That said, it turned out that checking out the grub at Christie's Cabaret may well have been one of Bite Me's worst ideas yet. No, no, no. It's not that the food was bad. In fact, if you can believe it, the food was pretty damn good. But the whole m.o. of this column is to accost diners after they've eaten and are leaving a restaurant. Yet, go figure, the guys leaving a strip club are none too eager to have their photo snapped. In fact, the guys she approached practically slapped her and ran away hiding their faces. Bite Me has to assume that some of these fellas had chicks at home who thought their men were shooting pool with their friends rather than stuffin' dollar bills into the g-strings of luscious babes. And she can't blame 'em. They didn't go there for the food, no matter how spicy the chicken wings.
Oh, well, screw them. Bite Me still adored the place. This past Thursday, Bite Me paid her seven bucks and found a table near the front stage. Hot chicks? You bet your tight ass! Great food? Oh yeah! Your horny host ordered a drink and some spinach and artichoke dip and drank in the beautiful betties struttin' their stuff. Tanned, gorgeous, shapely hotties were plentiful.
One sexy blonde kept circling Bite Me and her buddy until your ever-lovin' host finally convinced her pal to fork over the cash for a private dance. He didn't regret it. This über-babe flaunted her tight abs and gorgeous legs as she grinded away, all too aware that she had the goods and was happy to share. Bite Me appreciated the glint in her eye as she sashayed away, knowing that she'd left behind a happy man in a state of, er, tension.
Bite Me: What brings you here tonight, darlin'? (Thomas had no interest in being interviewed by Bite Me after his evening out at Christie's Cabaret. Only after convincing us to skip the photo session was he open to interrogation. Hey, ya gotta give the guy credit for his honesty and going on the record, even if he didn't flaunt his mug.)
Thomas: I'm getting married next month.
Bite Me: Whoa, buster, you're sure gettin' a jump on things, aren't ya? You've got a bit of time 'til you walk down the aisle.
Thomas: Yeah, but, um, my friend, my best friend, told me that since he got married last summer he gets laid about twice a month. And his wife used to be really hot. And she has totally porked out. I've seen her and she has gotten fat. He's depressed. My girlfriend is hot now, but I'm totally stressed. But she's hot. I met this chick here tonight and she was so fine. She looked like a chick out of a magazine and she was so sexy and she was fun, fun like chicks are when they're single. It totally got me hot. But I know I'm gonna be depressed later.
Bite Me: Wow. You're depressing me. Why don't you tell your girlfriend what you're afraid of so she knows that a tight ass is key to keeping her man? If you lay out the rules up front, she's sort of bound to 'em, isn't she?
Thomas: Oh, GOD, I can't tell her I was here. She'd kick my ass. She won't even let me subscribe to Hustler.
Bite Me: Listen, dude, you've got problems. Hangin' at a strip club shouldn't be heavy. It should be just a fun release for a night. As I told one of my friends at his bachelor party. They'll always be here, hot and sexy young chicks who make you feel like a stud. You can always come back.
Thomas: You're right.
Bite Me: More than you know.
Bite Me: This is a dumb question, but, do you like working here?
Keith: It definitely beats working a desk job.
Bite Me: Do you feel protective of the chicks?
Bite Me: They're not objects, dammit.
Keith: Absolutely. And you have to be together, have something in your back pocket to get in here. A table dance is 10 dollars. You can't get anything more than a lap dance. We're restricted somewhat because we serve alcohol.