So, last night my bro and I went out and hit an area strip club. The place is a little different from most because if you buy a lap dance ($20) you are allowed to fondle the girl and may touch everything but the holy of holeys itself. The girls were friendly, hot, and not too overtly mercenary and we had a great time with them. Did I mention that the $10 cover includes all the beer you can drink?
What’s the problem, then, you ask? The place had two bouncers. These were tall young men in their 20’s. They were also two of the most morbidly obese, red-in-the-face and wheezing, waddlebutts I ever encountered in that role.
Goddammit, when I go out for a night of drunken debauchery, I expect the clubs to have bouncers who are actually capable of bouncing me if I should go entirely off the chain. These two fat fucks looked entirely capable of having a heart attack just lumbering across the room. Bounce me? Shit. They might pass the fuck out and fall on me. “Avalanche of sweaty flesh fu” as it were.
Their complete unsuitablity for the job was compounded by their preening, strutting, and making it a point to touch every girl as she finished a dance and left the stage. One wonders whether either of them was actually capable of having sexual congress with a woman, given that their phalli were lost under multiple folds of flab…no doubt with mildew in the creases.
Their presence didn’t entirely harsh our evening out, but bro and I agreed that those two shambling mounds of cholesterol did detract measurably from the desired strip club ambiance. What you want in a bouncer is a guy with the strength and skill to eject a rowdy drunk before he fucks up everybody’s evening. Ideally, he should do it with a minimum of fuss and injury to the drunk. He should also be a relatively unobtrusive presence until he is needed. Glowering muscleheads are no better than puffing fat-asses.
So a note to all strip club owners: no matter how much your cunt wife bitches and nags at you to give her grotesque nephews a job at your club, don’t do it.
It was unavoidable. They had their disgusting widebodies stationed at the ends of the stage; so if you took a table (as we did) you had one of the gnocci twins in your LOS at all times.
Sounds to me like some typical school yard action to me. If you were so disgusted maybe you should have made your move and put them to shame. Then you could have looked like a real hero. That’s the thing about strip clubs, everybodys little hormones just get all excited and frisky and shit.
They weren’t Samoan by any chance, were they? Because I’d rather be bounced by the front line of the Packers than tangle with even ONE of those big mothers.
Next time you go, pretend you’re in a harem with two eunuchs standing nearby. Perhaps your sensibilities won’t be so offended.
They had five of your basic mass-produced national brand beers on tap. Bro and I drank an assload of Coors Light. Not a favorite brew, by any means, but refreshing enough on a hot summer night.
That’s what I was thinking after reading the OP - Scum Pup was disappointed at a strip club that the bouncers weren’t hot enough? Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
It’s true. Without careful staffing, customers may not get the classy, sophisticated vibe they naturally expect when paying to grope strippers and drink cheap beer.
It was like a car accident that I could not look away from until this. Bless you, Giraffe… Thanks for the laugh.
To the OP: perhaps a word with the manager of the establishment would make your “concerns” known. Who knows? you may act as a catalyst for many a strip club.
