I know that the title suggests that the strip club that I'm about to talk about was once a stellar establishment, a place where a man could walk into that miniature titty palace with 50 dollars and a dream, with girls so clean you actually wouldn't throw up inside your own mouth if they happened to put their gyrating crotch in your face. Actually the place in question, Magic City, was always a shit-hole to be completely honest with you, but I spent a good deal of money there about a decade ago merely because the girls were cute and thick enough, every girl there had self esteem and daddy issues so I knew I would at least leave there feeling better about myself, and there was a good chance that some dancer would show you first hand what her regular 9-5 was(Whoring). Around the mid-90's, damn near every day of the week you could see me walking out of Magic city hundreds of dollars lighter, sporting a otherwise lackluster chubby that I felt I could drive nails with that particular night, hoping that the young lady that I intended to work my frustrations on later that night wouldn't notice the glitter on my skin or the sour stripper perspiration embedded in my clothes. Muslims have Mecca to look forward to, aspiring actors one day dream of Oscar glory, an inner city kid with nice handles and a decent 3 point shot hopes to one day raise up an NBA championship trophy, based on the discreet hand-jobs and lies I was told about my gigantic phallus, Magic City felt like home to me. I would have tried to own that place by now, but I had to take a 10 year hiatus from that place because I beat the brakes off of the wrong dude.
Long story short I tried to politely intervene when I saw a gentlemen get extremely rough with one of the dancers, he punched me in the face for doing so, then I proceeded to embarrass the piss out of him by not only beating his ass and jumping off the bumper of a car and landing atomic elbows like I was a wrestler, but I snatched his chain and went through his pockets on some high school bully shit. Well, that wasn't exactly the smartest move in the world since that gentleman was one of the biggest drug dealers in the city known for his bad temper, itchy trigger finger, and penchant for making people disappear that he doesn't agree with. I won't go as far as to say there was a price on my head, but lets just say if I saw that dude again, in the words of Mobb Deep, that would have probably been my "last earth memory". Usually I'm too foolish to take these type of matters seriously, but this had "loss" written all over it, and the last thing I wanted to do was have my mother sobbing in a black dress with my two siblings wrapping their arms around her for support. I knew that by me not going there any more would save my life since it was three cities away from where I lived, but in the back of my mind I hated the fact that I would have to abandon the only safe haven for a sexual deviant like myself outside of Vegas.
Fast forward 100 fights, 10+ years, 5 failed relationships, the dude I beat up washing up on the shore with 4 bullets in him a few years back, and scores of times where I shrugged and told a naked woman "This is the first time that this has ever happened to me!" later, I decided to revisit the building where it's best to wear sweatpants to if you are a pervert of my caliber. The thing is the strip-club, like a faulty septic tank or Faison Love's performance in "Idlewild", really went to shit. Here are a few examples:
Saggy-Tit Sheila is still there: When I started walking to the front door, taking in my surroundings and reminiscing like a person visiting their old High School, who do I see outside smoking a cigarette but Saggy-tit Sheila. See, Sheila was a dancer more than a decade ago when I used to frequent the place, a girl who I used to feel sorry for her so I'd give her pity lap-dances because she was never picked by any of the deviants that went there. Night after night she would sit there sulking like a fat kid who didn't get picked for a team during gym class, so I would pull out a 20 and out of pity and I would receive the worst lap-dance of my life. Sheila is nice enough, but I would have hoped that she would have made a career change by now based on her lap-dances feeling like you had just been dry humped by a bag of brooms, with saggy tits that is. When I saw her she gave me a great big hug, commented on how my dreads had gotten longer, and before she could get it out I said as politely as possible "Fuck no I don't want a lap-dance!!"
The Bartender was the hottest thing there: When I walked into the runway part of the joint, the part where the bar that is, I noticed that the bartender was kind of cute. She had a curly Afro, a dashiki, and perky breasts that suddenly made me fall in love with dashiki's, I suddenly got the image of me ejaculating and screaming "Power to the People!!" at the top of my lungs. Granted, she had a pretty deep voice for a chick and she did give me a pretty mean handshake, but maybe that was just me being too observant.
They have a hearing impaired dancer: After I got a beer I sat down at the runway in front of what would be the best stripper in the whole joint, which is a bad thing since this young Latina woman was amazingly average. As I threw down dollars and screamed rude shit like, "Spread your legs and let me see your small intestines baby!", I noticed that she was slightly off beat. I know, I'm just a guy who wants to see titty's and not a judge of a fucking dance competition, I just noticed it that's all. When the music stopped and she kept dancing for a few beats I just thought that she was a free spirit, enjoying the moment, or maybe she was jacked up on Heroin to forget about the disappointment she has become to her parents, who knows? Anyway, she stopped dancing, grabbed the money, leaned over and mouthed the words "Thank You" while doing sign language. Later on I learned that she dances off of the vibrations of the beat, and she was a pretty nice chick to be completely honest. Come to think about it, nothing is wrong with a hearing impaired woman being a stripper, I just went into that nonsensical paragraph to say that I'd think that it would be a bitch dating a hearing impaired woman because of all the chap-stick you'd have to go through.(You don't want her to be reading cruddy lips all the time)
A few of the ladies could play the center position for a NFL squad: Ladies, don't get it twisted, I love me a woman who shops in the Lane Bryant catalog. For my love of thick thighs, juicy buttocks, and breasts that could be used as flotation devices, the last thing I'd do on a date is bitch about that 2nd trip to the buffet line that my date took. But some of the women who were stripping that night had no business stripping, to the point that a proud big girl like Mo'nique would take a private jet to Virginia just to tell these women in person, "Baby, you don't have any business stripping!!" You know what's not sexy, seeing women pant like fucking marathon runners after doing the most pedestrian of stripper maneuvers. I'm not saying that a chick has to live in the gym to shake their ass in front of me, but I don't want a woman who looks like she sweats when she eats dancing in front of me either. Not for nothing, but I kept expecting to see Crisco I.V's attached to their arms. The next time I come there, if there is a next time, I will be sure to leave my money at home and pay these lovely women with Hot-Pockets.
Some of the dancers there had been around the block, fuck it, around the equator: I know that I've been around the block a bit myself and I'm no spring chicken, but if some of those women were automobiles I'm sure the odometer would have flipped a few times. I was so outraged that I sparked a conversation with stranger at the bar about the subject: "Sir, look at that one, I don't know whether to be aroused or be inspired to play baseball, because her crotch sure looks like a catcher's mit to me. (pointing) Look at that one, her skin is so tough it looks like you could sharpen steak knives on her back. (pointing again) Man, you have to have a strong constitution to fuck that one, its probably akin to fucking the skin rolls on a bulldog!!" After I laugh hysterically to myself I notice that the gentleman that I'm talking to didn't find it funny, there is a good chance that he was the owner of said establishment.
I noticed that they have roaches: After that gentlemen took off like bra's at Spring Break and shit, I decided to order another beer and watch some Sports-center that was playing on a flat-screen behind the bar. As I turned up my beer I noticed a couple of roaches scurry in front of me like frolicking lovers in a wheat field, but I didn't particularly make a big fuss about it since I had no plans on eating there. Then, on cue, one of the dancers that I mentioned earlier approaches me with a not-so-subtle sex offer which would result in me losing 60 bucks and catching a brand new sexual disease that scientists would probably be kind enough to name after me. That's when I asked her, "You know you have roaches right??", in which she quickly responded in an irritating manner "I know, and??" That's when I immediately retorted, "I can't fuck a chick who's comfortable dancing in a strip club with roaches. With standards that low, just imagine the state of affairs in which you keep your vagina!!"
What's up with all these lesbians?: Lesbians in strip-clubs is nothing new, and I embrace anyone who loves the blessed vagina as much as I do, its just that I've never seen so many female women lovers in a strip-club at the same time before. Not only that, but the lesbians who were at Magic City that night are the variety that I loathe. Let me explain: Outside of the fact that I told my doctor "A little to the right, doc" while getting my prostate examined and my love for show tunes, I've always felt that I have a very gay friendly blog. I'm not homophobic in the least, believe that everyone should have the same rights, and I would fight alongside anyone for them to achieve said rights. Its just that, well, certain gay people bug me that's all. For example, old gay guy's creep me out, there I said it. As for females, I'm cool with the lipstick lesbians, the butch chicks, I just have a problem with the ones that want to look like little black boys, it just creeps me out that's all. Matter of fact I got into an argument with one young lady that night because I talked to her girlfriend(The Bartender), and I think I told her "That's why your ass looks like Nas in his "It Ain't hard to tell" video!!"