FITY FOR A TEABAG!

This is a tale of male strippers, and it comes with a warning... If you dislike talk of penis, teabagging, and/or strippers, this blog is sure to offend you.

One fine night in Montreal, me and a few friends decided it would be funny to check out the male strippers in the local gay village. Now, I’ve seen male “dancers” before - you know - the ones that appear at the “ladies nights” and all they do is dance seductively, take off their shirts, and then rub their “pecks” down with some oil? These "dancers" never actually get naked, they just prance around in their tighty whities and make all the girls crazy. The point is they aren’t actually strippers. The strippers in Montreal actually get naked…and I mean, balls out naked.

The second we stepped into the bar we knew we’d entered an alternate universe where the men were now the objectified lifeless crack addicted whores, and the women were psycho sex fiends.

We sat at the back and took it all in. Before I went, I was told by a number of people who’d previously gone that all the strippers were actually really hot, but I have to say that I disagree. This is probably because I don’t find really built douche bags to be particularly good looking. Actually, I find them fairly unattractive. I can guarantee if I’d seen any of those men randomly walking down the street, I wouldn’t look twice... Or, I’d look twice, laugh, and think, “Shit, another idiot with a popped collar and a faux hawk.”

Anywho! Then they got naked! The part everyone has been waiting for! I have to tell you, I saw far too much flaccid penis for one lifetime. Some of the men just couldn’t get it up, and then danced around while their penis just hung limp, like a sad, sad puppy. I felt kind of sorry for those flaccid men...I’m not really sure why. Now, it’s not that I’m against the penis, but really, men shouldn’t be leaping around and dancing with no clothes on...it’s simply just not attractive.

There were the guys though that could get theirs up, and they got all the ladies. And these ladies were friggen lunatics! They’d put their 20-dollar bill in their mouth and lie down on the stage and let the gross naked stripper rub his balls all over her face. One stripper even took this chick, flipped her upside down, and stuck her face in his junk, presumably tea-bagging her. She probably had a fity in her mouth.

It was all very, very disturbing. And not to mention, the strippers looked like zombies on far to much cocaine. The way they danced was in no way attractive, and they were clearly dead inside, like most strippers I guess. I kind of wanted to put their clothes back on them, take them for a nice warm coffee, and tell them that they are better than this, and that someone, someday, somewhere, will love them.

There was this moment during the night where I had to go to the washroom. It was horrifying. I was holding my purse firmly with two hands, much like an old woman would when walking through a heard of fifteen year olds. On my way to the washroom, because I was concentrating more on hugging my bag then looking forward, I ran right into one of the strippers. Like, my forehead rammed into his enormous pecks, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He proceeded to give me this creepy look and then rubbed my back…I quickly lowered my head, let out a yelp and ran towards the washroom. On my quest to find the washroom I stumbled across the “secret rooms” where the women get their private dances from the strippers. That, or they just go into the room and pay 15 bucks to get tea-bagged. I’m going to conclude that’s what actually goes on.

To finish the night we ate some poutine. Mine had hot dogs in it. I’m only now realizing how gross that might appear...on all levels.

So, in closing, I’ve decided to use a timeless, tired, and overused cliché to create a new slogan for the male strip club:

Cover: 5 dollars
Cost of a single beer: $6.50
Seeing lunatic women get teabagged by male strippers: priceless