The Teaze...

Firstly I must apologise for being totally absent as of late on the blogging world but life is just bloody mental at the moment plus I kinda have the excuse of being on leave (well yes maybe but not really so just nod your heads and forgive this tart, k?!)

Anyhoo, we had Mrs-S's-To-Be's bachelorettes party on Friday - which was a total smash hit, naturally - but the shock of the whole thing wasn't the drinking or strange looks we got from fellow party-goers out on the town that night. Although the looks came from a very conspicuous bunch of people. Actually these individuals, I have decided, are the lowest form of human currently occupying space on my planet! However, I was horrifically educated. This tart is by no means a prude (god forbid) but the shock and pure horror I was exposed to on Friday night was enough fro me to want to buy a Bible!

My little "night of education" started when we decided to take the Mrs-To-Be off to Teaze-Hers for a night of tarty fun with a slight twist of debauchery. Hahahaha. We definitely got more than we bargained for. First of the all, the male strippers are hardly anything to look at and I think that dear old Lolly needs to address this issue if he wants to attract tarts like me. Presently, the clientele consist of fat, old women who are clearly celebrating the joys of being divorced. Nuff said!

But besides the lack of eye candy, the things one can pay these boys to do is just plain sad. Now obviously you have the tame options such as pole dancing, body shots (note to self make sure you wear sexy underwear when this occurs. Lucky for me I was. Also, avoid the short stripper as he tends to get a bit um *cough cough* over-excited - couldn't get the bloody man off me!) and then the usual shows (which brought back ghastly memories of the ladies nights Bourbon Street used to host - gag). The interesting part happens when you are ready to start paying R350 plus. What exactly does R350 buy you, you might ask? Well, this will get you the Full Monty - yip, ball sack and all is what you get. Up and close and personal like. My favourite little package that they have (although this is kept very hush hush and we had to stroke the one stripper's ego to get this outta him) is the option of jerking them off. Oh yes, that's right tarts - for a mere R500 you can jerk some guy off while all your fellow tarts watch. What a fantastic bonding experience. I just couldn't believe it - totally fucking shocked doesn't even begin to cover this... The funniest things is that the booth next to us opted for this little number, whilst some of them were eating as well. Mmmm, yummy. When you order you food from your little "stripper boy" do you ask fro some penis on the side?

At this point I decided it was time to leave as the levels of sad-individuals was now reaching a desperate point. So we paid, thanked all the boys (for god knows what exactly) and then decided to take a looksie at Teazers. After all, it's just hoo-hoo's in small knickers parading around for a whole heap of men, right? Wrong! Now I was one of those tarts who thought Teazers was just a strip club - a totally above the board strip joint and wouldn't have given two fuck's if my boyfriend had gone. Hee hee hee. Fuck me, was I wrong... Teazers is nothing more than a glorified whore house. I still can't decide what stunned me more: the completely starkers tart, spread eagle, fingering herself in front of three male counterparts or the tartier whore on the table next to her, also spread eagle (with all her bits and bobs on show) letting some balding 40+ year old muff dive her! Like I said, glorified fucking whore house!

So after my little investigatory night out, the third deal breaker was born. Any future love interest that even so much as contemplates popping into the Teaze, will find himself swiftly kicked in the balls and told to fuck right off...