Bring on the Booze, Women, and Balls!

"This isn't bad, is it?" I asked Corb, after the waitress had dropped off our drinks--a beer for me, and a bottle of water for my man.

"Not bad at all," said Corb, "Although getting VIP tickets for a show like this is sort of like wearing a tuxedo to a wrestling match."

We stared at the stage, slightly dumbfounded by what was before us.

"That one on the left," I said. "She's really working it."

"Yes," agreed Corb. "She's taking a lot more money than the one of the right, too."

"I like the way she reaches down and grabs the money they're offering her with her mouth."

"Yes, that's classy. I like the way she's making out with all of the girls that come over to her."

"The other dancer's not doing that. I guess she's not as much of a skank. Oh well, her loss!"

And what, I hear you ask, would cause two bon vivants such as Corb and myself, two gentlemen more accustomed to lifting our pinkies at a tea social, to attend such a gathering? Well, my dear Watson, I learned on Thursday that, through my work (and with very little effort on my part), I was the winner of VIP tickets to Opie and Anthony's Traveling Virus tour, which was playing at the Tweeter Center this past week-end. We went on Saturday night, and we could tell from the very econd that we got out of our car that we were going to be flopping around like fishies out of water.

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