Had better, had worse...

An eight dollar cover on a late Thursday night isn't too bad, so I thought my dollars would stretch a bit further than they would on a busy weekend.

Nope. I dropped $5.75 for a watered-down Coke.

I had to sit and think about that. $5.75 for a fucking Coke. And even that was watered down! Glad I didn't ask for a Long Island iced tea or something. But six bucks poorer and that much wiser, I turned my attention to the dancer on the stage. She was tattooed so heavily she looked like a Dead Sea scroll and so flat-chested that if she laid back I'd have thought she was one! But hey, some folks go for that and she was getting naked for money, so that's a plus, I suppose. Looking around, the selection of dancers seemed about average, but not strip-club average: Walmart average. These were the kinds of girls you'd see walking around a mall or WallyWorld, ranging from bone-thin to moderately plush, and that's sort of a bonus. While you might want to see exotic, toned supermodels stripping, there's something to be said for seeing normal women naked. The added allure of seeing someone strip and in the back of your mind you think, "In the real world, I might actually have had a chance with her."