Loser Goes To Strip Club For The First Time

So I was sitting at the station last night, with my brother and a buddy of ours when Doug, another friend of ours, came by to hang out with us while we finished our shift. He was talking about going to a bar and drinking. Now, I rarely get out but for some reason I still can't comprehend, I decided to talk Doug into taking me to Diamonds & Laces in Chattanooga, Tennessee. So we go.

We arrive, and I'm nervous as shit. I begin to believe this is a bad idea before we even go in. I soldier on, however, on the sole reason that I might have a funny story to tell, even though it would surely be at my expense. And, it was.

We go in, sit down at the bar. A thick black chick is furiously shaking her ass two feet from the face of a dude that looked like he came straight out of a rap video. He was bobbing his head, almost in rhythm with her ass. We order a pitcher of beer. It is now important to remember in this story that Im not normally a beer drinker- I'm a mixed drink and liquor fanatic. I hate beer. I down half my glass, when another black stripper comes over, and starts talking to my friend. Thirty seconds later, she turns to me, and squeezes in between me and Doug. He scoots down. I begin assuming I've been set up.

*Stripper rubs my leg, my arm, runs hand up my shirt sleeve*

Stripper: Hey baby, how you doin'?

Me: I'm ok. I'm trying to get drunk. You might wanna talk to my buddy though. Im cool for now.

Stripper: Why? Whats the matter honey? You don't like me?

Me: You're ok. Id just rather drink.

*At this point, Im fucking tripping balls. I'm nervous, out of my element, and her face is staring right into mine. Her arm is still snaking up and down my arm. I decide that my low self esteem may come in handy for once, so I start trying to insult my self into her leaving me alone.*

Stripper: So what do you do for fun?

Me: Nothing. I sit at home, and stare at the walls. I don't get out alot.

Stripper: Aw, why not?

Me: Im a loser.

*Im thinking I may just get out of this with that exchange. I am wrong.*

Stripper: I dont think you're a loser. I think you're cute. I like me a nice big man.

*I begin to sense this is going to be harder than I thought*

Me: Trust me, Im boring. But my buddies not getting any attention. Why dont you give him some?

Stripper: I like you..and Id like to get to know you.

*Sidenote, I have been steadily drinking the pitcher by myself the entire time because of my nervousness. I am also chainsmoking. I reach for my cigarettes. Grab my lighter. She takes it from me. I briefly am under the impression she is going to steal it. Instead, she gives me a semi sultry look, and lights it for me.*

Me: Look, to be honest, Im overwhelmed here, and uncomfortable.

Stripper: Well, let me make you comfortable. You wanna go with me? 10 minutes for 2-0. (I assume its 20 dollars for a ten minute dance, but I never intended to find out so truthfully I dont know)

Me: No, Im cool.....hey, what did my friend say to you?

Stripper: He said you were new, and needed attention.

*I now realize my suspicions were correct. He has thrown me to the fucking wolves. Prick.*

Me: Well, look, im really not up for this.

Stripper: Well...ok...but I am being sincere. You really are a nice looking man and dont let anyone tell you different.

*I think, yeah right bitch. You just want my money. She gives me one last smile, then walks off*

I turn to doug.

Me: You're a fucking asshole. I want to go.

Doug: HAHAHAHAHAH! THATS GREAT!

Me: Fuck you.

So, moral of the story: I hate women more than ever now, because it struck me that I have to pay if I want to get a chick naked or to talk to me, and I'm suprisingly resilient enough to not give in to that. I literally felt exploited, oddly enough, as you'd think the ladies were the ones getting the shaft. Not so. They are there to make a living off desperate loners like me. Fuck them.

WWE Tag Champ Solicits Loser For Drugs

Yes, you read right. But lets tell this shit in order.

First off, we had front row seats to the Raw house show. That was awesome as it was.
Featured:

14 man battle royal.

Chris Jericho Vs. Randy Orton World Title Match

Jeff Hardy Vs. Mr. Kennedy Intercontinental Title Match

Paul London & Brian Kendrick vs. Bob Holly and some dude (champs) vs. Terry Murdoch and Lance Cade title match.

Main event, Triple H vs. Umaga Steel Cage Match.

Here are a few photos. All phone pics, but thats all I had to work with.
















After the show, Me and my buddy Anthony were walking back to the car outside the area. We see this really nice caddy pulling out of the bottom ramp, we assume correctly that a wrestler is probably in it.

Thirty Seconds later we look over, and the car has its windows rolled down. A dude is sitting in the passenger seat.

Dude: Hey guys, can we talk to you a minute?

Us: Yeah.

Dude: Ok, we're pulling over.

They stop on the side of the street in a parking spot.

We walk up to the window. We then recognize who it is. Fucking Paul London, two time WWE tag champ, with the longest reigning length of 145 days.

Here is a quick youtube of his highlights in case you still don't know who I'm referring to.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZHUP9zZvf4

(He's the dude with black hair, nice teeth and decent tan)

Us: Hey, great match! You did good. *assorted compliments*

Paul: Thanks, hey thanks.

*At this point we ask him about his chest, because Bob Holly, who is documented as one of the roughest guys in the business, had received a chop from him....then grabbed him and hit him back with six chops, at least that echoed through the entire building. Paul actually lifts his tee shirt. There are red hand prints all over his chest, nearly bleeding.*

Paul: Man it still hurts. But Hey, I don't mean nothing by this, but do you guys know where to get some smoke?

Us: Awww...man, no we only got a half joint.

Paul: Oh if thats all you got, keep it man. We got a pinch, we were looking for about two ounces. We're heading to Atlanta tonight. (Side note: I looked it up, they have another house show there).

This whole time, I was standing there mentally kicking my ass for not having a pen and paper for an autograph. Also I know this is a story to tell, and I definitely wanted proof. Then I remember my aformentioned camera phone.

Me: Hey dude, I know its probably a hassle, but would you take a picture with me?

Paul: Yeah man! Absolutely!

He hops out of the car. Shakes both our hands. Then pounds them. We pose...and heres the shot.





Look at his fingers closely. What does it look like hes holding? A joint. Then look at my thumbs up...almost looks like a bowl I'm holding, but I didnt preplan that, heh.

Us: Thanks, sorry we cant help you man.

Paul: Oh its cool, we were just looking for some for the ride. But i'm sure we'll meet up later sometime...I know that sounds kinda weird haha...

Anthony: Nah, its that weed karma.

All of us laugh.

We go to shake hands one last time. He grabs my arm in what I thought was maybe going to end in a disagreeable fashion like me having a broken bone, but instead was just an indian handshake.

Paul: This is how we do it!

And thats it. What I liked about him was how "real" he seemed- almost more genuine then alot of regular people you run into. I definitely can respect that. But, the other thing I noticed was that this guy had some balls: seriously, he randomly chooses two dudes from the show to ask for weed? I mean, shit, what if one of them wrote a story about it and published it online? That would be fucked up. But then again maybe that fan would give him an out, and cover his tracks by just saying this could all be a made up story by some online blogger looking for attention. Afterall, it's not like Every Loser Had His Day, is it?