Penthouse

I just got home from a strip club.

Yes, the kind with naked girls. Well, girls in thongs....g-strings, whatever the popular vernacular. I'm listening to Steve Miller Band's The Joker on my computer as I type this post. I'm kinda in love with this jam. Late in the game, but that applies to my first time at a strip club too.

So, Ram got Tommy, Reba, and I to head over to W. 45th by the West Side Highway into the Penthouse Executive Club. Quality entertainment! We managed to skip the $30 cover for $21 crab cakes and $19 Jack on the Rocks in my case. Ram bought me a lap dance and he bought Reba multiple lap dances. Good times abounded.

I ended up talking to my girl which really kept her from shaking her tits in my face. I was curious where she got her shoes, whether her boobs were fake, and if she had a life outside stripping (she didn't). She's from Philly. Her fake name was Vanna--yeah, I picked the one black girl in the whole joint cuz her fake tits were the biggest available for $20.

Reba's girls, Hayden, originally from Seattle or so she told Tommy, did a much better job but Reba also was more interested in touching her real breasts than inquiring where she got those plastic, 5-inch heels I wanted to try on. While I may be a good therapist someday I'm an absolute disaster at the strip club. Sorry, Ram.

This Friday night took an especially unexpected turn from free beer at Slane thanks to Meet Now Live, $5 cosmos at 99 Below, and pool/darts with some B&T boys at Pinch to Penthouse with Tommy and Ram.

God, I will miss NYC when I eventually get to Denver!