Chowing down, cheating death, chalking up lapdances
I'm back in Philly.
I thought I'd type a little post now. Rosemary and I got back from Mexican food at Las Margaritas, after I'd spent some time out with Tribune ex-co-workers. She's taking a little doze on the futon after some "Antiques Roadshow."
Last night was fun, except for the almost dying part.
We had dinner at Porky & Porkie for some Korean barbecue. And people came out! Word up to camilleophelia, evelynne and trishylicious, Sue and Scott, and Horseman Johnny for coming down. We had a big table full of people, and it was good to talk and eat and talk. Because it takes a bit to cook the food on the grill, it affords for a slow, casual meal filled with conversation.
It was good to see camilleophelia, and to meet evelynne for the first time. Yes, evelynne, I'll wear tight pants next time so we can compare butts. And I hadn't seen trishylicious in a long, long time. Once I let the cat out of the bag that she's a Philly Roller Girl, Sue and Scott got to talking about going to the exhibition bout Sunday. So now we're all gonna roll.
Death by meat, almost
Now, everything was going well, until I almost died. Luckily, Rosemary saved my life, which now gives her ultimate Best Girlfriend Ever status. I was eating a piece of prime rib, and as I bit into a piece to tear it off and chew, the whole pieces -- more than 2 inches long -- sucked down my throat and stuck in it.
I immediately knew it wasn't going to come out, but I tried to vomit it out. I started standing up, and was hacking and retching, but nothing was coming out.
In my mind I heard, "I'm choking. I'm choking." I wanted to shout it, but it's hard to do that when your windpipe is blocked. And no one at the table seemed to notice that this was happening to me! And I think, "Shit, I'm going to die right here."
I start motioning my hands over my windpipe -- the international sign for choking. Rosemary sees it, jumps out of her chair yelling "Oh my God!" She comes over and performs the Heimlich Maneuver, pushing just enough on my abdomen to push air up my digestive tract, and I'm able to reach into my mouth and pull the food out.
I'm alive. I'm alive. And embarrassed.
By this point everyone had noticed that something was wrong. It's interesting to look people in the face and say, I was choking and possibly dying right in front of you. I go right back to my food, trying to shake it off. After all, it's passed, what can I do about it? I've never choked on food before. But I tell everyone that I'm OK, and I keep on eating.
Later as I'm going to bed, I relive it in my mind. I could have died right there, I thought. But here I am sleeping with the woman I love, who SAVED ME.
I should have taken a picture of that damned hunk of meat.
Celebrating life the best way I know how
Now, after a near-death experience, what's the best way to celebrate life? Titties, that's what. Rosemary and I went to Delilah's afterward. Unfortunately we couldn't get anyone to come with us, but we had a great time.
Lots of very pretty girls, and we got some good seats right up at the tiprail of the main stage. We'd never sat there before, so it was interesting to look right up at the girl, whose ass is staring you in the face.
A new girl takes the main stage, and as I go for my rum and Coke, I see a flurry of spinning legs and heels above me as a dancer wickedly spins on the pole, pauses in mid-air, and drops STRAIGHT DOWN HARD to the floor in a full split, her 4-inch heels slamming into the floor. Her name's Bunny, and she fucking turned it out. I should have just pulled out a roll of bills and unleashed them right then. I turned to Rosemary and yelled, "Holy shit!" We both applauded her superior, show-stopping skills.
Afterward she caught us looking at her as I clapped my hands, and she slinked her way into my lap to introduce herself to Rosemary and me. Soon I got a lapdance from her while Rosemary watched. "Do you like it?" Bunny asked Rosemary as she straddled me while in a full split. (Yeah, visualize that one yourselves. Men: Envy that you weren't receiving it. Women: Envy that you can't do it.) Rosemary answered in the affirmative, to which Bunny replied, "Good! That's what matters. I don't care if he likes it."
As soon as we leave the private dance area, we run into Tamara. Yes, THAT Tamara. We saw her earlier when we'd just walked in, but now we got to talk to her. I called her name, and immediately gives me a tight hug -- which, if you saw her rather impressively large, natural breasts, means quite a hug.
"I'm glad you remembered me!" she said. "I saw you earlier, but where'd you go?" I mention that we got snatched up by Bunny. Tamara wrinkles her nose. "Now you're ready for the real thing, right?" (Note: Like basketball players and businessmen, strippers are very competitive. Mention another girl, and nine times out of 10 a stripper will automatically try to beat her.) "Let's go, now!" she says. "Now?!?" I reply, thinking about how I just left the couch dance room. "Yes, now!" she says, and pulls me into the room. And I'll leave that story there.
(missamerika, if you come with us to Delilah's and Tamara is there, I will freaking buy you a dance with her, because you just have to experience this shit. NO. JOKE.)
There was a dancer who had the total Bettie Page look, and Rosemary and I tipped her. Then after a little making out, we headed home to end the evening. And I'll leave that story there, too.
So, a great night. Great good, great friends, great times. And after cheating death, I did a hell of a lot of living.
I thought I'd type a little post now. Rosemary and I got back from Mexican food at Las Margaritas, after I'd spent some time out with Tribune ex-co-workers. She's taking a little doze on the futon after some "Antiques Roadshow."
Last night was fun, except for the almost dying part.
We had dinner at Porky & Porkie for some Korean barbecue. And people came out! Word up to camilleophelia, evelynne and trishylicious, Sue and Scott, and Horseman Johnny for coming down. We had a big table full of people, and it was good to talk and eat and talk. Because it takes a bit to cook the food on the grill, it affords for a slow, casual meal filled with conversation.
It was good to see camilleophelia, and to meet evelynne for the first time. Yes, evelynne, I'll wear tight pants next time so we can compare butts. And I hadn't seen trishylicious in a long, long time. Once I let the cat out of the bag that she's a Philly Roller Girl, Sue and Scott got to talking about going to the exhibition bout Sunday. So now we're all gonna roll.
Death by meat, almost
Now, everything was going well, until I almost died. Luckily, Rosemary saved my life, which now gives her ultimate Best Girlfriend Ever status. I was eating a piece of prime rib, and as I bit into a piece to tear it off and chew, the whole pieces -- more than 2 inches long -- sucked down my throat and stuck in it.
I immediately knew it wasn't going to come out, but I tried to vomit it out. I started standing up, and was hacking and retching, but nothing was coming out.
In my mind I heard, "I'm choking. I'm choking." I wanted to shout it, but it's hard to do that when your windpipe is blocked. And no one at the table seemed to notice that this was happening to me! And I think, "Shit, I'm going to die right here."
I start motioning my hands over my windpipe -- the international sign for choking. Rosemary sees it, jumps out of her chair yelling "Oh my God!" She comes over and performs the Heimlich Maneuver, pushing just enough on my abdomen to push air up my digestive tract, and I'm able to reach into my mouth and pull the food out.
I'm alive. I'm alive. And embarrassed.
By this point everyone had noticed that something was wrong. It's interesting to look people in the face and say, I was choking and possibly dying right in front of you. I go right back to my food, trying to shake it off. After all, it's passed, what can I do about it? I've never choked on food before. But I tell everyone that I'm OK, and I keep on eating.
Later as I'm going to bed, I relive it in my mind. I could have died right there, I thought. But here I am sleeping with the woman I love, who SAVED ME.
I should have taken a picture of that damned hunk of meat.
Celebrating life the best way I know how
Now, after a near-death experience, what's the best way to celebrate life? Titties, that's what. Rosemary and I went to Delilah's afterward. Unfortunately we couldn't get anyone to come with us, but we had a great time.
Lots of very pretty girls, and we got some good seats right up at the tiprail of the main stage. We'd never sat there before, so it was interesting to look right up at the girl, whose ass is staring you in the face.
A new girl takes the main stage, and as I go for my rum and Coke, I see a flurry of spinning legs and heels above me as a dancer wickedly spins on the pole, pauses in mid-air, and drops STRAIGHT DOWN HARD to the floor in a full split, her 4-inch heels slamming into the floor. Her name's Bunny, and she fucking turned it out. I should have just pulled out a roll of bills and unleashed them right then. I turned to Rosemary and yelled, "Holy shit!" We both applauded her superior, show-stopping skills.
Afterward she caught us looking at her as I clapped my hands, and she slinked her way into my lap to introduce herself to Rosemary and me. Soon I got a lapdance from her while Rosemary watched. "Do you like it?" Bunny asked Rosemary as she straddled me while in a full split. (Yeah, visualize that one yourselves. Men: Envy that you weren't receiving it. Women: Envy that you can't do it.) Rosemary answered in the affirmative, to which Bunny replied, "Good! That's what matters. I don't care if he likes it."
As soon as we leave the private dance area, we run into Tamara. Yes, THAT Tamara. We saw her earlier when we'd just walked in, but now we got to talk to her. I called her name, and immediately gives me a tight hug -- which, if you saw her rather impressively large, natural breasts, means quite a hug.
"I'm glad you remembered me!" she said. "I saw you earlier, but where'd you go?" I mention that we got snatched up by Bunny. Tamara wrinkles her nose. "Now you're ready for the real thing, right?" (Note: Like basketball players and businessmen, strippers are very competitive. Mention another girl, and nine times out of 10 a stripper will automatically try to beat her.) "Let's go, now!" she says. "Now?!?" I reply, thinking about how I just left the couch dance room. "Yes, now!" she says, and pulls me into the room. And I'll leave that story there.
(missamerika, if you come with us to Delilah's and Tamara is there, I will freaking buy you a dance with her, because you just have to experience this shit. NO. JOKE.)
There was a dancer who had the total Bettie Page look, and Rosemary and I tipped her. Then after a little making out, we headed home to end the evening. And I'll leave that story there, too.
So, a great night. Great good, great friends, great times. And after cheating death, I did a hell of a lot of living.