(This post is dedicated to my good friend and confidant Nikki... one day lady, one day!)
Have you ever been romantically conversing with a man whom you thought was magnificent? Your face illuminated when his number appeared on your phone, your eyes sparkled whenever he entered the room, and Heaven never existed when his attention was utterly on you? But then (of course) one ill fated day, he just disappears? He ceases to answer your messages, becomes devoid of communication, and all the while you analyze every fiber and detail of what possibly went arye. He has fallen off the face of the earth.
My friend Nikki and I have grown accustom to using this pharse:
"I don't understand. We talked everyday on the phone, we had a great night last weekend, he asked what I was doing tonight, then BOOM! He falls off the face of the earth."
"He keeps telling me how attracted he is to me, he wants to get together, he makes plans with me, then BOOM! He falls off the face of the earth."
In fact, we have become so familiar with this infamous disappearing act we no longer use words; just a simple lean back body gesture with arms and legs flailing wildly in the air. It seems one by one our close friends are rooting some great catches on the male front, none of which have fallen. Why us?
This "falling off the earth" business just proves most men's immaturity and incapability to respect a woman by gracefully declining her informal invitations to get together. Many feel ignorance to the situation produces the best solution. True or False: All of those rejectful words will go unsaid and save a heart from breaking if we choose the path of ignorace. FALSE! Actually gentlemen, our feelings become fatally damaged with no response. We find ourselves stranded in pugatory wondering what the hell happened to you. The healing process prolongs itself as our brains work towards figuring out why you drifted. Just tell us point blank you no longer wish to see us. Sure, we will be crushed at first, but a day later we will be continuing the man hunt with no recollection of your name.
Unfortunately "falling off the earth" commenced an extremely long time ago, when the earth was actually preceived to be a hazard. Back in the early 1400's sea captains and explorers would tell their beloveds, "I'm shipping out to sea darling, and if you no longer receive word from me, it is because the earth is flat and I have fallen off." These simple women, with no disproof to this theory, ate these lies up. And when their husbands, fiances, or boyfriends never contacted, they tearfully told everyone in town "I haven't heard word from him in months. He must have fallen off the earth." Truth be told, these smart gents probably set up camp on some tropical island with beautiful, foreign locals taking care of their sexual fantasies and needs. Of course one man ruined the mind set for many women by falsifying the earth's flatness. Christopher Colombus showed women around the world that their men were not physically falling off the earth; they simply could not convey, "I don't want to see you anymore."
Well centuries later we know Colombus' theory to be accurate, yet men are still finding ways to fall off the earth leaving thousands of women in unnecessary mourning. Just step up. We will respect you more and be less broken hearted if you simply TELL THE TRUTH! Tell us you no longer wish to see us, tell us what you felt before is gone. We may hate you in the beginning. We may bash you to all of our girlfriends over Friday night cocktails. But honey trust me... come Saturday night... we will have thrown you off the face of our earth!
January 9, 2011
January 6, 2011
Vegas Tested, Stripper Approved
Las Vegas, the City of Sin. A place where the hungover come out of their darkened hotel rooms mid day to trudge around the city, only to party later like the apocalypse is near. I had never been to Vegas before, just lived vicariously through the stories and folklore of people I knew. With the new year approaching my favorite travel companion and best friend, Nikki, decided we should spend this alcohol induced holiday in the City of Sin. Before long our trip was booked, our bags were packed, and we headed over to the west coast in search of this mythical party town.
Now, what you should know is that when Nikki and I travel together, there is honestly no telling what will happen. Random outbursts in the streets are the norm as we reflect upon the previous night's escapades, promoters constantly harass us as if we were celebrities, we dine at 5 star restaurants with former baseball players for free, and all the little nuances of our trip are recorded in full via camcorder for the world to enjoy. I could truly write a novella based upon the wild adventures of Nikki and myself (or as our aliases have come to be, Claire and Sofia). But attention must be drawn to one particular incident, the night Nikki and I posed for a picture with the stars of a famous male revue.
The Thunder from Down Under, Las Vegas's hottest male revue, luckily was on of the attractions at our hotel, Excalibur. I have watched many talk shows interview the various "performers" and witnessed women travel far and wide just to catch a glimpse of Australia's finest export. To call this show a male revue proves utterly wrong. Classy, well mannered (well to some degree) men dance, sing, and tastefully strip for the delight of women! A must on our Vegas itinerary, we found ourselves one Saturday night at the Thunder Showroom.
Immediately we took our seats while a guided video tour exhibited the various performers posing throughout the Australian outback. Suddenly, the screen drew up as a darkened staged produced swirls of white smoke . Music started blasting and a strobe light hit the stage as one by one men with bodies like the David and faces like Adonis strutted their stuff for all of us screaming banshees in the audience. Each did their own themed strip tease (pirate, firefighter, break dancer, ect.) choosing one lucky woman at the end to sit and be "serviced". They touched their muscles, caressed their skin, and even grabbed their packages. Of course we picked our favorites: Mine was the bald stripper named Leigh who performed a break dance strip tease to Usher. Nikki quickly fell in love with Adam, who otherwise came to be known as Mr. Australia.
After the show, we were all invited to take pictures with the gentlemen on stage. Any girl would have to be dumb, deaf, and blind to not pose for such a momentous photograph. Nikki and I quickly jumped on line and waited patiently for our turn. Closer and closer we creeped as girls left the stage blushing and fumbling. "Almost to Heaven," we kept telling each other as it slowly became our turn.
"That will be $20 girls," the fireman stripper said to us through his thick accent. "By the way, nice dimples," he sang out to Nikki as he tossed her a little wink. She blushed a bit as we proceeded to the stage.
Finally we were in Eden and again quickly greeted by another shy, but very attractive performer who gave us both a hug. "Have a seat on whoever girls," he said smiling.
Nikki and I quickly found the lap closest to us and sat down gingerly. All of a sudden my lap spoke to me.
"Wow, darling... You have the most amazing ass! Mmmmm," he shouted out as he took a nice handful and squeezed lightly.
"Thanks," I stuttered, "I get that a lot." These were the only words I could muster through my wide smile. A stripper, nay... a performer from the Thunder from Down Under, just told me my ass was not nice, not great, but AMAZING! Nikki was nervously smiling as well as the camera flashed on this perfect kodka moment.
I started the getting up process not wanting this time to end when all of a sudden I felt a tug back on my waist.
"Mates... get a look at this girl's amazing ass! It's beautiful!" he sang out to his fellow co-workers as he proceeded to lift up my shirt slightly so everyone could get a better look. What happened next completely caught me off guard... each stripper came up one by one to pat my ass! These men have women throwing themselves at them twice a night, yearning for just one touch of their perfectly chiseled bodies, and yet they all felt it was extremely crucial to have a feel of a 23 year old New Jersey girl's ass. Needless to say, but I did a little wiggle for them and left the stage with Nikki forever changed.
At the end of the show Nikki's love, Adam said, "Now go back to your home towns and tell all your mates about this." Nikki of course said, "I am telling everyone I know about this. Try and stop me!" That is exactly how I feel... this story needs to be heard everywhere. My ass has been stripper approved. Enough said. No matter what compliments I may receive in my life time, none can ever truly top this. I encourage any woman who plans to travel to Vegas or even just wants to watch some fine men shake their thang... to please purchase tickets to the Thunder from Down Under located at the Excalibur Hotel. The performances are wild, the men are sexy, and you never know what could happen! ; )
Now, what you should know is that when Nikki and I travel together, there is honestly no telling what will happen. Random outbursts in the streets are the norm as we reflect upon the previous night's escapades, promoters constantly harass us as if we were celebrities, we dine at 5 star restaurants with former baseball players for free, and all the little nuances of our trip are recorded in full via camcorder for the world to enjoy. I could truly write a novella based upon the wild adventures of Nikki and myself (or as our aliases have come to be, Claire and Sofia). But attention must be drawn to one particular incident, the night Nikki and I posed for a picture with the stars of a famous male revue.
The Thunder from Down Under, Las Vegas's hottest male revue, luckily was on of the attractions at our hotel, Excalibur. I have watched many talk shows interview the various "performers" and witnessed women travel far and wide just to catch a glimpse of Australia's finest export. To call this show a male revue proves utterly wrong. Classy, well mannered (well to some degree) men dance, sing, and tastefully strip for the delight of women! A must on our Vegas itinerary, we found ourselves one Saturday night at the Thunder Showroom.
Immediately we took our seats while a guided video tour exhibited the various performers posing throughout the Australian outback. Suddenly, the screen drew up as a darkened staged produced swirls of white smoke . Music started blasting and a strobe light hit the stage as one by one men with bodies like the David and faces like Adonis strutted their stuff for all of us screaming banshees in the audience. Each did their own themed strip tease (pirate, firefighter, break dancer, ect.) choosing one lucky woman at the end to sit and be "serviced". They touched their muscles, caressed their skin, and even grabbed their packages. Of course we picked our favorites: Mine was the bald stripper named Leigh who performed a break dance strip tease to Usher. Nikki quickly fell in love with Adam, who otherwise came to be known as Mr. Australia.
After the show, we were all invited to take pictures with the gentlemen on stage. Any girl would have to be dumb, deaf, and blind to not pose for such a momentous photograph. Nikki and I quickly jumped on line and waited patiently for our turn. Closer and closer we creeped as girls left the stage blushing and fumbling. "Almost to Heaven," we kept telling each other as it slowly became our turn.
"That will be $20 girls," the fireman stripper said to us through his thick accent. "By the way, nice dimples," he sang out to Nikki as he tossed her a little wink. She blushed a bit as we proceeded to the stage.
Finally we were in Eden and again quickly greeted by another shy, but very attractive performer who gave us both a hug. "Have a seat on whoever girls," he said smiling.
Nikki and I quickly found the lap closest to us and sat down gingerly. All of a sudden my lap spoke to me.
"Wow, darling... You have the most amazing ass! Mmmmm," he shouted out as he took a nice handful and squeezed lightly.
"Thanks," I stuttered, "I get that a lot." These were the only words I could muster through my wide smile. A stripper, nay... a performer from the Thunder from Down Under, just told me my ass was not nice, not great, but AMAZING! Nikki was nervously smiling as well as the camera flashed on this perfect kodka moment.
I started the getting up process not wanting this time to end when all of a sudden I felt a tug back on my waist.
"Mates... get a look at this girl's amazing ass! It's beautiful!" he sang out to his fellow co-workers as he proceeded to lift up my shirt slightly so everyone could get a better look. What happened next completely caught me off guard... each stripper came up one by one to pat my ass! These men have women throwing themselves at them twice a night, yearning for just one touch of their perfectly chiseled bodies, and yet they all felt it was extremely crucial to have a feel of a 23 year old New Jersey girl's ass. Needless to say, but I did a little wiggle for them and left the stage with Nikki forever changed.
At the end of the show Nikki's love, Adam said, "Now go back to your home towns and tell all your mates about this." Nikki of course said, "I am telling everyone I know about this. Try and stop me!" That is exactly how I feel... this story needs to be heard everywhere. My ass has been stripper approved. Enough said. No matter what compliments I may receive in my life time, none can ever truly top this. I encourage any woman who plans to travel to Vegas or even just wants to watch some fine men shake their thang... to please purchase tickets to the Thunder from Down Under located at the Excalibur Hotel. The performances are wild, the men are sexy, and you never know what could happen! ; )
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