Yes, the lunatic in the hot pink/zebra dress is me. And, yes, I am giving a lap dance to a complete stranger on stage in front of a restaurant full of people at a transvestite cabaret. As you can see in the progression of photos, I went from shy and afraid to wild and crazy in a matter of about ten seconds. What? I wanted to win the contest! (And I photoshopped a censor onto my leg in the third shot in case you’re wondering what the hell that is, haha.)
This past weekend, my girlfriends and I went out to Lucky Cheng’s to celebrate my 25th birthday. (I know, I know, I’m insanely old.) For those of you who are not familiar with this establishment, it is a restaurant/drag queen cabaret. Within five minutes of choosing between two drinks — the Pink Pussy and the Flaming Poon — we witnessed a lap dance that made even me blush.
Okay, first of all I am completely singing the Beach Boy song California Girls right now. Secondly, in regards to this photo, ladies, you’re welcome.
Okay, so this post is about the super-hot, blonde-hair, blue-eyed, tattooed, musician I met from Cali while I was in Vegas.
He laid next to me in a lounge chair at the pool, and I asked him if he knew anything at all about Vegas, because my cousin Diana and I were all alone and waiting for the other 10 members of our bachelorette party, who were stranded at the airport in our very own version of Home Alone Part 2.
When I go out on dates, I make sure to ‘wow’ the guy I’m out with by wearing a killer outfit. Sadly for me (and my lack-of-comfort), this means extremely tight clothes, a cut-off-circulation push-up bra, heels, and a thong. I’m usually okay for three or four hours but, after that, I get home, run in to my bedroom, and immediately change into comfortable clothing (pajama pants, Victoria’s Secret Pink sweatpants, etc.).
I always have an issue deciding when to whip out the bikini underwear and pajama pants in front of the guy. If he’s hanging out with me in my house then, chances are, we’ve already been seeing each other for a few weeks. Does that mean I can excuse myself and crack out my candy-cane cotton pj-pants that I got last year for Christmas? Or do I keep my jeggings/thong combo on? Continue reading
I have come to realize that my hatred of looking at myself in glasses is mine and mine alone. Every boyfriend I’ve ever had has done the “Oo, you look like a sexy librarian” or “Come here and teach me something.” I usually respond to both statements with a “Really, dude?” And not just because of the cheesy comments, but because of the sheer fact that I have always associated glasses with nerds.
And yet, guys seem to enjoy the “nerd” aspect of my glasses. I think it stems from the whole “Lady in the streets but a freak in the sheets” concept. Guys love a girl who looks innocent and sweet and is a wild woman behind closed doors.
I do tend to make a complete transformation when I go out of my house. The messy bun sitting atop my head becomes flowing curls, my pale, reddish face magically becomes a Mac ad, and my oversized pajamas are traded in for some skin-tight ensemble that I had most likely recently Continue reading