Bums

I mulled it over. This hot guy I'm seeing kept nagging at me to blog with him (of all things), and like water over a rock, he wore me down. Mulled and ready or not, here we go.  

It didn't actually happen like that at all. He's not the nagging type of person. Unless the topic is feet. That, however, is a post for another day. 

My first post is going to be about male strippers. Sweaty, Velcro-clad Mexican male strippers. There were certainly no kitten kisses (although whoever the fuck would want a kitten kiss is beyond comprehension).  My living room still retains the faint odor of 'entertainer' - a gentle mix of Calvin Klein, tequila and tacos. 

I believe that there were, indeed, two too many pork tacos in the room last night. Despite the confusing (yet correct) use of homophones in the previous sentence, it was quite clear that things were taken too far last night.

So as my roommates and I mop up our despoiled living room, I remember the evening with mixed emotions. Laughter, camaraderie and kareoke with my Mexican besties, but too many naked boy bums. I've already got my butt - and he's the greatest end to any evening a girl could hope for.