Men, This is an invitation to strut your stuff for the women of the world. Come one and all and show us what you’ve got!
::kicks back and waits for this to go downhill quickly… more out of morbid curiosity than anything else:: 
Oh no, I shan’t be shaking or strutting any of “my” stuff. Trust me. You don’t want that. 
ehh… there’s a what now?
Go ahead! You might like it! 
I’ll be sitting here sipping my long island iced tea and counting my dollar bills while I wait.
[Johnny Bravo]
Hooha!
::strikes a pose::
Whoa, Momma!
::strikes another pose::
[/Johnny Bravo]
<walks out, wrapped in American flag, the stage is dark, but for a single spot-light>
<throws off flag, revealing that I’m dressed in a tux. Pyrotechnics erupt, streamers go off, and music starts blaring>
Booyah!
<steps to close to a firework>
POOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
<runs off stage on fire>
Hmmmm…guess I’ll try again later.
<shakes his stuff for a moment, then collapses on the floor>
Damn, that takes too much energy. I’ll just lie here on the floor like a slug drinking beer, thanks. I’d rather be appreciated for my mind, anyway (of course this is a huge lie). Any women out there find laziness attractive? If so, I’m your ma-
<nods off and drools all over the carpet>
Is this thing on? H…h…hullo.
Where do I stand? Over here?
WHAM!
Crap. Sorry about the table.
Wait. You want me to do what? Take what off? Madam, I’m shocked.
Nobody’s ever asked me to strut my stuff. I am somewhat strut impaired but here goes:
(cue music: “Lara’s Theme” from Dr. Zhivago)
I am playing air mandolin to this heartbreaking number, all concentratey and serious, the string section swells (IN THE MUSIC) and
SPROING!
I break an air string (two actually), don my wide wale cordoroy bathrobe with matching slippers, and flee for the relative safety of a nearby light truss where I will watch the remaining sets, trying to figure out how to get you and a thermos of long island ice teas back to the dressing room for some Boggle and maybe some prank phone calls.
Are you sure that was an “air string”?
Don’t go anywhere, I’m looking for my Boggle…
(Here on the truss, not going anywhere, wondering what else could possibly have made that noise <not eighteen anymore>)
But I brought Boggle with me! Big Boggle! 
.
[sup]…er…Hi!..[/sup]
::comes in, thinking this will be Miss B. Haven’s thoughts on sdmb men::
::realizes it isup to him to provide entertainment::
::Gets the hell out of there::
Slow day, Miss B.? Sorry, I’d offer, but I’m still recovering from little*bits’ bachlorette party. My liver can’t handle the amount of vodka it takes me to gear up for that.
Plus, I’m tired. I wish you luck, though. You’re about to hit 100 posts; I think you win something when you do.
Well, I’ve got this, um, here. Damn cortisone cream doesn’t seem to be working.
Yep! I was looking for some pure entertainment! It seems that the women on the board aren’t quite as shy as the guys are… I’m not giving up yet. I have refreshed my beverage and am patiently waiting for the next act.
What do I win? I did hit 100… too bad it was in the depression post. What does that say about my state of mind?!
Umm. It’s cold here up in the light trusses. Boggle?
Didn’t mean to leave you hanging! The alcohol must be going to my head… How’s the view up there? I still have a wad of bills to spend!
Unfortunately, the prize for 100 posts is ice weasel sex.
And really, with this holiday poundage, any shakin’ is going to unfortunately resemble a bowl full of jelly.
'sokay, I’m used to it. One of the stagehands just fired up a doob…
I got nothing. I’m the type that goes to a strip club, and the dancers trust me so much they show me pictures of their kids. What’s that about?