So it’s almost the weekend again, which means what? A bar? A party? Ehhhh. Sometimes that gets old and you need a little extra something-something in your weekend. I know I do. Last weekend my friend and I got really bored at the Northside Tavern (I think that was because everyone we knew was at Grammars, which I thought burned down, and it was only like 9:30 p.m.). Instead of sitting around getting wasted in the 'Side, we decided to shake things up a bit and go to the Brass Ass.
Now it’s no secret that I like/love strip clubs. Not all strip clubs. I hate Deja Vu. It’s full of depressed anorexics, 18-year-olds and tan, spiky hair dudes all hopped up on Red Bull. I just really love the Brass Ass, which I would consider more like a classy (ha ha) titty bar than a strip club because those girls still have to wear part of their sassy outfits while dancing.They have to dress up to undress!
Instead of going alone, my friend and I decided to call up a male friend of ours, just because boys are supposed to like strip clubs and he had all this Obama campaign money burning a hole in his pocket (what better way to waste $100 than on half-naked Kentucky chicks?). So we went to Newport and walked into the Brass Ass and there was a cover. Well, there's always a cover on the weekends, and it's only $5, but it's hard to actually pay to see boobs. I mean, there's a part of you that wants to resist admitting that you're willing to pay to see boobs, especially when you're a girl and you have some of your own you could look at. So we tried to go to the Brass Bull instead, which claims to be a strip club but there are never, EVER any dancers in there. It's just a boring bar with an empty pole and a stage. There's no cover, but what's the point of going in there? If we wanted to get drunk in a boring bar, we could have just stayed in Northside. So we went back to the Brass Ass, paid our money and went in.
There's a one drink minimum there, but you're weird if you don't have at least one drink at a strip club. What are you? Moral? And at this point I'd like to mention that the Brass Ass has made some much-needed renovations since the last time I was there a few months ago. They repainted the walls behind the stage with sparkly glitter stuff, got rid of the cheap shiny shredded streamer curtain and actually put in a SCREEN. This screen is great. Dancers can go behind it and do a Jessica Rabbit strip tease thing. Disappointingly only one dancer kept using it. She was this older woman with giant, giant, GIANT implants and fringy, over-the-knee legwarmers (I wish I had a picture of these). Seeing her giant implants in shadowy outline was hilarious. Boobs that are that big are not sexy. She looked like a strained and painful charicature of the woman she once was, but she was working that shadow screen. She was even gyrating around on a chair back there while other girls were trying to make money on the pole (rude). I don't even think she was making tips for it. I think she just really liked dancing around back there and getting attention. She seemed like that kind of person.
We were all seated up around the catwalk, which was my first time doing that. I feel this space is usually reserved for people a) with dollar bills b) with dollar bills who are willing to put them in girl's ass cracks. I'm generally not willing to do that. I have some germ phobias, to say the least. But sitting up in the middle of the action was totally fun. I don't know if it was because we actually had money or because all of the dancers like to talk to women in the audience. They don't say sexy things like "Hey girls, wanna make out?" They just have casual conversations about the song or the other creepy male patrons. One girl, who was really actually so cute, kept saying she felt awkward and that my friend and I should totally be dancers there. We'd make alot of money, apparently.
This girl, who we talked to later, just started like three weeks ago. Some of the girls at the Brass Ass are less than attractive, I mean I'm sure that they're someone's "type," just not mine. There was even a girl with a C-section scar. Not joking. But that makes the whole endeavor more human, doesn't it? But back to this babe. She's young, pretty, she has great body, really cool hair and she had a cute black outfit with fringe on the butt and black high heels instead of the glow-in-the-dark Lucite ones. She looked like a hot Northside, not-overly-cool hipster chick. Why she was working there, I don't know. But the drunker my friend and I got, the more and more we wanted to be her actual friend. We were trying to devise a plan to pay her to sit with us and drink whisky becuase she was talking to an old, fat guy who kept grabbing her butt. That never worked out, but we put a bunch of money in her garter. Yes, she was classy enough to have on a garter for her money. You didn't have to put anything in any of her holes. I recommend going to see her. Give her your money. She plays good music.
Did you know that strip club bathroom stalls have no doors? I'm assuming this is so you cant give out BJs for money in the bathroom, but it's really awkward. I had to pee so I walked in there and hit this huge she-male stripper with the door. She was really rude so I feel OK calling her a man. She was very tall and flat, in the front and back. But I had to pee with her in there! It was horrible! I felt like I should have just peed in the sink in front of her. We saw her dancing later and it was hilarious. She just got out on the stage and stodd there. She swayed back and forth a little bit, but that's it. She even sat down at the end of the stage for part of her set. And she played FEIST!!!! FEIST!!!! Who strips to Feist? The girls still get to play all of their own music on the jukebox, which is so amazing/hilarious/telling/sometimes painful. One of them couldn't stop dancing to CCR and John Fogerty. COULD NOT STOP.
Speaking of radio-friendly Indie bands, while the she-male was dancing this hilarious guy next to me said, "Is she a dude?" which he made me high-five him for. I hate high-fives. And then, "Is this Feist? What the fuck?" And I said, "Yes. What the fuck?" After that bonding experience, he took something out of his pocket to show me. He goes, "Look at that. See who this ticket is for? See? And where?" He took a ticket for a Kings of Leon show in Detroit the following day out of his hoodie pocket! He was soooo stoked on this. He had to ask me all about the KOL, what I thought of their new album, their new hair (which I hate, BTW) and other music I liked.
End result is that we spent all of our money, made new friends, got schooled in the ways of semi-public urination and I flashed the door guy my boobs. It just sort of seems like no big deal when you've been drinking and staring at other people's boobs all night.