That title is specially for Avitable – so the portion of this post about boobs is dedicated to Adam.

I had a weekend full of boobies.  Friday night was J’s birthday, and the last thing we did for the night was go to a strip club.  I think it was called Silver City.  Anyway, I’m so sorry, but I was expecting much better boobs than what we got.  Some of the girls were kind of flabby with smallish tits which did nothing for me (or for D for that matter – we were critiquing).  The ones with big boobs either also had big asses or those really giant pancake type nipples.  Uh, no thanks.  (I’m sure that Adam at this point is going, “Gee thanks for the boobs post.  This sucks ass.”)  There were a couple that were cute with nice bodies and decent boobs, but they were few and far between.  The best looking one had a top on.  My question, of course, was this:  When these girls interview, do they have to show their tatas, and if so, are some of them told, “No, those will not see the light of day.  You will wear a top.”  We’ve decided that when we go to a strip club for part of D’s going away party, we will find a better one.  I asked my ex-husband to ask his dad for recommendations.  D was like, “I’m glad you can ask your ex these questions!” 

More boobs were seen on Sunday, but they were more dressed.  Man-Friend (stop laughing Adam) came over, and both of us were starving.  We also both wanted junky food, so we decided on shitty bar food, and therefore went to Hooters.  Okay, so my idea of shitty bar food is a cheeseburger.  M-F’s idea was far junkier.  We had chicken strips (fried and coated in hot sauce), shrimp (also fried and coated in hot sauce), onion rings (um, yes, also fried, but not in hot sauce), and M-F also ordered a Chili Cheese Death Dog with fries.  We had beer too (Coors Light for him and Corona Light for me – really, light beer?  Was that remotely necessary at this point?)  We told the waitress we were trying to get fat in one sitting.  I think we succeeded.  We ate everything except for three of the onion rings.  M-F was quite distressed, saying, “We left men behind.  You never leave men behind!”  I was like, “Dude, I am going to throw up from this as it is.  No more onion rings.”  As far as the boobs went, they were nicer at Hooter’s than at the strip club.  Of course they were supported by bras at Hooter’s, and I think they always look nicer in a bra – more shapely anyway.

Anyway, we went back to my house and promptly fell asleep with stomachs full of grease.  Needless to say, I woke up with a hell of a headache and needed to puke desperately, but couldn’t.  So I just stayed on the couch moaning while M-F slept some more.  Later we watched something on the Military Channel about the Israeli army which I think was really interesting.  They are not fucking around there, that’s for sure.  Oh, we also saw something on Animal Planet (I think) about the wildlife around Chernobyl.  That was fascinating.  I was expecting the area to be completely dead and devoid of life, but you would not believe how green everything was.  Nature will win out, that’s for sure.  When we got up this morning, I still wanted to yak, but didn’t.  This is how I keep up the super-long non-pukeage streaks – a complete inability to barf even when I really want to.  I refuse to stick my fingers down my throat to help out.  That’s just cheating and can ruin a perfectly good streak.  My poor tummy just does not know what to do with shitty bar food, but I’m feeling much better now.

Now for some skating stuff:  I have made a coaching decision.  I’m going with Nick Traxler for dance (you can google him – I’m not linking because nobody from the rink needs to find this site!  They all think I’m sweet and innocent, heh!) and J for Moves in the Field.  I need to take a bunch of Moves tests, and he’s really good at explaining them and correcting them.  I just can’t use him for dance because of the partnering.  He freaks me out.  So D is going to talk to Nick for me.  I just couldn’t take all the questions anymore, and it was really uncomfortable for me to know other coaches were going to approach me, especially the ones who aren’t even dance coaches (I was told this was about to happen).  I was like, wtf?  You can’t teach me this stuff.  Toepicker, whatever.

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