Tuesday, March 22, 2011

What Did I Expect? It Was a Novel Called "Freedom," After All

I'm listening to Jonathan Franzen's novel Freedom on CD lately...and, well, as I type this I realize that I just have to stop listening to it. Mindless DJ bullshit chatter and tunes with commercials or random right wing talk nonsense is just as good as spending time on Freedom. But if I persist with the novel, I get to have that stupid fantasy that it might get better. The really dumbass thing is that I already did that with a Richard Russo novel called Bridge of Sighs, and it Never. Got. Better. Part of it is the reader's fault--the way he reads everything in a sarcastic and/or pissed off tone is grating in the extreme. But really he wuz prolly just going with what he thought (rightly) wuz Franzen's sarcastic and/or pissed off tone.

Now, tho', at long last, I really do want to meet Oprah. I want to axe her, "What THE FUCK? How is this one of your book club picks? Did you ever consider telling people that they should avoid certain books? If so...dear God, woman...why wouldn't you tell them to never ever fucking read Jonathan Franzen's Freedom?" But here we are in the Twilight Zone of literature: not only is the book not reviled, but people are told to read it by many book reviewers and it wuz put on best of the year lists for 2010...and it's even mentioned reverently as the possible new Great American Novel.

I give up on "serious" novels. "Serious" is apparently code for boring as fuck.

Sunday, March 06, 2011

It's Showtime!

So I finally went to that Hollywood Show Club, which is always advertised in the RFT as "one of the top ten strip clubs in America." I think RFT put it at #1 for our area. Anyway, before that, I wasted a 4 dolla cover charge at some dump down the street from HSC...a joint called "Miss Kitty's." Oh, and long before that, I'd had a beer at the Imperial strip club whose name I can never remember. At 5:00, they didn't even pretend to be anything other than just a bar. Miss Kitty's might have had pretenses of being more, but their two stages were so poorly lit that I vamoosed outta there after just one beer.

But ah, the Show Club: now this is a strip club done right. The music was still just barely a little too loud for Yers Trooly, but it's truly amazing that they didn't follow the rule of Every Other Strip Club Ever: do whatever you can to make sure your customers go deaf from loud noise exposure (Which is weird. Don't they need to negotiate shit...lap dances, champagne room visits, illegal sexy-sex? How can they do that efficiently with "More Human Than Human" cranked to 11?). at a level that doesn't require ear plugs? Check. HSC is off to a good start. But oh, what about the ten dollar cover charge? Well, it's steep...but weren't you going to have to peel off at least ten ones in all those no cover joints to tip the begging strippers? That...or be thought of as an asshole? Yes, and here's crazy, fuck-the-rules approach number two at HSC: apparently, the strippers have been told not to go around, hitting up the customers a dollar at a time, at the end of each dance. You can go up to the stage to cop a feel or get your face rubbed a bit in tits and sometimes ass...and I suppose it's sorta expected you'll pay a buck for that privilege. But I certainly didn't see everyone forking over that buck.

Here's the other kicker: this place is so massive, that it's got four stages going at the same time--all with decent to high quality strippers constantly shaking their groove thang. Don't like Stripper A? Look over to your left and there's Stripper B. Don't like her, either? Then stroll down the way a bit and get a gander at Stripper C (I never really saw the Stripper D stage, cuz it wuz in a small room that wuz set apart from the main room--not sure why, except maybe there wuz another cover for that room or somethin'). And I know this sounds crazy, but almost all the strippers looked happy! Oh, and I stayed there for nearly two hours, I think, and never saw the same stripper twice. What the fuck is up with this place? They must really kill on those private dances, cuz otherwise that's a lot of overhead and pricey flesh, and I can't imagine the 10 dolla cover goes that far. Finally, speaking of private dances...well, I can't, because I wuz too sick from my fucking cold to really do more than slump down in one of those couches about ten feet from the stage, nurse my beer, and just watch. Didn't even get my face ass-slammed!

Unfortunately, one other way they make their $$$ at HSC is with the overpriced drinks. 7 bucks for a bottle of Bud. Yikes--that's ballpark prices. But I don't go to the ballpark to drink, and I don't go to a strip club to drink a whole lot. Sure, if the drink prices aren't two outrageous, I'll knock back four or five beers. However, I'd rather just nurse one or two beers the whole time and have a bunch of hot strippers to gaze at then get wasted and look at the rejects at Club Imperial (finally, there's the name of that lameass joint). Besides, the overpriced drinks are at least served to you by waitresses who also look like strippers (maybe they are...and it's their off night?)...and they parade around in bikini bottoms!

As for all the little shit--good lighting, parking, security, and reasonably clean bathrooms--HSC gets it done there, too. Oh, and if yer totally bored, they serve food...which must at least be edible given the joint's obviously high standards.

Just don't expect them to have a dollar menu.