Huffy Flounce

Stop. Please. I'm getting turned on.

I'm still not sure where I picked them up. It was either from walking around shoeless in the Panamanian jungle (my shoes mildewed on the first day and pretty much rotted off my feet; wearing them on the flight back was olfactorily unpleasant and a prolonged, three-flight-long embarrassment), sleeping on the wooden floor of a doorless, octagonal hovel (also in the jungle), or being sat on by a Panamanian stripper.

It was my first trip to a strip club. I didn't want to go to the strip club, and I didn't ask to be sat on by a stripper. It was, on the whole, a pretty unpleasant night.

In American strip clubs, you pretty much have to pay strippers to touch you, right? Stupid freewheelin' Panamanian strip clubs. Stupid Panama.

Stupid scabies.

How the fuck did you catch that?

I'm still not sure where I picked them up. It was either from walking around shoeless in the Panamanian jungle (my shoes mildewed on the first day and pretty much rotted off my feet; wearing them on the flight back was olfactorily unpleasant and a prolonged, three-flight-long embarrassment), sleeping on the wooden floor of a doorless, octagonal hovel (also in the jungle), or being sat on by a Panamanian stripper.

I probably sailed past your old digs. Big ex-US fort in the Canal Zone?

Those were my father's old digs. His to-this-day-unfinished house--affectionately named "The Octagon"--was where I stayed for the first leg of my time in Panama. It was in a remote bit of jungle about half a click inland from the Caribbean Sea. It was a twenty-minute motorboat trip from Bocas del Toro, some five-ten miles from the nearest road and farther still from the nearest town.

The Octagon was built on the highest hill on my father's property. He wanted it situated on the most defensible spot. He was a paranoid man.

He didn't wind up murdered by Panamanian pirates, though I suspect he would have liked that. He wound up murdered by cancer of the brain.

I've been sat on, groped, and just generally manhandled by strippers of all races and creeds. Never caught nothin'.

I couldn't imagine myself going to strip clubs often enough to say that. My father's friends (one of whom was his age, and one of whom is younger than I am) wanted to go. My father was pretty indifferent. We ended up going to two. The first was was rundown and sad. The second one was clearly more upscale, but the clientele was rich and generally off-putting. The stripping at both places was dull, and it further limited the already limited time I got to spend with my father.

You're not missing much. I can say that now.

I think I might enjoy going to a club where males strip. Somehow, that seems like it would be more fun.

Take the wife! Make it a date!

I make it an expressed condition that any girlfriend of mine should be at least willing to go to a strip club with me once in awhile.

I don't date much...

Can Jubboiter go, too? Otherwise, it's unlikely to happen.

Are there any strip clubs out there that don't make you pay a cover charge? Seems silly to pay to see body parts. It didn't seem silly to me when I was a sex-starved preteen with no Internet, but that was more than two decades ago.

I really struggle to find anything as un-erotic as a lap dancing bar. It's like a really seedy version of being made to go to a cake shop when you're diabetic.

The Swollen Goiter of God wrote:Can Jubboiter go, too? Otherwise, it's unlikely to happen.

Are there any strip clubs out there that don't make you pay a cover charge? Seems silly to pay to see body parts. It didn't seem silly to me when I was a sex-starved preteen with no Internet, but that was more than two decades ago.

Depends how awesome those body parts are. Anyhoo, no sillier than any number of things North American Capitalism charges you for nowadays. Seedier, yes, I grant you, which is why I tend to steer clear these days.

Cover charge, depends. Weeknights, maybe not, weekends, definitely. The Peeler industry is in decline up here, for a number of reasons. End of an era.

Dalty wrote:I really struggle to find anything as un-erotic as a lap dancing bar. It's like a really seedy version of being made to go to a cake shop when you're diabetic.

The seediness was what attracted to me and my "friends" (I use that term loosely) to it, at an earlier time in my life. Frankly, I find most pr0n unerotic. A strip club, at it's best, sells a fantasy of sex and sensuality that pr0n makers fail to grasp. At it's worst... not so much.

My mate dated a stripper for a while. I think she out earned all of us.

I dated a stripper for a few weeks back in 2004. She was from Texas.

I ejaculated in a strippers face for about 7 seconds once.

Nah, I made that one up.

The stripper I dated was pretty shy. Apparently, the only time she wasn't shy was when she was stripping. I never saw her strip. She was no longer a stripper by the time I met her, so it may be misleading of me to call her a stripper. She was definitely an ex-stripper, though.

Was she a day stripper?

It took me so long to find out.

Adams thread has been horribly, horrifically thread-jacked.

Have you *seen* some of the girls in the Fast & Furious movies? There's an incredibly thin line between them and strippers.

So they allow women to drive then... very progressive.

Fast and Furious: Riyadh Drift would be a very different movie.