Jul 24, 2008


We got most of the moving done, and we'll be finishing up the rest over the weekend. Then it'll take a couple weeks of unpacking and getting the new place in order. So I'm hoping that if everything goes well, I'll be back full time around mid August.

Secondly I want to thank Jeanine for the wonderful things she said about my blogs. When I first read her words I was completely speechless.

Well, I am not speechless anymore.

When I started writing these little wastes of space, I was usually drinking and/or drunk and very angry.

Then as time passed I just started writing random things that were happening to me at that time.

As more time went by, I started writing some stories that shaped the man I am right now. I write about my world in general.

Now my world includes a person who took time out to say some nice things about what I do here. Not only did Jeanine pimp my blog out, she did it without any begging or pleading from me but, because she likes what I write.

I will forever be thankful for that. Any writer wants to know what people think of their words that are strung together. I'm no different.

Of course now, I'm going to worry about the quality and caliber of my writing, but that's a good thing. What she said will challenge me to continue to improve and expand on my writing.

I thanked her in an email and in a comment, and now I thank her in a blog. It seems only fitting because it was through blogs that we have become friends.

Jul 18, 2008


A week goes by and it's time for me to step back into White and Orange Romper Room for my buddies birthday party.

There were six men in our "Party Animal" Entourage.

As we all stepped into the lobby/hallway area of Hooters (you might remember me talking about this area -This was the spot where "I was greeted with all of these pictures and posters of all these lovely and "blessed" women garbed in tight white t-shirts and orange shorts"), because of my previous bragging escapade, I led the group being the perennial expert of all things Hooters (the restaurant not the body part).

Much to my dismay it was the same hostess I met the prior week, and she recognized me. She says "Well hello again. You sure wasted no time coming back."

Internally - I groaned. I just wanted to crawl under a rock to rot away and become an all you can eat buffet for the worms that are said to frequent under said rock.

Externally - I said "Well this time I'm here because it's my buddy's birthday and what place better is there to start a birthday party then at Hooters?"

She laughed and looked at my friend and said "Well then let me be the first to person at Hooters to wish you a Happy Birthday." And she gave him a dazzling smile.

He said "Thank you." and giggled like a school girl.

She led us to our table and tells us our waitress will be with us in a minute. We all choose a place to sit our collected fat asses down. The birthday boy looks over at me and asks me what, if anything, I know about the hostess. Without thinking I answer "I know she just turned 18 recently, and I think she's here most Fridays." The guys all looked at me like I was this shaman of cool (which I am SO not).

After that our waitress shows up, looks at the table, sees me and says "Hi Jose, how are you?"

Internally - I groaned. I just wanted to crawl under a rock to rot away and become an all you can eat buffet for the worms that are said to frequent under said rock, again.


I have this habit of introducing myself to people who introduce themselves. For example (and since I can't remember her name, so for the sake of this blog we'll call her "Andi")...

"Hi I'm Andi and I'll be your server today."

"Well, howdy Andi, I'm Jose and this is _______ (whoever happens to be with me that day)."

I do this because many many years ago my mother taught me three simple rules.

1. Be polite and respectful to the people who handle your food. You never know if they might do something to it.

2. Be polite and respectful to the people who cut your hair, because they control how good or bad you new look will be.

3. Be polite and respectful to the people who you fall asleep with, because while you are asleep, you have no control over what might happen while you slumber.


Externally - I say "Hi Andi, I'm doing good, but not as good as the birthday boy here though. How have you been?"

She says, "I'm doing good."

Looks over to my friend and says, "and a happy birthday to you."

He says "Thank you."

She asks me "Should we start you with a pitcher of beer like last time?"

I say "Let's make two pitchers, and I don't think some of us have looked at the menu yet." (god, I sound like a pompous ass don't I?)

"Ahh, so I'm dealing with a table that's easily distracted, huh. OK, I'll be back with the beer in just a minute, OK?"

She walked away. The fellas immediately opened up the menus so they would be ready to order when she returned with our libations. When she had gone far enough away from our table, the inquisition began.

"What do you know about her?" "How old is she?" "How often DO you come here?"

"Aren't they all a little young?" Ouch.

I knew one of them would ask me something like that. Me being the "OMG she's just a kid!", when discussing actresses who were in my opinion, recently out of diapers.

At this point I really had two choices. I could come clean, be honest, and expose the web that I had spun two weeks before. Or I could continue with the charade. I chose the latter.

"Andi" returned with the beer and asked if I was going to have the burger again?

Internally - Damnit!! How on earth can I have the bad luck of having a waitress with a mind like a steel trap. Normally I would love this, but that night I wanted this horror to end.

Externally - "Sure that sounds good."

The rest of the guys, ordered their food, and away she went again.

"I thought you didn't like looking at the young ones?"

I looked at each and every one of the guys and said "Have you seen me look around at all? No? It's because I don't sit here and ogle at every waitress. When I do come here, I'm usually with a friend, where we sit and have a conversation."

This was the truth, because the week before I was there with Mike and we did have a conversation. It was about how to get out of this mess I had gotten myself into, but it was a non-ogling conversation.

"The times when I come alone, I'm usually reading a book or a comic."

Which is also another truth...sort of. Back in DISAPPOINTMENT 2 - THE FINAL SPOT-LITE, I made a reference to a strip club "that would end up to be and still is my favorite." I would frequent this establishment during the noon hours for a few reasons.

1. They made one KILLER burger.

2. It wasn't very busy.

3. The dancers chose and played the music. Which was really good music

4. The bar itself was situated in a way that there was a section that was completely blind to the stage, where one could enjoy the beer, the burger, the music and even read a book or a comic. Which I started doing when I realized how young some of the dancers looked.

"So can we just drop this and just have a good time? Sheesh."

"Andi" came back with our food. They ate and laughed. Some of the guys made the usual guy comments and some leered on the sly.

I concentrated on my burger. I am a guy, and I try really hard not to be a complete pig. I admit I have some piggish moments, but for the most part I try to be a good man.

The girls started to come over to do some song/clapping thing for the birthday boy, and I excused myself. Because, as we all know, beer makes you pee. So I went to the bathroom. When I got back they were done, and everybody in our group were ready to go our separate ways.

They all chipped in and took off pretty quickly. Birthday boy, said thanks for a great night and went on his merry way.

I grabbed all the money and counted it. And then I recounted it.


I was 30 bucks short. How could they? Rotten bastards. Thank god they were my friends and I could get back at them, but someone still stuck me with their part of the bill. I was so pissed off. Thankfully I had the money to cover it, but I was still mighty pissed.

That was when "Andi" showed up. I asked her why she remembered me? It was a thought that had plagued me the entire evening.

"Because you and your friend last week, had actually talked to me and you guys were nice and polite. You guys were my first table since I had just finished the training the day before. Since then I've had customers that were slobbish and some that were nice, but you two were the only guys who were polite. So when you walked in I remembered you."


I said thanks, paid my bill, doubled the tip, and I left.

I went back a few more times that year, usually with a book, and I always asked if I could be seated in "Andi's" section. It was a good feeling knowing that I was remembered for something positive. It was also a good feeling knowing that I was there visiting someone who could be classified as a friend.

Than one day I went to Hooters and found out she wasn't working there anymore. I knew this day was coming, because she had mentioned going back to college on different occasions.

She had finally moved on to greener pastures.

I was disappointed that I never got to thank her for making me realize that I am not such a bad person.

This would be a lesson I forgot for a long time.


Jul 17, 2008


The following year, a friend was going to celebrate his birthday and he didn't know where he wanted to go. Another friend suggested Hooters

of course this was the hands down favorite among the guys.

I had never been to a Hooters and neither had the birthday boy. He hemmed and hawed about not wanting to be surrounded by strippers (which of course made me to gasp out in surprise, 'who DOESN'T want to be surrounded by strippers?' I remembered the Dino episodes, of course, but I kept those horror stories to myself.). Being one of the more vocal member of of our particular little clan of "party animals" (said with more sarcasm than Hollywood has silicone), I talked it up like I was seasoned pro and, finally convinced him that into having his celebration among the buxom beauties in orange by saying I would pay for him.

His birthday was two weeks away. That means I had less than 14 days to actually go there, so I could act the part of the above mentioned season pro.

I was caught in my web of deceit (who didn't see THAT coming?). Since I had never been to a Hooters, I needed someone to go there with. I couldn't ask the "party animals" because they had all been there when I said how awesome it was, and to ask them would expose me to ridicule. I know it would have been deserved, but like most men, I just didn't want to hear about it.

I convinced my friend Mike to come with me. Yes, the same Mike from the Cheetahs debacle. Because he was a long time friend, I told him about my predicament. He agreed to go, but I had to pay for him.

Which basically means I was committed to treating two people, to a place I have never been to and not knowing what to expect.

That weekend, Mike and I headed to Hooters.

Upon entering, I was greeted with all of these pictures and posters of all these lovely and "blessed" women garbed in tight white t-shirts and orange shorts.



I did not notice the Hostess. There was a young girl wearing a white polo shirt who stood by the inside door though.

During this moment in time I was 26-27 years old, and this girl looked like she was 16, so I took her for the busboy...ahh I mean busgirl. When she asked us "How many in your party?" I was a bit stunned. Mike answered "Just us, and we would like smoking."

She said "Well follow me."

I asked her "Umm, just how old are you?"

She replied "I just turned 18."

"Oh OK." That was all I could say.

Let me explain why anything ending in "teen" unnerves me so much.

For the first 12 1/2 years of my existence I was an only child. Except for every other weekend. That's when my step-brother would stay with us, but I really don't count that. At age 12 1/2 my sister came into the world.

Now if we fast forward the years when I am 26-27 years old my baby sister would be 14-15 years old. Which makes 18 years old look awful young.


This age discrepancy has ruined a whole lot of things for me. Like Playboy. It's so disturbing to see girls who are the same age or younger than my baby sister, displayed for the whole world to see. It makes me feel like a "perverted old man." When Smallville started some of the "party animals" made comments about Allison Mack and Kristen Kreuk (both 19 years old at the time playing the part of a 16 year olds), being so "HOT!" and it just creeped me out.


So the youngling sat us and after a few minutes our waitress approached the table.

Here was yet another "teen."

We ordered a pitcher of beer, a burger for yours truly, and Mike had the hot wings.

As I looked around I noticed a small trend. None of the girls here looked like slightly more mature women in the photos from the lobby. Most of them would definitely fit into the "awww isn't she cute" (said in the tone normally reserved for puppies and small children) category.

I looked at the patrons of the restaurant leering and gawking and thought to myself "Yes sir God, we are all going to hell, and I'll lead the way."

Our food arrived very quickly, which was a god thing because the faster we ate, the faster we could get out of there.

The food was OK. Nothing at all to brag about.

I just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. I felt like a dirty old man.

Knowing I would be back in a week, made me feel even dirtier.


Jul 13, 2008


A few years after the "Belly and the Bottle" incident at the Spot, I decided to see if things had changed at all.

Yes, I am a glutton for punishment.

No, I am not a fast learner.

I asked my girlfriend at the time (after this I will refer to her as "the ex") if she wanted to go with me.  She completely surprised me by saying "Why not.  This way I can see what the big deal with strip clubs is all about."

We went to the Spot, but somethings had changed.

The place had been bought, remodeled, renamed and the talent had been upgraded.  I was shocked, to say the least.

The Spot-lite had been turned into a pretty decent establishment.  It was clean.  I forgot to mention previously that hygiene and cleanliness was not that big on the Spot's list of must do activities.  It actually had a stage, well it was more of a riser but, still technically a stage.  The bar itself was a separate entity, where the fear of getting a stripper heel

in your drink or knocking over an ash tray was no longer a concern

It had about 75 or so patrons of all legal age groups.

There were nine dancers and not a single scar or "belly covering thong" was present.  They were all attractive and could actually dance.

The two bartenders were both young and very good at their trade.  Which means I did not have to wait for a single drink.  I was thinking "Well alright.  My bad strip club mojo has finally ended."  (Ironically, the next strip club I would go to would end up to be, and still is, my favorite place for my 3B's.

Boobies, beers,

and burgers.)

The ex and I find a seat at the bar with a good view of the stage, when one of the dancers comes over and starts talking to us.

Besides one of the bartenders and the exotic dancers, the ex was the only female in there.  I jokingly said, "You're the only girl in here not getting paid."  The ex did not find that funny, but I was giggling like a ten year old who hears the teacher say penis.

The dancer asked us the usual questions that dancers ask as they non-verbally demand their tip.

Her - "How are you guys doing?"

Me - "I'm good and yourself?"  I learned from my B & B Adventure with Mike that being polite and using manners is always a good way to start a conversation with a half nekkid lady that you just met.

The ex - "Fine."

Her - "Did/are you enjoying the show?"

Me - "We walked in at the tail end of your routine, so we didn't really catch it."  I learned from Dino, that if you say that to the dancer, it's a "get out of tipping" comment.  Usually reserved for the ones who did not put on a good performance, or if you REALLY did just walk in.

The ex - "Sorry, I was to busy looking for an open bar spot."

Her - "Is this your first time here?"

Me - "Well I was here when it was just the Spot, but the place looks great now."  I learned from Dino, always compliment the establishment.  You never know if you'll be back, or if you'll run across the same dancer at another establishment.

The ex - "Yes.  I wanted to see what the big deal with strip clubs was."

Her - "Well I'll be back on stage in about an hour, I hope you stick around."

Me - "Well my calender is clear."  Insert laugh here.

The ex - "I guess."

So we sat there, drinking our alcoholic beverages of choice and another dancer came around after her set to non-verbally demand her tip and, she pretty much asked the same questions with the exception of the "back on stage" comment.

The answers stayed more or less the same.

Next thing I know the first dancer sits next to the ex and starts talking to her.  They are laughing and talking which results in yours truly able to enjoy the current performer on the stage.

For some unknown reason I get this feeling, like something isn't kosher.

The dancer and the ex are still deep in conversation.  Yet my spider sense is tingling.

The current dancer finishes her set, and does the walk around.  She get's to the area where the ex, the first dancer, and I are sitting and she joins in their conversation.

She gets her tip.

Looks at me and goes "Hi."

Me - "Hello.  So are you having a good night?"

Her 3 - "It's pretty good."


I give her the tip.

Her 3 - "Thank you."

Me - "You're..."

She walks to the next eager patron.

Me - "welcome."

That funny feeling I had before, is starting to become clear...so I wait and see if it happens again.

Dancers 4, 6, and 8 all ask the usual questions.

Dancers 5, 7, and 9 do not.

I glance over at the ex and notice that she and dancer 1 are still talking.

Then the light bulb finally illuminates those dark crevices of thought.

The motions, the laughs, the hair twirling, the glancing touches, I know I have seen this all before.  It's the things that girls who are flirting do.

I wave the bartender over, order a drink and I casually ask him "So five of the dancers are lesbians aren't they?"

Bartender - "Uh yeah, five of the girls ARE gay."

Me - "The one talking to the ex is too, isn't she?"

Bartender - "Yeah, she is."  Insert bartender laugh.

Her - "I gotta get ready for my set."

The ex - "OK."

Dancer 1 leaves.

Me - "The ex, you do realize she's been flirting with you."

The ex - "What?!"

Me - "Ask the bartender."

The ex - "Is she...?"

Bartender - "Yeah"  Insert bartender laugh...again "She is."

And you can see the realization come across the ex's face.

The ex - "Jose, we ARE leaving now."

Me - "Umm OK."

Why was there an "umm" moment?  Because it dawned on me, that the ex was getting hit on, and I was chopped liver.  The ex was getting real flirt action, while your unsung hero, wasn't even getting fake flirt action.  Which is quite a massive blow to the frail male ego.

I have never returned to the Spot/Spot-lite.


Jul 12, 2008


A few years later (six to be precise) Dino would come to the land of Miller Beer, cheese heads and brats (the sausage not, the unruly kids) for a week in the summer.  By then yours truly finally had some drinking and strip club experience under his belt and remembering the filthy little hovel that Dino had taken me to so many years earlier, I had devised a plan.  Well, OK, it was more like revenge, but come the end of the day I knew he would get the joke.  HEH!

There was this place called The Spot, and it was a horrid little place, with overpriced beers (even by strip clubs standards) and lackluster performers (of the unattractive and out of shape sort).  How did I find this place?  Let me share this story.


My friend Mike was on leave from the army during Christmas and we decided to go to see some boobies.  I only knew where one club was, so Mike decided to look in the phone book to see if there were others in the area.

I did not know that strip clubs advertised in the phone book.  For some reason I found that bit of information completely hilarious.  As I am typing this I am still giggling about that.

We ripped out the page that had the listings and went on this quest for beer and breasts.  The first place we went to was a place called Heart Breakers.  It was just like the Motley Crue's "Girls Girls Girls" video but it was so crowded that it took forever to get a beer.  I am the kind of guy that if I have to wait for a beer, it's an automatic rejection from me.

I know that there were breasts being shimmied and exposed but if I have to wait five minutes for a beer, well that's just unacceptable.  After about an hour we went to the next place on our B & B Adventure.

We arrived at a place called Cheetahs.

There was this moment while we were walking through the Lincoln Town car and Cadillac filled parking lot that I had a feeling that this may not be such a wise decision.  We approached this very nondescript building and all kinds of alarms were going off in my head, BUT I was committed.

At the door, there was a list of rules.  No Beepers, no fur, no sport caps, no guns/knives/brass knuckles (this one made me very VERY concerned), and no use of illegal drugs.  I looked at Mike and he just shrugged his shoulders and said "How bad can it be?"

We opened the door, and I honestly saw the biggest black man I have ever seen.  And by biggest I meant 6'9" - 6'10" and had arms bigger than my thighs, without flexing.  He looked at us...pulled out a hand held metal detector and proceeded to metal detect us.  During this I was watching his arms get bigger and bigger.  He saw me staring, grinned and made a muscle.  He flexed his muscle and I kid you not, his arm doubled in size.

He asked us if we were going to make any trouble and in that instant I remembered every bit of courtesy and good manners my mother had ever taught me and I honestly replied in a very meek voice "No sir, I promise you will get no problems from me."

He laughed and said "Have a good time boys."

In that same meek voice I said "Yes sir, anything you say."

He laughed again, we paid the cover charge and he told us that they have a two drink minimum and then he opened the second door.

Before I get to the actual experience inside this establishment, I have to describe Mike and myself during this time period.  Mike was one of those guys who is very white, like Larry Byrd white, with a military haircut.  More or less he looked pretty clean cut.

I was still emulating Nikki Sixx.  I was this Mexican with long ratty/spiky hair, hoop earrings, and black eyeliner.

OK, you have those images in your head?  Good.

Mike and I walked in the second door.  Where I was witness to another dive, and a dive whose entire clientèle, employees and dancers were all African Americans.

Mike was leading the way, and they gave him this cursory glance, but when their peepers got a hold of me, the glaring and dirty looks commenced immediately and would continue for the 35 minutes we were there.  I was the one who was on the receiving end of the cold (as in iceberg cold) and unwelcome glares.  Needless to say I had never finished the 2 drink minimum in under five minutes before that particular evening.  That night I also found out I had the super human ability to have 6 beers and 4 or 5 shots in 35 minutes.  Not even the dancers came by me.  The only person who treated me somewhat decently was the bartender.

35 minutes came and went and we we're on our way.

Next we went to The Spot.  I was in there for a couple of minutes and I had flashbacks to my Juarez experience, and I thought to myself if Dino ever comes up to visit I'm bringing him here. (I'll be going into details about this establishment during the "REVENGE" portion of this blog)

The night ended there, thankfully.  I didn't know how many more disappointing strip clubs I could endure.


Six or so months later, Dino was here.  I suggested we should go out for drinks, and that I had found this awesome place he would just absolutely love.  Since Dino and I are very alike, he wholeheartedly agreed.  I again did my Nikki Sixx emulation process, and Dino did his "going out" getup which is best described as part Guido and part Goth.

We got there around 9 P.M. which for strip clubs is usually the time when it starts to get busy.

The Spot was hopping.  When we walked in we doubled the clientele.  There were these two old guys who were playing cards with the bartender who looked like Crazy Cooter from the Dukes of Hazzard but nowhere near as friendly.

We both take a seat at the bar just as one of the the dancers hits the stage.

The stage was a piece of construction beauty.  It was a part of the bar with extensions to make it about 6' by 9' with a pole in the middle.  The bar was one of those oblong things, so when a dancer is done with her routine, she actually walks around to collect tips on the bar itself.

The performer was sheer magic.  She had a beer belly.  Not the cute little belly that some girls have.  It was the kind that actually hid part of her thong.  She also had some less than flattering scars and an unfinished and faded belly tattoo that was supposed to be a unicorn, but now kind of looked like a bull (I know this because I asked her).

After her routine, she did the bar walk.

She got to where Dino and I were sitting and she took an immediate liking to Dino.  She was flirting and making small talk with my cousin.

She asked him where he was from.

He said Dallas.

She said (and folks I can't make this up) "So where's that?  Is it in Wisconsin?"

I started laughing, and Dino had this incredulous look on his face.

He said "No, it's in Texas."

She said "Wow, there's a Dallas WI, and a Dallas TX, that's incredible."  Then she picked up his bottle of beer, licks the bottle seductively, places it in between her breasts (while resting it on the previously mentioned beer belly) starts dancing with it, let's go of her breasts and shimmies and shakes with this "licked" beer bottle resting on her belly.

I tip her for her hard work, and Dino just sits there watching her as she puts his beer back down on the bar.  He tips her.  She walks around the bar and looks back at Dino and blows him a kiss.  Afterwards she walks into the back room.

My cousin immediately pulls out his wallet, puts a buck on the bar and tells me "We're getting the fuck out of her...RIGHT NOW!!"

I ask why he's not finishing his beer.  He physically shudders and just walks out the door.

I bust out laughing and follow him out.

He asks me "Why the hell did you bring me here?"

"Do you remember the place you took me to in Juarez?  Consider this payback.  Which makes us even."

He just stares at me, then punches me in the sternum, starts laughing and says "You're right, we are so even."

Yes, it's true folks, sometimes revenge is best when it served cold.  Or at least when it's served by a scary looking chick, who licks bottles.  Heh.