Skeletons in my closet

The silent running dialogue that I often have with myself.

Monday, November 21, 2005

I'm In Love With A Stripper

“I’m in love with a stripper!”

Not me, really not me. It has been years since I hurried to Walgreens and bought a pack of gum with a hundred dollar bill.
“Could I get 99 ones please?”

That is the title to a song I heard on the way to work this morning. Can you believe it? Does this bottomless pit have no end?

No?, okay it is bottomless, right. Anyway, I listened in disbelief as the young cat blasted verse after verse about his love for a certain glittered clad overly perfumed club performer. He had one of those Akon sounds. I don’t know the names of any of the wave of singers but a lot is left to be desired. When I hear a record now I don’t know if it’s a Rap or RB, I don’t know if the record is for the rapper or the singer. But this love ballad was straight RB.

This dude was in love with a stripper!

SideNote:
The past is a hard thing to live down so most people push it way back deep into the closet…ie skeletons. As I write certain things I intentional pull these old bones out make room for new ones, and to express and cleanse the soul. How-some-ever, my sordid history contains many chapters…One Could be labeled STRIPPERS. I never was a big stripper fan. I always felt that a smooth azz brother such as myself should not pay for or want for the affections of females. I had podnuhs who would throw big money at these impressionable young ladies in some vain attempt to win their affections. This hard headed bunch failed to realize that:
1. If it took money for her to notice you, it would take more money

to get more noticed.
2. Somebody always had more money than you.
3. IF she was really that tight, she probably just wants your

money.
4. IF she was really that nice she probably wouldn’t be strippen.


Nothing against strippers, but man what a way to make a living!
So I was pulled into this murky underworld by the first older woman I dated. She was about 10 years my senior. She was a Budweiser Girl, a pro at presenting her body. I met her at a club that had just opened. The club was trying to drum up business so they had models perform. She was a lingerie model, she never really got buck-naked but I think a little clothing is just as sexy as nudity. No popping, just a sultry walk and swagger. She commanded attention. Ms. Lady pulled me in like a fly into the spider’s web, and at 18, I was happy to die. Ms. Lady was good, she would make it known that I was the object of her affections and all the other cats would pour on the dollars to try and buy her from me. I was still shy and uncomfortable, not ready for all of this. But I manned up.
Lets just say that we left with both our lives in shambles. I still say till this day she taught me everything I know about women, sex, and relationships, everything. After writing this I realize that I still romanticize her, and that time…but I didn’t love no stripper.

But this song!!! C’mon people. How far will we slide? I mean I thought “My Neck My Back” was the bottom of the barrel. Now we have moved on to such gems like:
“My MilkShake”
“The Whisper Song”
“My Hump”
“Shake That Laffy Taffy”
We sing/rap openly about formerly taboo sexual acts, so blatant is the sexuality that we hardly even notice. We actively don’t listen to the words and like the beat. Yeah right, half of yall know way more than the chorus to David Banner’s “Don't Play With Me” song,

Now we select balladeers to croon our scantly clad performers. Lest I speak to quickly for I have never truly been in that situation, I do understand. I don’t fancy the glitter, the musky smelling perfumes, the less than explainable makeup that accompany these pole top performers. I respect the craft. I respect those who do it well. If, you just go out and sweat, “Pop that Thang”, do a split, open your legs and pick up dollars, you are a different breed than which I refer. I am talking to the skill set that makes it clap. A skill set that balances on the pole and performs acrobatic feats previously reserved for the Cirque du Soleil. A skill set that rises or lowers to any occasion to meet and exceed the demands of it varied clientele.

Besides all of that, how many strippers have actually broken up happy homes?

Maybe I judged them to quickly and if is okay, someone has to love Luscious, Mercedes, Porsha, Strawberry, Dark Chocolate, Honey, Lexis, Devine, Destiny, Super-Thick, and Lady ‘T’.

6 Comments:

  • At 8:54 AM, Blogger Serenity23 said…

    How many strippers have broken up happy homes? Hmmm.. Maybe the homes weren't as happy or else there would be no room for the stripper to be invited in.

     
  • At 10:08 AM, Blogger Dee said…

    Too funny!!!

    The songs/lyrics today are just plain GARBAGE!!!!

     
  • At 10:08 AM, Blogger Dee said…

    Too funny!!!

    The songs/lyrics today are just plain GARBAGE!!!!

     
  • At 1:35 PM, Blogger Nikki said…

    Everything is so "in your face" nowadays. Whether it be lyrics or the scantily clad clothing that people wear. There's nothing left to mystery.

     
  • At 1:58 PM, Blogger Icey said…

    This post was hilarous though you proabbly did not mean it to be!

    I have not heard that scripper song you speak of but I can imagine!! I am not a prude by any means but the David Banner song had me straight blushing!!! The songs today are straight gutter trash!! I try to avoid listening to the radio as much as possible!

    Give me for real old school anyday!!!

     
  • At 5:43 PM, Blogger Gunner Kaufman said…

    "A skill set that balances on the pole and performs acrobatic feats previously reserved for the Cirque du Soleil."

    Nice!!!!

    I gave up on music years ago. If it aint as old as me, it takes a lot to grab me.

    As for strippers, Im a leave that alone...

    Not a fan, but...hey...I look at it as research project. For real its all research.

     

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