There are three things I know for sure in this world.
1. Electricity travels in a closed path.
2. Water seeks its own level.
3. Strippers are fucking crazy.
My father taught me things one and two. Number three I discovered on my own.
I've met only one non-crazy dancer in my life. And even she was a little eccentric.
But there is one dancer I..well, I don't exactly KNOW her, since I've spoken to her exactly twice...but every time I go out I seem to run into her. She takes the crazy to a whole new level. She is to Crazy Strippers what King Kong is to gorillas.
Saturday I was out with my friend LURCH (not his real name). Super Crazy was there pulling her usual Super Crazy stuff: making out with other women, throwing drinks, and generally behaving like Britney Spears without the talent (**).
Lurch is a pretty cool guy. He likes to punch people in the chest and call them douchebag. I call him Rock because he carries himself with an unshakeable sense of strength and purpose. People are drawn to his strength, conviction, and take-charge aura, which I find hilarious because three-quarters of the time the stuff he's talking about makes no sense (***).
Anyway, late in the evening while I was chatting with Steve Rivers and Phil La Fon (AKA Phil LaFleur AKA Dan Kroffat), Super Crazy came by crying. Lurch--who finds Super Crazy strangely compelling--grabbed her, comforted her, and offered her a ride home.
The next day I called Lurch up and asked him what happened.
Here's the short version.
Crazy Stripper Drama, M*****f****er!"
There were a few more details, but that's Lurch's story, and you'll have to ask him about it. It's a good one though. Buy him a drink and he'll tell you. Then he'll punch you in the chest and call you a douchebag.
(*)I see her every time I go out at various bars across the city. I was going to say she spends way too much time at the bar, but then I think about what that says about me, and I decided not to. I've lost a lot of things at the bar, but my sense of irony is not one of them (****--yes I know I'm footnoting a footnote).
(**) I know, I know.
(***) Actually, he kind of reminds me of Paul Sveen.
(****--yes I know I'm footnoting a footnote) Which makes it very hard to fit in at some clubs. Booze is very popular at clubs. Irony...not so much. They should have a sign or something that says "No Knives, No Guns, No Irony."