The Heart Wants What The Heart Wants (and some other sexy business)

First off, your comments and e-mails on my last post have seriously kept me entertained! I have loved hearing about your embarrassing stories and let me tell you, I think that you're giving me a run for my money when it comes to mortifying situations! I guess the lesson here is that we make it through them and live to tell the tales.

It's been a hard week at the ranch. All on one single day, my car broke down and the internet crashed. Add to that the fact that when we called Comcast to get the internet fixed, they then realized that they'd been giving us free cable for a year and a half and swiftly took it away from us. I admit that they had every right to do so but did they have to snatch it away when I was in the middle of delightfully watching the guy on "My Strange Obsession" who thinks that he's a mermaid?  Mermaid? Merman? Either/or...there was no humanity in the situation. For a couple of days, I had no World Wide Web and nothing but droll network sitcoms, religious broadcasts and home shopping channels to distract myself from the fact that I couldn't drive out of my own yard. It felt like we had suddenly become Amish. We were one power outage and a pig slaughter away from living in "Frontier House".

But in good news.....Spring is bursting out all over in Tennessee and my neighbors are out in full force. Out of one pollen coated window, I can see one of them picturesquely swinging her curly headed toddler on a tire swing (aww!) and out another, a man is breaking up a dog fight with the spray from a garden hose while screaming at the top of his lungs. Ahh....Spring. Achoo! I'm happily about to get away from here for a bit but I do hope that your weekend is a good one, full of all the things that you desire! In related news,  I'm not sure that I've ever seen a list of desires so eloquently stated as they are in this Craigslist ad looking to trade out some unwanted floor mats:

"....you can trade me for something if you like. I like goats, fireplace tools, 

broken  deep freezers with the seal still intact..."

If taken out of context, wouldn't that make for the creepiest personal ad ever ?  Back before I started saving screenshots of strange Craigslist ads, I found one where this guy was trading something that I can't remember and he had this huge long list of specific VCR tapes and flavors of soups that he'd like to get in return. Dozens and dozens of them - and he was totally serious too. It's funny when we think about the things that make us different - including what our desired items are. One woman's grilled cheese sandwiches and tacky squirrel knick-knacks are some other guy's video tapes and condensed canned soups... The heart wants what the heart wants.

Speaking of desires,  this post is about to get scan-da-lous. 

"Now wait a minute, y'all....This blog ain't for everybody...only the sexy people!" 

Am I dating myself with that song reference?  Anyhoo....I recently came across the funniest strip club review.

Don't you just love that he's concerned about her sciatica? It's those stripper heels, I tell ya! No good can come of them! Barbie, get yourself a pair of Crocs and never look back!

You're probably asking yourself why I was looking up reviews for strip clubs. I stumbled upon that gem while googling how to correctly spell "deja vu" and well, that just also happens to be the name of one of Nashville's finest naked-lady-dancing venues. The review linked to the club's website and there I  learned that their interior is "a relaxing atmosphere that you could almost call home". Oh, I highly doubt that!

They also brag that many of our local university coeds work there when classes are out. Ugh. It beats Fuddruckers, I guess. If you'd like the advice of a middle-aged lady who doesn't go to strip clubs, I'd say to save your money for the next time that this little gal comes to town.  I don't know how often she performs but I imagine that viewing her act would be much akin to the rarity and beauty of viewing Halley's Comet.

I have received no word back yet from her publicist on how her sciatic nerve is faring these days but she's a mighty cute little cop. I read in my "research" that she used to do an act with her daughter but they pretended that they were sisters. I'm trying not to dwell on that one for too long as genealogy has never been my strong-suit. I also learned that her sister/daughter got injured and had to quit the act. After reading about her and poor Barbie with the sciatica, I'm starting to wonder how many strippers go on disability from working the pole. I'm also wondering if my millions might finally be made by creating a line of sexy yet orthopedic stripper heels. The mind reels. Next time you see me I'll be on "Shark Tank" presenting that idea to the panel. 

So okay, back to Deja Vu. I also  found another curious review of the place that was about a yard long and included this nugget of knowledge:


".... a friend of mine and her guy friend from National Public Radio are in town and he wants to go to a t***y bar. I have no huge objections as he's offering to pay and I don't care I'm just hanging out. I watch roughly $600 of money donated to NPR go into stripper's hands..."


Yeah, right! I'm sure that National Public Radio has so much extra money that they don't notice when their employees take hundreds of dollars and squander them on lap dances!  I also viewed some surprisingly tame but rewardingly hilarious photos in their employee gallery including the funniest one of the girls on a pool table that I will not post here. The last thing that I want is to be sued by a strip club for defamation of character. If that's possible. I also made a five second foray over to their Facebook page to try and find other great quotes before remembering that Facebook tells everyone we know about everything that we do - so more than likely everyone now thinks that I was strip club shopping for the weekend. GREAT.

Huh! I totally never expected to do a post on strip clubs. As a habit, before publishing each new blog post, I always critique what I've just written with "What if I die tomorrow? If this happens to be my last post will I be okay with that? Could this be my literary legacy? "  I think that my standards are completely slipping. Or maybe the questions that I usually ask myself are just drowned out by the din of "Welcome To The Jungle" that has been playing in my head since I started this post. I think I once saw a stripper dance to that song on "The Sopranos" and now I imagine that all strippers dance to that one song.

If I do pass on to the great honky tonk in the sky before my next post, someone please log on under my name and do a post about the favored snacks of Little Jimmy Dickens or something. And in lieu of flowers, please send your tribute donations to National Public Radio. I'd love to be a part of the beautiful circle of moneymaker-shakin' life that made this post possible.

Okay buckaroos...I hope that you have a great weekend and take Mama Eartha's advice: Save those singles for the ice cream truck!

Until next time,
x's and o's,
Eartha