You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy!™
90 year old women fondling Chippendale dancers and Chippendale Dancers grinding over somebody’s grandma like a sexual car wash with a blown water hose.
DATELINE: SIN CITY
From the city where “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”, comes a torid and steamy story of extreme “cougar-ing.”
It’s in a casino showroom that 30 lovely ladies from the assisted living center came to the Chippendale’s Show.
For those of you wondering, I’m not talking about 2 life sized Chipmunks with high pitched voices and nicely groomed fur.
Chippendale Dancers have wash board abs and a tight ass. Men with stomach fat and man boobs need not apply.
These humans are model tested tough. They are hunk-a-licious. These Me Tarzan You Jane supermen are the reason women fantasize.
They are male strippers who fill out a g-string with a sock and a smile. If you’ve never seen the show, it’s simple. Pulsing laser lights, sexy dance music, and lots of “pelvic grindage.”
If the men were in public, they’d cause a traffic accident. They’d be arrested as a public nuisance or a carnival act not properly inspected.
So these men are gyrating to the beat, and humping air with the power and grace of a Blue Angels flight squadron.
And in walks a parade of blue hairs with walkers and false teeth.
Some of these gals voted for Teddy Roosevelt. Most of these women use Depends diapers as a hidden seat cushion.
Some of the women from the home knew why they were coming to this palace of pulchritude. Other seniors were just finding out with a smile so intense, I thought pace makers might malfunction.
“Do you know what it is about?” the Vegas based reporter covering this menagerie of uncomfortable imagery asked one granny.
“It’s about good looking guys,” she says with a been there done that kind of calm. “I want to see that.”
I was once in a Chippendale’s Club in L.A. After the Dancers performed for an entirely female audience. After the show, the club opened the doors. Men of decidedly less genetic possibilities wandered in. Fat men. Bald men. Men who think a dickie is a good look. It didn’t matter. The Dancers had done their job working the women into a frenzy. Like baking soda being dumped into a 32 oz Pepsi, the women were over flowing with needs and estrogen. Needless to say, we had to wipe down the joint and fight off the gals with shovels. What a bizarre but novel concept.
Back to the Vegas show:
“The men are so good looking,” one Mee Maw exclaims. She suddenly grabs a hold of the reporter who looks like the before version of the guy who gets sand kicked in his face.
“I’m not part of the act,” he says with an uncomfortable grin reserved for a man who is being groped by a woman with a hearing aid and liver spots.
The news crew asks the male dancers what it is like to perform for women so “life-experienced.”
“It’s a lot of pressure,” he said his abs rippling on cue. “But I have a good team behind me.”
I think these women just think he has a good behind behind him.
And that is crazy.™