Lap Dance Refunds

              :: Reader Discretion is Advised ::

Money makes the world go round. It pays the bills. It buys the cars. And it pays for the lap dance at your local strip club. Without it, no one is dancing for you. Money moves those asses the way it moves the world. Round and round to a Ludacris song. Like putting quarters into a horse machine in front of K-Mart to make it jiggle. Or swirl around that greasy pole. 

Don’t laugh.

That leathery tan needs lotion. And that lotion is greasy as hell. Just ask anyone who’s hooked up with a stripper. Or slid down that silver pole. This doesn’t belong to Santa Claus, or does it?

Did someone ask Santa for a Practice Pole this year? Just claim it’s for fitness purposes.

My question now is, how do you get a refund on lap dance? Do you simply fish out your (cheap ass) dollar bills back from that G-String? Do you consult with a lawyer first? Or will the bouncer agree with you that paying Top Dollar to watch the JV perform is downright theft?

Don’t laugh.

When you’re paying Top Dollar, you expect a Top Performance - at least. Refunds should be customary in these situations, and perhaps come with a receipt. This transaction is filed for further review. Refund on lap dance, you better believe it.

Like all products bought and sold, you expect to get your money’s worth. You work hard for that green, and you spend it just as hard. On an ass carved by Crossfit bootcamps in a pair of Inov8s. You should be soo lucky. Those classes aren’t free. Only on the internet. Or in common sense.

Those $20 bills should be falling like feathers from that ass. Crisp and Green, like an autumn rain. The floor should be vibrating with the boom of the bass, and you should be seconds away from having a seizer with all of those florescent green flashing lights in your eyes. You’re an underage drinker who doesn’t know when they’ll get another sip. So soak it up. Ain’t no kennel dog here. You’re in the Matrix, only the floor is sticky enough to keep you grounded. 

Don’t laugh.

The pole and the floor are quite the contrast. One’s slippery with Stripper Juice (purchasable at Wal-Mart for $9.99!), and one is practically coated in glue from an unnamed, and unbranded substance. Hopefully someone’s got the antiseptic wipes at the door. Right next to the shopping carts. Perhaps gloves could be distributed with each purchase of an alcoholic beverage. Blue latex gloves, ready for surgery on the wallet. Those glow in the dark bottles could come with glow in the dark gloves. Or maybe blacks lights have no home in a Strip Club. Drips of love or lust on the floors and the walls.

Round and Round we go. In little circles of an ass shake. No Miley Cyrus. Not You. Save twerking for the clubs. But then again, whoever said the Varsity would be performing? How much do they cost? If you’re coming to a strip club with a bag of change, counting nickels and dimes, you’re bound to get the horsey machine in front of K-Mart. 

But if you make it rain $20s...