Last night we went to Sammy's loft and then to a strip club called Spearmint Rhino.
Fun was had by all.

Now, several things may surprise you as they did me about Spearmint Rhino. For one thing, the name is never explained. It's just brought up and left hanging, and then never addressed again. There's no mint air freshener, no sign of a rhino. There's no reason, no closure, it's just one of those things that I have to accept I'll probably never get to the bottom of and will just have to do my best to let it go and move on.

Also the club makes a commendable effort at achieving elegance with its tuxedo-clad staff, Victorian style portraits of women on the wall, rusty chandeliers and tiny, tiny tables. (Literally, they hold like 3 drinks.) There's even a fireplace in the corner with lounging "gentlemen" and strippers gathered around it as if someone with a pipe and a brandy is about to tell a ghost story. A real touch of class.

We sized up the entertainment as they took the stage, looking for that special someone to be the lucky recipient of our lap dance fund. It's not as easy as one might think to find that perfect stripper. Orin commented that one chunky Asian gal with a pretty face looked like she had "eaten a few too many egg rolls." Another gal had a hot bod but seemed kind of awkward, didn't have the moves, couldn't really pull it off. She also had a serial killer style gaze that was a bit unsettling. Another one made us uncomfortable with her bizarre salsa choice; she seemed better suited for partner dancing at some sort of a fiesta. I could see her maybe going on to compete on "America's Got Talent" or something. The pregnant girl wasn't a big hit with our gang either.

Some girls looked like they just didn't invest much in the overall presentation. I mean you gotta bring something to the table up there. We were looking for a little panache, some moxy, some stage presence- not just any old lazily prancing waxed muffin.

Well, we finally found what we were looking for in a spunky little spitfire called "Angel." I think we were unanimously taken with her long, luxurious hair, her expert pole work, and the part where she took Sammy's glasses off his face and wore them during her act. Yes, it was cheesy, but it was endearing and it worked. She had a way about her…

Sammy bought us a lap dance with Angel and I was not prepared for what transpired. I guess I'm a a rube because I thought a "lap dance" meant she would just be bringing her charismatic stage performance a little closer, I didn't realize she'd be attacking us. She took us at the same time into a side booth situation and proceeded to not actually dance at all but rather launch into an all out sexual assault. She was crawling all over us, grinding, planting our hands and faces on and in her big soft but rubbery boobs, grabbing us, and even started taking off my shirt!! It was a sticky, glittery, vanilla blur-storm. What kind of an unruly brothel was this?! I mean, was a bouncer going to step in and save US from this horn-dog rapist stripper?!! She was like raping us with her lap dance.

Meanwhile don't forget the whole time our friends were looking on from the table and laughing uncontrollably like little voyeuristic jackals. You definitely get some bang for your buck at the Ol' Rhino.

After the dance it was a little strange. I mean if you think it's awkward after a one-night stand, try a one-song stand. Or rather, a two-song grind. What do you say after that? We thanked her and tipped her and then she sort of lingered around muttering things like: "well, It was fun dancing for you all" and "you're a good sport." It reminded me of those Friendster updates that come in the email and try to entice you to pay attention to Friendster again and it's like "I get that you're still there, Friendster, but that doesn't mean I feel comfortable interacting with you and I just think it's best if we all move on." I wonder how guys with puddles in their pants negotiate these cumbersome pleasantries.

The other thing that happened was the "feature act." She was a porn star and I think her name was Tanya Hamburger or something. I'm bad with names. Anyway, she came out in this whole black vinyl bat outfit with detachable wings that snapped off, boots and the whole deal, and a mask. A mask!! She looked like a cross between Bat man and the Hamburgler. She was blasting this loud metal music for her act and one thing was apparent from the get-go: Home Girl was not fucking around. She was doing some ninja style kicks, some odd squats, and even had a trunk full of props. I mean I wouldn't have been surprised if she had num chucks. (sp?) She was putting on a SHOW. She was like a one person Halloween.

At first we found her whole get-up to be pretty hilarious.We were all laughing. It looked like someone's alcoholic bottom: "So there I was, dressed like a giant bat... dancing around in a crazy black garbage bag when I had a moment of clarity…" But then she kind of grew on us, she started winning us over with her pro-wrestler style theatrics.

She was the real deal. She did like 6 songs and her costumes and antics became more extreme with each subsequent song. Every move was a victory against her opponent: the audience. She was like violently sexual and winning at it. The highlight was really when she put on a full black head-mask contraption and started whipping her own hoo-hoo with one of those whip/ brush deals (pardon my lack of appropriate lingo here).

At the end of her act when the crowd was going nuts, she started throwing some of her posters out to a lucky few patrons who were all wound up and trying desperately to catch one. Everyone was riotously cheering and fighting for a coveted Tonya Hamburger poster. Then she stood up, looked right at our table, roared, rubbed her last remaining poster vigorously up and down her hoo-hoo, and hurled it directly at our table. We were all trying to be polite and grateful and seem appreciative which seemed to be the protocol, while simultaneously ducking to not get hit by said unsanitary crotch poster.

What happened then was that the poster hit my friend Jessica right in the eye! The whole club was staring at her like she was a lottery winner about to give an acceptance speech. What could the poor girl do? She feigned enthusiasm and graciously accepted the "gift" for the benefit of Tanya Hamburger and a room full of fans and then she spent the rest of the night wondering if it had given her eye herpes.