Last night, Santa visited me at my strip club. Well, he looked a little weathered and about 120 years old with thinning hair, and he did wear glasses — I didn’t think Santa needs glasses, but I am not a Santa expert. And who knows how old Santa really is. StripClubSanta tipped me $2 when I danced for him on stage — I assumed $1 per boob, which means Santa did not tip my booty. When I stepped off stage he said thought, “Excuse me, but you have the nicest ass I’ve ever seen.” I am not sure what that means coming from a Santa man. I quickly discovered that StripClubSanta wasn’t in his generous Santa mood, instead, he was more interested in getting himself some gifts. First, he tried to grope but derriere, then he quickly, just after I introduced myself said, “I am very interested in you. Your beautiful smile has caught my eye. I think you are very special.” I asked him straight out, “Do you want a lap dance?” Although, I wasn’t really interested in doing a private dance for Santa. And he answered, “Yes, but not in here. You are very beautiful, and I want you to go home with me.” Okie dokie, that was enough repellent verbal vomit for me to walk away, but Santa was following me like a lost puppy. Him, “Look, I want more. You’re very intriguing to me. You have captured my attention, and I would like to take you out to dinner. Will you give me your phone number.” Me, “No!” Him threatening, “If you don’t give me a lap dance I will just go to my other club where the girls know me. I am not rich but I’ll get money next week and I’ll pay you then.” Me, while fleeing away from him, “The girls at the other club won’t go home with you either.” 120 year old Santa brags in a cocky voice, “Yeah, but the women who visit that bar will.”
When Santa and Elves appear in the strip club only one thing is left for me to do: pray! “God grant me the serenity to to accept the things I cannot change. Courage to change the things I can and wisdom to know the difference.” I will never be able to look at Santa the same way again.

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