Allergic to Fun: Adventures at a Male Revue

When some friends had mentioned (with great enthusiasm) getting tickets to see the “Thunder from Down Under” show, my immediate reaction was, “Why?”

Through my head ran every sitcom that I had ever watched that contained a male revue scene.  Okay, I thought, round tables, drinks, scantily clad men with eerily little body hair and an unnatural sheen, and a load of screaming women.  The whole idea made me uncomfortable in a vague sort of way.  I’m not sure why.  I’m not prudish generally, and nudity doesn’t bother me, ask my neighbors.

So I thought, why not?  Why not step outside my comfort zone and live a little?

Two amaretto sours deep and I still wasn’t into it.  I was very anxious that one of the…. what do you call them?…. dancers? might approach me.  Really.  I’m not into touching people.  Especially spray-tanned people that I do not know.  Oddly, that seemed to be the very reason everyone else was there.

But there weren’t any round tables, in case you were wondering.

I should mention here that it was loud.  I mean LOUD. Between the music and the squealing, I really wished I had a pair of neon orange ear plugs that are typically reserved for motor sports events.  In fact, it was so loud that a friend and I smashed heads trying to yell in each others’ ears…. although she may have tried to kiss me.  She denies it, but….

Where were the tables?

So the dancers did their routine: pirates, firemen, cowboys, etc.  At various points, audience members were dragged to the stage, one of whom licked the dancer…. I’m not kidding.  I think I threw up in my mouth a little.

(Aside: I will never handle money without washing my hands  again.ever.)

The music was really good…. GNR, ACDC, Motley Crue, and some more current songs that I was unfamiliar with… something about a milkshake and saving a horse.  But the show? Eh, I could take it or leave it. I was in the extreme minority.  I started thinking that maybe I might actually be allergic to fun, although I didn’t break out in hives or anything so I can’t prove it.

I’m still hung up on the tables.  I was sure there were supposed to be tables… round ones.

What did I learn from this experiment?

I have fun friends. Really fun friends with unexpected and entertaining wild streaks. (One of them had nearly been thrown out of a Chippendale’s show once for bad behavior.  Who knew?)

I am not one of them.  Seems there’s no wild streak here.  You get what you get.  And these days, what you get is a little dull.

Still- I should go out with them more often.  It would be good for me to loosen up a little.  Next time I will start drinking before the evening begins (provided that I’m not driving, of course) and see if that helps.  Maybe there’s fun buried in me somewhere that I’ve deeply repressed.

Did I have any fun at all?

Yes, although truly, I had more fun after the show, giggling over onion rings and the photos that the gals had taken with the Aussies, and listening to Libby contemplate her blog pseudonym at great length, for when she got an honorable mention, and how could she not get an honorable mention?  Libby nicknamed a dancer “Green Teeth” (for reasons I am still not clear on), had cash hanging out of her shirt, was hoarse from screaming, and miraculously purchased her onion rings with points.  If you’re going out, that is the woman to have with you.

The night wrapped up with the cab ride home with Lawless-Wallace-Nate, and is best summed up by Libby:  “‘Lawless’? As in above the law? So next time, if we want to request you, we should call up the cab company and say, ‘Hey! Send over Lawless’?”

I was just recalling that there was a time once when I was fun.  It was a long long time ago.  And I even vaguely recall a college party where…. Oh… I’ll save that for another blog.  In the meantime,  it’s wonderful to have friends that do know how to have fun, even though I’ve forgotten.

Thanks, ladies!


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