On a cold streak...

Perhaps it is because I grew up with Playboy magazine and 1980's heavy metal videos forming my personal ideal stripper aesthetic that I'm often disappointed with this place. The girl next door thing is big, I know, and if that's your thing then you'll likely enjoy this establishment. But for me, I am often struck by how thoroughly average the average Baby Dolls dancer is. There is an abundance of you wouldn't be surprised to see waitressing at the Olive Garden. A bit too much meat in the upper arms, a bit of a roll at the belly. Not the slightest suggestion that an exercise regimen is followed. Just a very standard, uninspiring American female body.

Not to go off on a rant here, but is it so absurd to have the baseline expectation that a woman making a living taking off her clothes should have something better than average beneath them? I'm a middle aged man who works in an office and I'm more physically fit than half of the dancers. And I can assure you, dear reader, that if my profession required semi-nudity, I would up my game considerably.

There was a time when Dallas had strippers that would make Motley Crue proud, but those days are behind us. Las Vegas seems to be the last refuge of the stripper who really takes pride in the product. When I first arrived in Dallas ten years ago, I caught the dying breath of it. I mourn the loss.