ABOUT ME

About me: My husband Chuck, our six-year-old Junior, our three-year-old Everette and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

I'm hoping this is the kind of function where my privates won't be under attack

I’m going to see David Gray in NYC tonight with my girlfriends. My friend is bringing her dog, so her dog can stay with her sister while we go to the concert. For reasons I don’t quite understand, the dog will be wearing a diaper.

I didn’t ask.

I’m a little nervous because the crew that I’m going with is the same crew who planned my bachelorette party in NYC four years ago. Picture me, a sweet little engaged lamb, carefully packing my overnight bag for my last hoorah. Now picture my friends at the chotchkie store, buying penis shaped straws and lollipops.

I thought we were going bar hopping. Instead they took me to...

To...Hunk-o-mania.



Yes! And it was as gross as it sounds. Hundreds of brides-to-be and their friends sat at tables in what seemed to be an abandoned factory. The room had the smell and feel of a petting zoo. A dark petting zoo with sweaty, gyrating men everywhere. Men danced on stage and their oil and sweat flew off in big chunks and hit you in the face!

Ok, that might be the tequila talking. I had a lot tequila.

Women screeched and screamed as the dancers worked the crowd. Sometimes I’d look over and see a dancer holding a woman around his waist as he thrust her up and down. The women seemed to enjoy this. I must have been snarling at the dancers because no one tried to pick me up and dry hump me.

The grand finale of the night was when each bride-to-be was called up on stage so she could enjoy a personal dance. There was more thrusting and screeching. Some women were placed on the ground and ploughed. Others were stretched and pulled into positions I’ve only read about in Cosmo. I can’t be sure, but I think I saw a live enactment of the much heralded Wheelbarrow position.

Then it was my turn. The sweaty, oily man sat me down in a chair. I'm sure I looked grossed out (and, ok, cross-eyed from the tequila). He approached me and gyrated. He tried to spread my legs. I believe I put up some resistance. When he finally pried my legs open, I looked away and that’s when he made a fist and jabbed me—in my crotch!

Not a Vin Diesel kind of jab, but enough of a punch that it stung.

I got up and walked off stage. My friend asked me, “How was it?” and I shouted, loud enough so everyone could hear: “HE PUNCHED ME IN THE CROTCH.”

I thought that after my declaration I’d fall into the sympathetic arms of the sisterhood, or at least the establishment. Alas, some chick in the bathroom was on her knees as she thanked her dancer for her dance. She didn’t care about my mangled privates. And the manager? When I told him what had happened, he asked if I wanted him to rub it all better. Bastard!

I was so irate that I demanded we leave. I started towards the door and then I fell. Flat on my back on the concrete floor. I was in a cab by 10:15 and in bed by 11.

Rock on!

So you see, when my darling girlfriends tell me we are going to a concert in NYC I am a little leery. I haven't actually seen the David Gray tickets. All I know is that we are getting a 2:30 p.m. train.

Should I bring my husband's athletic cup?

26 comments:

Stacy (the Random Cool Chick) said...

Maybe you should pack your hubby's athletic cup and a bottle of tequila. ;)

Now I'll be anxiously awaiting to hear if you ever actually make it to the mysterious concert, or if your friends have other plans - you know, to make up for the crotch punch.

:)

Pricilla said...

Who is David Gray and does he really sing?

JW.BW said...

I would think better safe than sorry in a situation like this!! You never know what may happen! Good luck!! Maybe u should bring a tazer.

heedpantsnow said...

Quick...stuff a sock in your pants and pretend to be a transvestite if you end up back at hunk-o-trouble. They will likely leave you alone...or it will make you the most appealing girl in the room. Oops...maybe I didn't think that through entirely.

Girls aren't guys...we aren't really turned on by gi-normous, oiled up muscle heads in thongs. Guys will get hot by strange underdressed girls...stick us with strange underdressed men and we mostly just groan and hope they don't smell.

Enjoy the show...if it is, in fact, David Gray. Otherwise, get your fists ready. Your turn to be the crotch assaulter!

rachel... said...

That's horrible! And hilarious!

I've been to exactly one Hunk-o-Mania-esque review and it was AWFUL! Thank goodness the bar stools faced away from the stage because I would have never been able to keep all my tequila down if I'd had to look at those hairless men gyrating all night...

Suzi said...

I have been to Male Reviews and they were nothing like that. Dancing and gyrating, stripping to g-strings, but no lap dances, fondling, women performing on their knees, etc. Ewww, ewww, ewww. I would be leary too. Good luck!

Marinka said...

Don't all dogs wear diapers?

A Mom on Spin said...

Yikes! I don't know what else to say, but Yikes!

Jenni said...

nothing like a punch in the crotch to ruin a good tequila haze.

kyooty said...

I will never in my life understand why some woman think that these shows are entertainment? I've never been and never will go. I hope you get to your real concert.

Keely said...

Man, Canadians just don't know how to have fun like you guys do.

Dto3 said...

You lost me at Hunk-o-Mania.

Mad Woman said...

Wow...way to keep the customers coming..punch 'em in the crotch. What a jackass! Definitely take that cup..and stay away from the tequila.

Well ok, maybe a little tequila.

Buggys said...

Yowza! Yuck and ewww! Sounds like a little too much fun....or something.
I went to one of those shows and it was actually a blast but mostly because of the people I was with. My MIL is one and boy did she get trashed!

Anne said...

Uh Oh, it is Sunday and there is no post about the concert. I am hoping you made it through ok and that there actually was a concert. Hopefully there were no sweaty gross men punching women where no man should punch. I hope you had a good time!

Petra a.k.a The Wise (*Young*) Mommy said...

That is SO my nightmare. I have a stripper phobia. Male and female. I wonder what that's called? Junkinyourface-aphobia perhaps?

blognut said...

He punched you in the crotch?!!! WTF?!

Bring the cup! Don't trust those friends of your's not to get you punched in the crotch again.

Julia said...

That is some seriously weird shit. I am kind of stunned. Have I been locked away in some alternate universe or been protected by our homebody ways. Either way I am sorry you were punched in the gyna and hope you have a cup.

Lindy said...

Really? Who likes this? I mean, as far as I'm concerned penises aren't that great to look at for free, let alone to pay a cover for it.

Heather, Queen of Shake Shake said...

Yes, bring your husband's cup. Or a dog diaper. That should keep you safe.

Stacie's Madness said...

punched you in the crotch? what's that about? lol

Sara said...

Wow! Your description was border line harlequin romance. ;s lol Have fun! Sounds like some good times will be had with your girls!

Brandy said...

whatever. you act like you you didn't enjoy it but i don't believe your lies.

Trac~ said...

OMG I am rolling on the floor laughing my butt off at the picture that has now entered my head - however, I think I'd wear the cup for sure! Just in case... HA! :O)

Little Ms Blogger said...

Completely envious of the David Gray tickets.

I was to see him a few years back, but had to give up the tickets - :-(.

I won't even comment how lucky you were to be in a petting zoo or that your friend's dog wears a diaper (however, you need to find out why)

Mrsbear said...

Jeeezus. A crotch punch is not exactly the last hurrah I was expecting. Ouch. Doesn't that qualify as assault or something? WTF?