all male revue for Deer Widow's Weekend. It was raunchy. My eye still twitches from time to time.
I thought the mistake I'd made in deciding to attend such filth was to participate sober but it turns out that it was a far worse faux pas telling my mother about the whole thing.
See, I was seeking forgiveness for my sins. The shame...the greasy greasy shame! And she offered none. Instead of easing my suffering, or chiding me like she would have when I was a sophomore menstruator, she declared that she wanted to go next time. She wants me to find out if there is an AARP discount on the tickets. She wants me to chaperon her and her similarly aged and bouffant hairdo-ed cousin while they heat up their folding chairs and dollar bills in the front row.
She wants to par-tay.
The thought of this has me cycling between dry heaves and catatonia.
This is the woman that didn't talk to me about sex. The most I got out of my parents, other than advising me that I shouldn't date one boy too much or lots of boys too often, or that I should always stay vertical and dressed, was hearing their mattress squeaking in the middle of the night through our shared wall.
This is the woman who declared, "Tube steak is delicious!" during a family dinner of chili-dogs without the slightest hint that the term did not refer to mild pork sausages.
This is the woman who asked me if I'd ever participated in a certain common sexual act brought up on talk radio and when I admitted I had, she said, "That's nasty!"
This is the woman who used to shout, "What's your bra size again?" across the Kmart lingerie department in an effort to find me the least sexy most pristine white bra on the rack.
My mother should not want to attend a male strip show. No one's mother should. I'm a mother and this is only common sense.
Just to make sure she got a clear picture when she brought up the idea again just recently, I warned her that whether you like it or not, male strippers will be violating your personal space. About how this oily male person flipped me over on a chair and simulated himself on me and another oily male person placed my hands back down in his Garanimals and another one put his hands on either side of my head and proceeded to invite me to a family dinner.
I get it now.
God, I am so screwed.
Monday, October 08, 2012
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