I would have cursed people out too!
I am still grossed out by last night's Real Housewives of Atlanta. So, Phaedra gave Kandi a real stank gift for her 35th birthday. It was a stripper than can auto-fellate (lol...is that the word?).
Now, I made the mistake of googling him a few weeks ago. I am simply appalled by what I saw. But see that's different. At home, I can shut my browser, but there is no red x in real life.
Anyhoo, the stripper demonstrated all of his skillz. In mixed company. In real life. The horror.
Picture it...The year was 2000. I attended a bachelorette party for a dear friend. Actually, I was part of the planning process. I knew that the stripper was going to be a part of it. I wasn't cool with it, but I went along with the group. If they jumped off the MLK bridge, then....
So, the stripper came in. Rewind...He was a friend (a former f.b. to be exact) of one of my friends. I guess if you choose a stripper he would be the one to get. He was attractive and his body was CUT! He was a little greasy in day-to-day life. I just figured that it was residual oil from his second job. *shade*
He came in. Shaking his thangs. Folks made it sprinkle like a partly cloudy day. That further cemented that it is hard out there for a stripper. Then there was the moment of audience participation....Honey, those heffas acted like he was the last man on the face of this earth! I'm talking about putting his piece in folks hands O__O and worse...cleavage. He. put. the. bride's. mother. on. his. lap. and. grinded. on. her. She was cool with it. She rewarded him with TWO whole DOLLAS.
I can sense trouble. So, I got my drink (judging from last night's episode that was a smart move) and went to the back of the room. Way back. All I saw was a bunch of women (in committed relationships) act a damn fool over a half naked man...shaking his groove thang.
The stripper was the only person to notice my absence. He thought it was funny. But he still had something for me. After the show, he. humped. me. and then licked my face.
So, yeah. I don't blame Ms. Joyce (affectionately known as The Heat Miser).
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