might be a stretch) with a whole lot of OMG!!-ing. I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard.