Grim News

So as my loyals may already know recently the Pixie and I were in the Land o’ Sin, New Orleans. While staggering down Bourbon Street the idea came to us to stop at what was claiming to be a Burlesque show. So far so good, five bucks at the door tells us that they’ll make it up at with the drinks. No worries, we’ve just eaten so bring on the eleven dollar Hurricanes and nine dollar beers. Just one drink for appearances nothing more. Just don’t forget the tip, but I digress.

Ready to see a real Burlesque show we wait patiently as the DJ tries to sort out who’s on stage. After fifteen minutes or so a woman in a bikini and clear three inch heels. Okay, no Burlesque show, just a strip club, we can deal with this. Or, so we thought. Four or so dancers in Pixie is leaning over punching my arm, to make sure I’m awake. Yes, it’s true my droogs your Sultan of Sexy had knocked off somewhere between a titty shake and a thong roll.

Has it come to this? Watching all but naked women gyrating on stage, badly, was just not cutting it. There was no arousal. Maybe some mild amusement as we watched “Bros” try to get a stripper to snatch the fiver from their mouth with something other than a hand. It was all stripper dance number 7, nothing new nothing interesting. Could they at least have the decency to pull a string of beads from some unseen crevasse? That may just be me, but please don’t do the same lame walk and shake as the last girl. I realize asking for creativity may be asking a lot but at least some variation.

So my lovely loyals I bring the question to you. Can you become so desensitized to the vanilla that it’s painfully boring? Better yet, if you have a story out there let’s hear it. Post it in the comments section along with a way to contact you and you may win 2 free rentals at the nearest Blockbuster.