Andrew Laudicina
To quote a line from one of my favorite movies, “Robocop,” “I’ll buy that for a dollar!”
This past Saturday night, I attended my first stag party. The night was filled with food, alcohol, raffles, and of course, “entertainment.” Great Success!! (Insert a photo of Borat with two thumbs up here.)
This being my first time and all, I had no idea what truly expect. I ended up winning a 24-pack of
Budweiser and a Sony DVD player in the raffle. The DVD player I traded to my friend for a bottle of Crown Royal, which he had won. I had a few social drinks and played beer pong with a few friends. And then around 10:30 p.m. the entertainment finally showed up.
I always believed strippers never had any morals at all, but after seeing what I saw Saturday night, I now believe strippers have a lot more morals over women who work a stag party. Take the bar for standards and place it wherever you would like, then move down about 20 notches and that is where women working stag parties belong. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to refer to them as. Are they soulless people? Strippers? Skanks? I think I’ll just call them dancers for the purpose of this column.
My friend, the bachelor, sat in a chair in the middle of a half circle of chairs where the rest of us sat. Before the three dancers came out, everyone covered the bachelor in singles. It looked as if he was a living money tree. As soon as the dancers came out, they were on him more than white on rice. They were doing flips and straddling him like there was no tomorrow. It was both funny and awesome. Of the three, two weren’t bad looking at all, although one had implants and I’m not a fan of implants at all. The third dancer wasn’t really attractive at all and had national geographic-looking boobs.
After the dancers were done having their way with him, they moved on to everyone sitting in the half circle. Next thing I knew, every person had a dollar bill on each thigh. So, I did the same thing and then took it a step further and stuffed one in collar of my shirt.
When one of the dancers finally made her way to me, she did the usual routine of jumping on me and rubbing her chest in my face. Then she asked what the dollar in my shirt was for and I think I told her something along the line of whatever you want to do with it. My friend near me was yelling at her to bite my neck. She didn’t bite me. She did however nibble on my neck a little, which normally I would have enjoyed, but from a woman working a stag party, I felt like I might have caught a disease.
I was under the impression the dancers would do the same type of routines strippers do. Take a dollar or two and dance around for 30 seconds. Wrong. They were dancing for at least two minutes at each person and they were letting people grab their boobs. I was like whoa…didn’t know I could have done that.
Finally, the dancers went back to working on the bachelor. They were trying to raise money to take off their thongs. Once that happened, they began to raise money to start doing certain things to him, which I won’t get into. But I just stood there thinking in my head, “Are they really raising money to do that? Yes, yes they are. Amazing.”
It was a night to remember, that is for sure.
