Sunday, April 17, 2016

Holy Crap! Thank you Papa Hemingway!

Gentle Readers,

Has it really be almost a year since my last post? It has nothing to do with the fact that my life has been in a complete tornado, working, at times, three jobs. I just realized that in order to continue this blog in a true Hemingway fashion, I needed to drink more and work less. My liver and bank account both complained bitterly. So, Shut the heck up Liver. It's time to write.

So, time for some lessons from the trauma ER. Yes, I still work there. Yes, things are still crazier than a donkey hopped up on Irish Whiskey. So, let's dive right in. No time lost....

Gentlemen,

Taking your lady to a strip club can and is a wonderful experience. It shows your lady that you are excited to show her off to others, especially scantily clad women. It shows the scantly clad women that you are not really a perv, there to look at their girlie parts (don't lie, you are, BUT, it doesn't seem like you are) and if you play your cards perfectly, you can check off two things on that 'ol bucket list - a threesome and banging a stripper.

Oh, Gentle Reader, please remember, that this is a) my blog and b) I channel Papa Ernest Hemingway and thus I will use foul Sailor language any and all times I want. Yes, Hemingway used foul language. See The Old Man and the Sea. Page 85. He used "thus." Very filthy for the time. So suck it!

Okay, so you are looking mac daddy and your girl is looking fly and you are making it rain in the clubs. Your girl has bought you a lap dance, you bought your girl a lap dance. Things are heating up. It looking good for bucket list check offs. Then, Strawberry Fields, all 5'10' of her, poured into some skimpy boy shorts and a neon green corset, topped or bottomed off with 6" stripper heels starts whispering in your ear. You laugh. She giggles. She whispers again. You  smile, starting to focus because the checklist is about to be checked.

All of a sudden you hear screams. Like a small girl who lost her doll in a whirl of tornado dust. Screams. Louder. More shrill. Shut up little girl! Why are you even in a strip club? Why are you feel a pulsating warmth on your side. Why is Strawberry tripping backwards over her overly sized platform heels? Why is your throat so hoarse? Are you screaming? No, you are a bad ass mofo. Why is you world slowly fading to black? Where is your lady? That fine, sweet girl you are head over heels for? Why is she standing over you with what looks like a butcher knife. What is dripping off the blade? Is that blood? Why????

Sheeeet mofo. Don't take your girl to a strip club and FORGET TO PAY ATTENTION TO HER! She will shank your ass. Several times. Then you will come to my trauma ER, I will be forced to strip you naked and all the racial stereotyping will be proven false. And, seriously, it wasn't that cold in the Trauma Bay. It wasn't. We had the heat lamp and warm blankets on you Dude.

And let's just focus for a minute, you just got shanked by your lady friend for failing to pay attention to her. Do you think I feel sorry for you? No. Not a bit, so stop crying like a little girl. Seriously. Shut the heck up. You have flesh wounds. But, you may want to consider having your lady wear tighter clothes. Where was she hiding that knife?

Yes, maybe not me best writing effort, but I am back in saddle, drinking a nice concoction of Kirkland Signature Margarita Mix kicked up with Kirkland Signature Tequila (nice sponsorship opportunity Costco...).

So, Gentle Reader, I bid you adieu... Off with Shank Girl and Strawberry Fields to check a few things off my bucket list...Never been with a stripper and knife girl before cooking jambalaya....