I'm enjoying the irony of watching the Duggars on TV while I describe how raunchy watching a male strip show in a casino located on the Nevada border is.
The whole ordeal...I've never seen anything like it in my life which is saying quite a lot as I'm as fresh as a newborn calf in the spring sunshine. Just like Ma Duggar. I'm going to imagine this retelling with Michelle sitting on one side of me shooting back syringes full of blue jello and vodka.
One of the gals managed to get our tickets comped and front center which is all the trouble you need right there. No ducking behind the middle aged ladies in front of you. No hiding in the back. No jumping up and down smack in the middle trying to get some attention paid to you. Front. Closest to this guy:
Which is extra special because he wore several different pair of snazzily decorated underpants that look like this:
To which he took the opportunity to flop around in some very intrusive ways with a whole lot of ladies, including introducing my face down front into the cave of wonders. This act cost me a dollar and some of my dignity. I cannot believe I'm even admitting this to everyone and sundry. Just call me Jezebel. Jezebel was not allowed to take any photos.
All the girls, me and imaginary Michelle Duggar, we got pounded, hounded, felt up, laid down, used and abused. Altogether they got six of my dollars and my fingerprints. As in, my fingers were placed far down the back of this guy's underoos:
Then the audience...that was a show in and of itself. I watched drunken ladies perform some sort of mating ritual where they cavorted and bounced on each other, acting like poodles in heat, completely ignoring anyone near naked and glistening on the stage. Clothes were ripped, buttons were lost, seats were wet and psychological tests were ordered. They do not teach this stuff at charm school.
Imaginary Michelle Duggar absolutely lost her shit.
When we left all we wanted were plates of deep fried food and pitchers of water. None of us had much to say. Hang your head in shame and walk toward the door.
...And dig your hand sanitizer out of your purse. Three squirts at least.
The Absent Minded Housewife is on Facebook. This is where I advise my readership in the naming of kittens. I think Tits McQueen is an excellent name for a cat.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
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