Comments by BaddJack (page 7)

I leave my glasses off. I prefer my girls to be a little fuzzy.

I prefer it when my girl primes MY pump. OK. So I'm a guy.

I once went into Olympic Gardens after a great night in the casino. I went in with $1800 and came out with enough for a cab. I still wonder which one of the 17 girls I "danced" with picked my pocket.

Tiffany. Mercedes. Lexus. Candi. Misti. Mindi. Anything ending in an "i". Rumor. Cashmere. There. I named all the girls.

I represent the owner of three clubs. All of them suck, and he knows how I feel about them. Three clubs, average 10 girls at a club, over three years. That is what I asked him to look up for me. With ZERO turnover, that would mean 30 girls. He has employed almost 450. That means an average of "turning over" every girl 5 times a year. Average for him turns out to be more like 2-3 months.

I once fell asleep in a club in Topeka and woke up on an Amtrak bound for Denver. Whoops.

I live in the Target Poor Ozarks. Ever heard of the Bible Belt? Well, we are the buckle. There is a reason that the street name for meth is "417" (our area code) as the best U.S.-cooked meth comes from right here. All that means is that the escorts get run out of town, the strippers are losing teeth, and the line between "hot" and "not" is if the number of her natural teeth outnumbers her tatoos. This, my friends, is why I travel.

The ink is black. The page is white.

The first stripper I ever fell for was a crazy girl with bad ink in 1984. Her name was "Cricket" and I fell for her when she did a "rug dance" to "Purple Rain."

Let me get this right: if I fuck her in the ass, she gives me $300? Where do I sign?

Old guy goes into a confessional and tells the priest that he is 80 years old, just discovered Viagra, and has left his wife for his 22 year old secretary. The priest asked how long it had been since his last confession, and the guy says "I have never been to confession before. In fact, I'm Jewish!" The priest asks, "So come you're telling ME this??" The guy says: "I'm telling EVERYbody....."

I think she used to babysit the neighbor kids next door. I recognize the yelling.

Tan or no-tan is not a big deal to me. However, in the interest of full disclosure, I have a huge weakness for the old-fashioned tan lines. (of course, I also prefer some bush)

I am an old, ugly, fat guy. Prim0 must have read my playbook when I wasn't lookin'....

Prim0: please see my review of the Lucky Lady Cabaret.

Three things come to mind, and I couldn't decide which one to go with: I once went to a strip joint with a militant lesbian friend that got us thrown out when she was walking around behind the guys at the tip rail and smacking them on the head until they forked over better tips, all the while trying to drunkenly sing "She Works Hard for the Money..." Second, was the time a "feature" dancer came to town with the most enormous fake tits I ever saw. They were shaped like, but larger than, basketballs. It reminded me of the time I went into the Freak show at the fair to see the Two-headed Calf.... Third, I was watching a very fit young lady one afternoon and the bar was dead. She chose to use her second song as a work-out and started doing pushups. I flipped her some cash and demanded one-armed pushups, which she did until the end of the song. While she rested and perspired for the first 16 bars of the third song, I bet her 2 bucks for every one-handed PULL-up she could do from the bar across the top of the stage. She took me for $110 bucks. Damn.

Steve: Here in southwest Missouri, we also have the aroma known as "Meth mouth." Nothing will snap you to attention quite like stripper cologne and the smell of rotting teeth.

This is actually an ad for Miller Lite. "Tastes Great. Less Filling. Makes Blonds Horny."

Super hot in "Blade Runner." That was, of course, the 1980s. In a related note, Portland had a seriously rocking strip joint vibe in the 80s. Most clubs had a bar out front, and a jack joint in the back. Maybe she is reliving the past.

Steve, you are now, and always have been da' man. I forgot, until just now, how much I missed the old lyrics. Thanks, man

My second ex-wife never knew that I went to strip clubs. Long story short: bad marriage, quick divorce, she kissed me off and left town. Three years later, I went to a strip club in another city and guess who was tending bar? AND the door man and two of the dancers knew me by name. Whoops.

Am I the only one here that is a "missing teeth" and "homemade tattoo" man? You guys are to high class for me.

There is a sleazy club in Jane, Missouri where it is not about dancing, but about using the AirStream out back for (mostly) cum on face oral, and there is a girl there that looks EXACTLY like Mrs. greenvegas. I wouldn't kid you guys on this one....

I hope the marriage has a happy ending. Like Steve, I tend to be a hopeless romantic, and wish the couple only the best things in life. However, if it ends in disaster, I would like to offer my support to the girl. In my best Val-Kilmer-as-Doc-Holliday-in-"Tombstone"-voice: "I'll be her sugardaddy."

"You are pretty tiny down there," he confessed sadly