OK, so here we go again...

OK, so here we go again for some afternoon mental diversions. A friend and I decided to try this place during mid afternoon last Wednesday. The drinks and beer were reasonably priced at $3 for a Coors. One thing I will say is that most strip clubs should only be open in the evening due to customer traffic and the assortment of dancers. This bird is no exception. On this particular afternoon there were four dancers working. They covered the spectrum in regards to age, attitude, and attractiveness. One, was about 40 years old, it wasn't the years but the miles that dulled the flower on this vine. Another, a young Brazilian that was sweet in attitude, firm in flesh, and mechanical in performance (ah, a shame in wasted natural assets). The third dancer was taller, about 5 9 or so, slender, and quite lovely. She had smaller natural breasts which were like two perfect mounds of mashed potatoes just waiting for the gravy. Her dances were rather methodical in nature with her attention keenly focused on the whereabouts of the fourth dancer which I'll get to shortly. The forth dancer was over 6 ft tall, and a larger woman, dancer, stripper, whatever. She had legs the size and shape of logs worthy only to a Paul Bunyan sort of character. Now IM a big fan of lap dances, love them, enjoy them, and indulge every chance I get. If I were to call a lap dance an amusement ride, one with this forth dancer would be similar to a freight train rolling down a steep mountain grade without brakes. Nice for some, not my cup of tea. Got to mention the barmaid, and I use the term maid loosely She was about mid to upper 50s and wearing a semi see-through blouse without a bra. This sort of brought back the semi traumatic memory of catching a glimpse of my grandmother getting out of the bathtub as a youngster. Ask me when IM 70 and this may be hot, but I have 20+ years to go so look for my opinion in the Jan 23, 2027 review. The best part is when the barmaid chastised a patron for stepping away from the bar after ordering a round of drinks. In her heavy and authoritative Russian or Polish accent she informed him of the policy and mentioned the hidden cameras watching her and the patron’s activities. Now I know I act out of character and somewhat sophomoric in strip clubs, its part of what I enjoy and pay a premium for. The last thing I want is for my actions to be captured in a Kodak moment. All in all this place is like a roadside microwave cheeseburger. Yes, it fills the void, but comes up short in terms of satisfying the pallet.