Last night I got to experience another piece of American culture: The Strip Club.
In honor of my friend Luca’s birthday, we partied the night away starting with tapas at Arpa, drinks at Tilt, then some more drinks and some dancing at HoM (I love that place for playing something else than just hiphop/rap) before heading to The Men’s Club. We were a nice group of 3 drunk guys and 2 drunk girls so we had fun. Apparently you go there to have breakfast not to see the girls. Sure….
I have to say I was curious about the place. Rumors had it the breakfast buffet is the best in town. So we’re here in the south and the lady at the cash register perfectly fit the category Southern Belle. Blonde, maybe in her 40s, long hair and she called me Sweetie. Haha! Very nice. So we get seated and get some drinks (water for me at that point….). It was a very classy setting. Totally reminded me of the hotels in Las Vegas. Comfy chairs, nice lightning, nice bar. Around us, the employees were jiggling their behinds and breasts in middle aged gentlemen’s faces and did some artistic stretching exercises. Interesting outfits, too, ranging from strings to weird body coverings and then of course the obligatory stripper shoes. Ha! The plateau soles made their high heeled shoes not that high heeled anymore, like max. 4cm! That’s nothing! Explains why they can still dance on them… haha! Not to mention that I bet they make great self defense weapons.
So we grabbed our plates and headed to the buffet after deciding that strippers don’t have any other bodies than we do – like they’re not all with gigantic breasts and some of their abs are not that great either. So we figured we might as well stuff ourselves with a high calorie breakfast seeing that we were drunk anyway. Nice selection of eggs, bacon, eggs benedict (the best I’ve ever had!!), pancakes fruits etc etc and even custom made omelettes! Soooooo good! I think I’ll totally go back there just to eat that breakfast again. It’s a shame they close at 5am, they should totally stay open until 10am so you could eat a real breakfast and not just some filling for the drunk stomach. Oh well. I guess I couldn’t stomach all the almost naked women around me when not impaired so maybe it’s good that they’re not open during the day…. Although it felt so professional, that you really didn’t mind the nakedness around you. Kind of like at the gynecologist, it’s just professionalism, not anything sexual. I think the middle aged balding men were more disgusting than the ladies…
And what a nice ending, we left and the valet parking guy called a town car for us. Ah yeah so classy. 😉

So my nice day on Tuesday turned kind of nasty later on. I was at my friend Vanessa’s house for a dinner party / skin care party (think tupperware), which was fun and she had so much yummy food!
I walk back out to the parking lot and uhm well, it was empty! No car in sight! =-o. Ahhhhhh! So I lost my car. Well, worse, so I lost my company’s car! Ahhhhhhhhhhh! And what do you do at 10pm to find your car?! OK so granted I hadn’t parked in a real parking spot (cause that neighborhood doesn’t have any) but it wasn’t a completely illegal spot either. I would call it gray parking area but it sure was the most legal spot anywhere around there and I wasn’t blocking anybody or fire trucks throughway or whatnots). After a bit of frantic worrying and visuals of me sitting on the street and getting the rage of an Italian boss cursing at me, thankfully Vanessa’s roommate told us where to find the towing company’s phone number and that they tow like crazy in that neighborhood because some miserable punk calls the towing company all the time. Awww shucks!
I called the towing company and yes, they had in fact towed a silver Golf that night and no I could not get it back that night (whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!) but would have to come in the morning and no he wouldn’t give me directions either but I should bring a ransom of 120$ to get the car back sound and alive. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!
Vanessa drove me home and then David came over (and it was after 11 already then) so I was very lucky. Through some investigation (thank you google) I found the towing yard’s address and it wasn’t that far away at all.
At the crack of dawn (ok so more like at 8) David and I set out to rescue Golfie. We drove through some sketchy streets and thanks to my impeccable sense of direction (or was it a car mommy’s instincts?!) we found the place, knocked on their dingy door, handed over the ransom, and rescued Golfie from the sketchy impound yard. That poor thing was so cold, its windshield was covered with dew. I was overjoyed to have it back and got to work only 20 minutes late. Not too bad and the boss wasn’t there yet so it’ll remain our little secret (not that I think he cares, he would probably laugh since I got the car back but it saved me from some embarrassment. Well, plus I let him eat my chocolate so he can’t say anything anyway. I knew a little food bribery here and there can’t hurt. ;-)).
So yeah, all is well in the end but I was a little freaked out to say the least ;-). Thank God for guys that drive 30 minutes to comfort you and protect you when you bail out your car from the ghetto.