July 1: The Weirdest Week of my Life

Remember Cinnmon the Stripper? Little did I know that was the start of the Weirdest Week of my Life.

That Wednesday I went out to Bar here in FL. There are literally three huge, red, light up letters that spell out 'B-A-R'. You know, just in case people get confused. Anyway me and a couple friends are kicking back, singing karaoke, drinking some giggle juice and just hanging out. Well, this chick, that looked and smelled like she had been drinking since at least the day before, came over and sat down next to me..

"Cann I, liikee, borrewr, yeerrr shirtt sumtime?.." She slurred

"Um...no," I tried to ignore her, unsuccesfully.

"Well, Will and GRACE shhsare thiinngsss alll the ttiiimmee!"

"Hmm...first of all they know each other and I have no idea who you are. Second of all, that is a fictional TV show."

I thought that I had lost her, but she did the unthinkable. She rushed me and tried to KISS me!! Ok what is it with these girls? Shoving my head into boobs, and now rape kissing? Seriously is there a sign on my back that says "Mess with this guy, he LOVES IT!"? Anyway, I turn away and dodge the kiss, but then she gets all offended:

"Will AND GRACE KISS alll the TIMEEE!"

I lose it, "BITCH, that's FICTION! I am SO done with you!" And with that I snapped my fingers in the direction of the bar and dismissed her.

She looked too stunned to do anything else, so she got up (after a couple of tries) and stumbled to the bar where she picked a fight with the wrong guy and got a hearty body slam. (I seriously think she didn't even know she was face down on the bar floor until someone helped her up. Hilarious)

Cut to Friday at Uncle E's, which was Simone's last drag show. Cut to me bawling my eyes out during her last number into Jonothan Courtemanche's shirt. Cut to me drying my eyes, drinking more, and tearing up the dance floor with this incredibly sexy guy. Cut to me and Mr. Sexy putting on a show in the parking lot by his car. Basically a pretty normal night.

Saturday was pretty much the same. I went back to E's with Simone, and danced with Mr. Sexy again. Now, I'm not sure what I did or how I did it, maybe it was me thinking I was invincible or it was the booty poppin', but I THREW MY BACK OUT! For the next two days I was walking around work and everywhere else bent over, with my hand on my lower back, groaning like an old person! So I vowed never to dance like that again. Well....

Tuesday night I was back in Bloomington (feeling better) going over to the Gays House (This incredible, hilarious couple that invited us to dinner that night) with Simone, had an amazing, beyond amazing dinner, and went back to where? Oh, yeah, my bad habit: Uncle E's. It was stripper night that night though, so they had the wonderful stripper pole in the middle of the dance floor.

Well, my back was feeling better but I wanted to be cautious. So after extensive stretching, and about 5 Bacardi and cokes, I was ready to dance. On Mr. Sexy's arm (he showed up just in time), we danced the night away showing everyone up. But, it was the pole that got me in the end. I decided I was going to jump on the pole and lift myself upside down, and spin around just like the strippers do. How hard could it be? Well, let me tell you, those damn strippers make it seem so fucking easy. I jumped on the pole, flopped upside down, slid down and hit my head on the platform. It was humiliating but I got up, dusted myself off and just started swinging around the pole (with feet on the ground). This stripper guy saw me and started dancing on the pole with me. He got up behind me and said roughly in my ear,

"I'm gonna put your puny ass on my shoulders."

And before I could say, 'Huh?' I was airborne. He sure did put me on his shoulders like I was a rag doll, holding on to the pole with one hand for dear life, and dodging the lights hanging from the low lying ceiling as we went around. There we were, stacked two men high, swinging around the pole like Cirque Du So-GAY. So...that was fun. Then me and Mr. Sexy did our usual parking lot routine, I went home to a hysterical Simone (long story involving a virgin and a bong) and we did steak and shake. I thought I had escaped the night injury free, but then I woke up to find that I couldn't lift my work tote because my arm muscles were excruciatingly sore (from trying to lift my fat ass on the fucking strip pole).

I've learned two things: one to stay away from strippers. That seems clear. And two, that I'm not as young as I used to be and I need to chill out. On the bright side though, I could now just wear a shirt to the bars that says, "Take me home, I've been stretching."