Hi. My name is Merekat and I love strip clubs. And this is why I love going to New Orleans. Don't get me wrong. I love the boozing and ridiculous shenanigans that ensue before you even pull into the city limits, but let's get real here. I can get just as shit faced in Memphis on Beale Street. What I can't do in Memphis is go to strip clubs. Sure, we have them here...the Pony, Platinum Plus (if it's even still open), but I'd rather not get shot by some hood rat or get aids. Plus, those bitches don't have the skillz that the strippers in New Orleans do.
A few of the girls, including the bride, going on the bachelorette trip this weekend were with me the first time I experienced a strip club. It was my junior year of college and I was giggly like a little school girl around her first crush. We all were to be quite honest. I had this preconceived notion that the titty bar was going to be nasty and grungy with disgusting girls with no teeth and saggy boobs. What I didn't expect was this tu-tu clad, teeny tiny little black girl with wild hair prancing around the stage at Barely Legal. I swear to God she was the cutest thing I had ever seen. I wanted to just scoop her up and put her in my pocket and take her home. Not to bang. I'm not a lesbian. Nor do I get turned on by strippers, but I quickly reevaluated my opinions of strip clubs. The way they climb up and down the poles with only their legs is a fucking art form. SK and I were bellied up to the stage with our ridiculously overpriced drinks cautiously sticking one's in the girls g-strings and nervously laughing and whispering to each other. Before we knew it, we had strippers in our laps, our inhibitions were out the window, and we were invited to the VIP Lounge upstairs. The little black ballerina and I became fast friends. As she sat in my lap and played with my hair, momma-mode kicked in. With slurred speech and glazed eyes, I tried telling her how she could make something of herself and leave this fantasy world of too few dolla bills and gawking men.
Well, it didn't work...because I have her cell phone number and visit her at whichever strip joint she's working at every time I'm in NOLA. Since then, I have introduced her to Momma Hen (When she saw me she hopped off of a client's lap and gave me a huge hug. Mom has never been more proud.), my brother (who was NOT amused), all of his friends (who thought I was cool as shit), and everyone else I bring down on random trips. Unfortunately, she did not text me back this week when I announced my return to the big easy. Maybe she got a new number. Maybe she moved. Or maybe the rough life caught up with her and she took my advice. Whatever. I'm sure I'll see her this weekend as we force lap dances upon SK.
If anyone knows this stripper, tell her I'm on my way.
XOXO,
Honey
http://barelylegalnola.com/
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