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  • City Pages

    Michele Bachmann, Unmuzzled

    You don't need to read Sarah Palin's book to hear the ravings of a mad woman.

    By Matt Snyders

  • Miami New Times

    Pimp Daddy

    The rise and fall of a chubby sex-cult leader.

    By Natalie O'Neill

  • Riverfront Times

    Babe 'n' Arms

    Tom was a hot-tempered cross-dresser with a garage full of guns--and then he became Rachel.

    By Nicholas Phillips

  • Dallas Observer

    The Fight for Texas

    Rick Perry and Kay Bailey Hutchison are locked in a battle over the soul of the GOP. They're also running for governor.

    By Sam Merten

Hoochie Mommies

Novice pole kittens seduce the steel

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By Clay McNear

Published on April 19, 2007

Somewhere in TV Land, Madge the Manicurist is soaking some poor sap's digits in Palmolive and claiming the stuff softens your hands while you do the dishes. Vile propaganda! The odious chemical compound is slowly eating away your paws, though rotting extremities are the least of your worries. Your kids are brats. You drive a Kia minivan. Your husband . . . don't go there. It's time to shake the apron shackle, slip on some pasties, and take that still-hot bod out for a spin at the weekly Pole Dancing Amateur Night competition. The contest offers slumming mommies, de-bunned librarians, wayward nuns -- pretty much anyone who's not ugly as dirt -- the chance to make it rain 250 clams by seducing the steel for a slobbering throng of leering Larrys -- which, you note, includes your stinking, rat-bastard husband. The bun-clapping begins at 12:30 a.m.
Thursdays, 2006