Private Dancer

I was standing outside the Fitzpatrick with Ms. Faverty the other night (was having congratulatory drinks with co-workers...more on that in a bit) when we were approached by a man. He's short, Hispanic, kind of has that Miami spiked hair look and he says to us, "can I ask you ladies a question?" Does he want a smoke? Does he want directions? No. No he does not.

"I am supposed to dance for some girls tonight and I was just wondering if you thought these were sexy."

At that point he pulls up the side of his shirt and reveals a black thong. I kind of giggle a little bit, Carrie too, and we both say, "yeah. that's fine." So he then goes off on this whole thing about how he just moved here from Miami (I was right!) and how he is trying to make money and that if we knew of anyone who needed a DANCER (seriously... a dancer?) that we should tell him and THEN. THEN. Then he turns around and lifts up the back of his shirt to reveal even more of his thong to us and says, "so you think this is ok?" and I just lose it and start laughing and actually shock him with how hard I'm laughing and I say, "yes. yes. THAT WILL DO." And he kind of looks at us with this weird look and then says, "well ok. so... I mean do you girls want my number just...in case?"

Just in case? Just in case we need a male dancer?

I mean of all the jobs you could do in NY the one that seems the least in demand is male dancer. Right after million-dollar high five machine and herpes distributor.

So... I mean this guy was clearly prepositioning us for sex, right?

I thought so too!!

Anyway, it was one of the weirdest things that's happened to me in a while so it sparked my old, dusty brain to want to blog again.

Ehn, I changed my mind on elaborating for now. In due time my pretties.

Now I must sleep! I spent all day rearranging my room! IT'S AWESOME!

Love,

Glennis