After hanging out with Louise three other times (all of which ended with her not getting kissed and asking me in her heavily-accented English "What eeez eee, a, how you say, faggot?") Grant finally got enough courage (read: alcohol in him) to plant a big one on her. Nicely done!
We met up with Louise and Laure (aka - the French girls) out front of the club and got in line. Before they'd even let us into the place, they made Grant and I take off our shirts. We were warned that we'd be permanently removed from the party if we put them back on.
I knew the competition to earn a slot dancing for the night would be fierce, so I quickly busted out my Photoshop skillz and whipped up two tasty fliers advertising our masculinity that I knew would tantalize those Cake minxes. Here's the first image I sent along...
Because Em & Lo were too preoccupied to take photos of us dancing, I lifted these next few photos off of Cake's website (they were all taken by Jenny Schulder). Grant ran out on stage, screamed "My name is Daniel-san!" in the mic, did a jump kick, opened up his karate jacket and then proceeded to rip off the tee-shirt he was wearing underneath! So tough!
...and when that didn't get an immediate response, I upped the ante with "beefcake" version (check out Grant's sassy, coy lil' smile! Tee-hee!) ...and SHA-POW! It worked. Grant and I got the green light: we were going to become male strippers.
Our Nerve co-workers Em & Lo were right in the front row and were supposed to immortalize our maiden strip performance on film for my photo album, but according to Lo, "We got so excited when you two came out that we were so busy yelling and screaming with our arms up in the air that we forgot to take photos."
At one point in the night, Grant and I gave dirty lap dances to Em & Lo up on stage in front of everyone. (Check out Emma trying to escape my grasp! Hahahaha).
Growing more beligerent with each drink she downed, she eventually called us "manwhores" and stormed away because we apparently weren't giving her the attention that she deserved. (And in all fairness to her, considering she bought three rounds of drinks for both Grant and I at $10 a drink, she probably had a right to be unhappy...we're definitely not worth $60!)