Deja Vu

My friend found this place on a strip club directory. Men, they know about these things. Apparently Deja Vu was the top-rated titty bar in Louisville, so of course, being classy creatures, we decided to give it a try. I think when we saw a tow truck in the parking lot as we pulled up, we should have gotten a clue. Or maybe when the surly door guy informed us that there is no discount for ladies.

Sorry, WHAT? I am a goddamn lady. I see boobs and ass and vagina EVERY DAY. I should get in for free or cheap, but fine. Fine. Fine. We found the bar, which is located directly next to where the classy ladies were shaking their money makers. The strip club and bar feature a scenic view of a busy road and a used car lot, by the way.

The frantic bartender with giant boobies and a tragic methface made me a STRONG drink. She forgot to give my friend his because she was too busy making out with another bartender. When we finally got her to come out of her speed haze for a moment, she fetched him a drink and gave them to us on the house. Which was really nice.

But onto the sexy stuff:

Nothing is sexier than overhearing strippers talk about their children.

Wait! Two strippers softly embracing while one whispers, "Shh, it's okay. A couple of other girls got beaten up earlier, too." THAT is a panty-creamer right there.

Or the morbidly obese patrons, sidling up to the young and obviously drug-addicted dancers....That could be what seals the deal, right there.

But then again, hearing a half-naked girl even younger than myself talk about how she believes in God despite her grandmother and her best friend dying recently....And then asking an old fat man if he wants to take her on a "date"....Um, that's pretty erotic, too.

Come here if you want to cry.