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!
From across the room I was like, "Look at at topless chick dancing! She's got the sweetest two....Ugh! Wait a minute! That chick's got a beard! It's a dude and those are MANBOOBS not girl boobs!" Hahahah. (Hey, in my defense a)It was dark in there and b)He does have pretty sweet boobs.)
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.
Do me a favor: take your cursor, move it over the pic up above, click the right-hand mouse button and view the photos' "Properties." Do you see what it says? Yeah, it says "001.jpg," which means that it's the first picture of the evening. We're at the party for less than two minutes and a girl walks up to David, points at her friend and says, "Hi, my friend thinks you're cute. Will you make out with her while I take your picture."
The worst thing about the Cake parties is that guys that are there are mostly dressed like this. For Christ's sake, he could at least have the decency to put on some chaps or something.
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!
Look, my clothes aren't even off yet and all the ladies've got their money ready! Aw yeah, boyee. (Too bad they all put their money away once I started getting naked...).
...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!)