What are friends for?

Went of town this weekend to visit a kid I worked with over the summer and attend a football game. The weekend is pretty much what you would expect. There was a lot of drinking. I gave some shit to a guy on a street corner playing guitar and he called me an "asshole." There was the cab ride from hell back to my friend's place on Saturday night because neither my friend nor the cabbie could figure out where the hell we were supposed to go.

There was waking up at nine on Sunday, after four hours of sleep, and immediately cracking a beer. There was the cab ride to the pre-game bar where the cabbie called me a "vagina." The bar had the nicest bathroom I have ever been in, which is impressive considering it was a football Sunday. Then the game. Which was great, even with the $7 beers and 90 degree heat. Then there was some shit bar, which was quickly followed by a trip back to my friend's place to recover (mmmm, black coffee) and watch the Packers.

Even when you factor in the the Cubs getting swept on Saturday night (which resulted in more drinking than it should have) and the Packers loss on Sunday night (nolo perfecto), it was still a good weekend.

However, Monday around 1:30 a.m. it became great. Probably one of the best weekends ever. I should write to VH1 and try to get consideration.

See, after the Packers game we went to a strip club. Which, in and of itself, is really not that impressive, but we went because my friend's girlfriend wanted to go. She had never been before (to be fair, this was only my third trip (total, not just to this location)). We eventually got there (the story of how we got there is one for another day), and it was surprisingly pretty empty. I guess most people work on Mondays or something. They did have beer though. $1 for a cup. Free refills. And the cover was only $20. Not a bad deal. Figure three beers and I am even with what I paid at the game. But that is not the story.

The girlfriend had to get acquainted first. The two of them sat next to the stage while I hung back at the tables (all the view, none of the annoying expectation of money or talk). They come back over to me and are talking with a girl and want me to come up and get lapdances with them (not really with them, you know, I know you do). I do not really like lap dances (let us just say I do not gamble for the same reason I do not go to strip clubs), but I made a big deal about not wanting to get one, and yada yada. After getting the stink eye from them, I ran away to get a beer. But, I had a plan. The stripper girl they liked was over there, and when I went for my beer I asked her if she would do me a favor. She readily complied.

After the stripper grabbed her hot friend, the five of us headed to the "special room" (I would not call it VIP). So we get there, I hand over the money, and the strippers wisk the girlfriend away. My poor friend, a little slow on the uptake, was unable to understand for a minute why he was not getting lap dance.

Then he understood, and walked over for the close-up of two naked girls grinding on his girlfriend. I swear the smile on his face moved each of his ears back an inch.

But the best part, the girlfriend came back and said, "Oh my god! They touched my boobs in a way that I did not think they could be touched. I am a little wet right now." Then, sheepishly, "And I am not wearing panties."

I am a good friend.