About the strippers: I didn’t know they were strippers. That’s right. It’s not like strippers on vacation go around gracefully shedding clothes with bills hanging out of their jeans. Bartok and I were just introduced to these three girls (also staying in the house) who had the largest breasts either of us had ever seen in real life. Like biggest EVER.
As she described, “Their boobs are bigger than my butt cheeks.” Actually, they were two times bigger.
We were told they were visiting from Miami. I’ve never been to Miami and therefore just assumed that every girl in Miami looked liked a Barbie with a double-G size chest which cost a lot of Gs. That’s just what television taught me. But these girls were super nice. They didn’t speak unless spoken to (which for some reason, I didn’t find weird) and in an emergency lip gloss crisis in the car (the emergency being I needed gloss in a more pinkish shade of red), stripper #1 bust open her purse and provided me with a lip gloss pharmacy – literally a mini Sephora store with various options in every shade. Then Bartok complained that she wanted blush to make her cheekbones pop. Out of the magic bag, stripper #1 clicked open a blush compact and said,
“Don’t worry, I’ll pop you.”
Full make up service in the back seat of the car! And I think I’m being feminine when I deign to carry gum? I could get used to this.
The next day, after one of the boys in the house mysteriously sent the strippers away (most likely because they’d fulfilled whatever their assigned duty had been the night before, while I was passed out), I, concerned, asked where they went.
“You know they were strippers, right?” He replied.
“NO!” I said. I was genuinely shocked.
“You think normal people have boobs like that?”
“I thought it was normal in Miami.”
He shook his head at me, sighed, and continued to swig a bottle of white wine. Wrong. Wrong Again. About the chef and nightclub Dune here…
May 31st, 2008 at 11:48 pm
never fails to amaze me