Volume VI: The Stripper Essay
An oldie but a funnie, in which I go to Thunder From Down Under in Las Vegas.
Oil Spill On a Tire Fire
The VIP table put me, my sister Tina, and the rest of the bachelorettes front and center, seated around a long rectangular table pointing towards the stage. I watched the other audience members file in. Women young and old packed the theater and more surly looking boyfriends than I had expected to see, there to make sure their girlfriends loved them enough not to enjoy the few moments of their entire lives dedicated exclusively to their sexuality.
We had each paid eighty dollars for VIP tickets to see Thunder From Down Under, a live male revue featuring Australia’s hottest transplants to Las Vegas. I didn’t know much about the show, so it was fun and a little frightening knowing I’d soon see lots of penises swinging around my family members.
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