I'm not speechless often, so when it happens, listen up.

To my parents, if you are reading this: I'm sorry if what I'm about to write upsets you. It upset me, too.

I went out with some girl friends tonight, thought it'd be AWESOME to hit a male strip club in my area. Let me preface this blog by stating two very unequivocal facts about myself: 1) I don't like being touched. 2) I REALLY don't like being touched by strangers. You will never see me in a crowded mall at Christmas. Why? Too much touching by too many strangers. Let me begin:

It started with dinner: Delicious. We go to the "club." $20 to get in. I twitch as I hand my money over; I work pretty damn hard to give up $20 at the door, but hey...good times are to be had, right?? I'll go with the flow.

We get inside, and the first guy out on stage is (surprise!!!) a police officer. Then the real show starts. Some bachelorette gets dragged on stage and he does some ghastly stuff to her; things involving handstands and faux oral sex, not to mention all the dry humping and even boob-grabbing. And the whole time, this chick is "acting" like she doesn't like it. Little does she know at that same moment her beloved fiancee is probably getting a blow job in the champagne room of a strip club somewhere across town. At which point, I figured out some major differences between male strip clubs and female strip clubs:

1. Male strip clubs do not put on airs. Unlike females strippers, who pretend to be in school and to like you, with the dudes, there's no acting. They are there to be sexual and to get paid; you are there to give them money. There's no chit chat. There's only dick in your face (in some cases, quite literally). Pay up and move on.

2. Women bring cameras. Women feel the need to document their girlfriend's bachelorette party with a million pictures...yes, even those of the blushing bride getting faux-gang-banged on a table. She'll make a great wife some day! Guys, however, don't want proof. They know better.

3. Male strippers have retard strength. I couldn't help but notice that 95% of the women who got "private" dances (aka, dances on stage) were over 200 lbs. Yet, these guys picked them up, twirled them like batons and performed some of the raunchiest pseudo-sex acts I have ever seen, some even with the women being held upside down (and yes, I've watched Cinemax at 3AM on a Saturday night). Even though I was disgusted, I was impressed they could pull that off.

4. We all know that dudes like school girls. Apparently, in pseudo-sex world, women like mechanics...even when said mechanic is dry humping a tire on stage. ??? I just don't get it. Obviously, he's not very good at his job. He doesn't even know what do to with a TIRE. But it got the women hootin' and the show went on.

So now it's MY turn.

Dancer # 1 is dry humping a girl about 2 feet away from me. When he gets done, I can't help but notice he shifts a bulge in his boxer-briefs from his ass to the side. Hmmm...weird. He sees me looking at him, mistakes my look for interest and starts squiggling around me. I hand him a dollar (literally...I HAND it to him), and he keeps doing whatever it is he thinks is thrilling me. At this point I recognize his "cologne." It's "Heaven," by Victoria's Secret. I own it. He's wearing it. How bizarre is this dance becoming? I yell above the music, "What does your tattoo mean?" but he doesn't respond (see above - no chit chat). I can't help but think how gross and sweaty he is...and how he's wearing a woman's scented lotion. A minute later, he's done acting like a dying fish near me and my friends come over, hysterically laughing. My one bud points out that my shirt is unbuttoned a bit more than when I first came out tonight. Holy shit. I was so distracted by how alternate-universe it all was, I totally missed the fact he unbuttoned my shirt. Double EWWW.

An hour later I go to the ladies room. I come back and my friends are giggling. Suspicious. Two seconds later, the DJ guy comes over. I'm like, "Hey, what's up?" What's UP, is that he starts trying to do stripper-grinding things on me. He's fully clothed and I'm fully freaked out. All I remember, is at one point I yelled to him, "Does your mother know you do this?" shortly thereafter my dance is over. Big shock there. My friends are slightly confused. They say, "You agreed with us earlier that he was cute!" I said, "You should've asked for more details. That guy reminds me of MY YOUNGER COUSIN." Gasps all around, no one makes eye contact, and they paid him $20 to freak me out on a thousand different levels. It worked. Well done, girls. With friends like these, who needs enemies?

So that was my night, and I have survived. If nothing else, I've learned something I already knew, but never really got to prove in real life:

You want to turn me on? Throw a guy on stage who will cook me dinner. Show me someone who will make me laugh over something absolutely stupid. Put a guy in front of me who will give me a ginormous bear hug after a shitty day at work. But don't put a guy on stage in a mechanic's uniform dry-humping a tire, because that's just going to make me want to change my own oil.

And yet, guys still dig school girls. Some things are not meant to be understood.

Go ahead. Click on the pictures. Make 'em big. You know you want to.

I am not a homophobe! I think gay people are cute!

Okay, I've been called out as being a big homophobe...maybe not a hate monger, but up there in the same part of the bleachers. I have to say, the accusation hurt. It hurt me like an Elton John concert in the rain.

Allow me to clear my name (which, by the way, is a combination of Serbian words meaning, "That who is of natural sexual orientation.")

I think gay people are cool. I watch them on TV like, all the time. I've even heard that the ground-up bones from gay men can cure cancer, and the mere touch of a lesbian can make crying babies smile.

Okay, but seriously. I feel really bad that all gay men have AIDS. I mean, it's not their fault, ya know? Well, maybe if they didn't do so many illegal drugs and hang out in ratty clubs, trying to have sex with strangers all the time...but hey, it's what they do. It's their gay nature. And lesbos? I wish I had the guts to get a buzz cut! How cute is that style??

Cut me some slack people. I love gays. Just the other day, I saw a big ol' bull-dyke in Macy's. She was in the jewelry department. I figured I'd help her out, because really, what do bull-dykes know about woman-things, right?

I stood next to her at the necklace case and said, "Oh, are you buying this for your sister?" She said, "No, it's for my partner." I said, "Maybe you should just get her gloves. Wearing dangly jewelry on construction sites could be dangerous...it might snag on a tool or something."

She looked at me and said, "I'm a nurse and my girlfriend teaches 10th grade Latin. Why would you assume we were construction workers?"

I laughed and pointed out that everyone knows all lesbians are construction workers. I told her I appreciated her gesture of the 'cover' jobs so that I could relate to her on a heterosexual level and not have to step outside my social comfort zone. I mean, how nice was that?

She got really mad. I don't know why. At first I thought she was PMS-ing it, but then I remembered that lesbians don't get PMS. So I guess she was in a bad mood or something. Needless to say, I got out of there in two shakes of an angry lesbian's mullet.

You see straight friends, I obviously don't have a problem with gay people. I barely even notice if a guy is wearing leather pants with platform shows and a fishnet tank top! People automatically think just because I'm from a small town in the Northeast that I don't like people who are not-like-me. So untrue. I love all people...gay, straight, black, white, Asian, half-Asian, partially Mexican, slightly retarded, mostly retarded, blind, deaf, deaf in one eye, blind in one ear...

Uh, yeah. So there. I'm a lover of everyone, which shames my family. But I do it anyway.

The End (jerks).

If you can't be kind, be vague.

I just finished an article about how women aren't necessarily "pre-programmed" into hetero- or homo- sexuality from birth; that we can 'change our minds' throughout the course of our lives. Men seem to be programmed, however, and there's even some research to show that gay men actually have a mutuated X chromosome. But women?? Not so much. Yes, it seems the feminist movement has officially made it into sex. First the right to vote. Then that whole burning bra thing. And now the right to flip-flop in between men and women and dammit, we're going to burn our bras and our girlfriend's bras! Take that!

Our first example is Lindsay Lohan. One of Hollywood's rising whores, and suddenly overnight, she's with a woman. Cynthia Nixon (redhead from Sex and the City) was with a man for 15 years, had two children with him, then dumped him in 2004 to be with a "woman" she met at some New York rally thing (and really, don't you think her "girl"friend looks more like a bad version of Chris Penn than a chick?). Anne Heche: Men, Ellen, back to men.

I'd be more inclined to believe that women were sexually fluid if they left their men for feminine women, but they're not. They're leaving men for women who could easily pass for being men! That's just cheating and quite frankly...silly.

Now, if Jessica Biel left Justin for Jessica Alba, THAT would make for some serious headlines (and the male readership of tabloid magazines would quadruple overnight). But Lindsay running off with some shemale? Hardly. It doesn't intrigue us; it disgusts us.

So, for all you pseudo-lesbians out there, take note: Get over yourselves. Switching from men to quasi-men is redundant. No one wants to buy your home videos. We don't want to see you holding hands in public. It's not sexy. It's awkward and confusing, especially when you broke up with your boyfriend to date a chick who looks eerily JUST LIKE HIM...sans penis.

Maybe I'm close minded, but I'm trying not to be. I'm cool with regular gay people, just not the posers... like those stupid girls who get drunk at college parties and then make-out with their friends, just so guys look at them? Really? That's how you get attention? Maybe some dude would have been interested in your Garfield figurine collection, or how you won the checkers tournament in 3rd grade against your biggest rival, Jason Selemba (cough). Okay, maybe not. Whatever. I'm just saying...I think all this lesbian-love is some kind of phase. Once their 'boy/girl'friends steal the last tampon, I bet that illusion of love goes right out the window.

Plus? You can always count on a guy to carry the heavy stuff, like microwaves and cases of beer. Your shemale can't do that.