A Good Night to Wear a Suit

   So on Friday I got a call from the girl that cuts my hair. She's wondering if she can use my office for a bachelorette party that she's planning, and if I can be their personal bartender. Obviously I said yes. Now, she never said anything about stripping, but I know that her and a couple friends have said that I look quite dashing, especially when I'm dressed up.
   I was going to wear a suit, but I eventually decided against it, because suits can be constricting and I've never bartended in one, so I'm not sure I could have done any bartender tricks. I wore my nicest looking blue button down shirt and nice pants and shoes, so I would say I was still bartender suited up. The night goes on and I'm making very potent drinks for them. I haven't been drinking, because I'm trying to be professional, so when they called over to me and asked me to start stripping for them, I was a bit nervous. Naturally I said that for every shot one of them took, I would take one, until I was ready to start. So this way, I assured that it wouldn't be awkward for me, and they would be willing to do anything.
   After many shots we got the music going and I went to town. I won't give you the play-by-play, but there was quite a bit of grinding, grabbing dollars from their bras(with my mouth) and fewer clothes by the minute. They really enjoyed my lucky Cheetah print boxers. After they had their fill of me, we decided to go downtown.
   Now, I don't know if any of you have ever done this before, but I felt like a God among mere men at this point. I had around 7-8 very attractive girls hanging on me, buying me drinks, and undoing my shirt and belt buckle when I wasn't paying attention. There was not a single guy in there that wasn't jealous, and I had a few random girls come up to me trying to flirt, but I pretty much just blew them off. I can finally see why women do that so much. When you've already gotten the attention of 7+ hotter girls, why put the effort into the less attractive ones?
    After a bit of arguing over who got to take me home, and whether or not I could be "shared," I decided I'd go over to the cute red head's house. Don't worry, she was a daywalker not a ginger. She seemed like the coolest one to chill with, because I wasn't planning on having sex at this point, and just wanted to hang out one on one with a girl for a bit. The reason I wasn't going to sex any of them up that night(and I know you're thinking WTF!?!? at this point) was because I have sort of a monogamous relationship where we've agreed not to sleep with anyone else and I'd already had my way with her twice that day already.
   On the way back to her house we ordered pizza and we ended up watching The Other Guys, which I was not all that impressed with. At some point in the night I decided that I should walk home, not even considering a cab because I was too far gone to rationally think. I start walking home and realize that I've walked about 10 blocks in the wrong direction. I get pissed at myself for not paying attention to where I'm going and decide to call up my "friend with benefits."
   It's really late and I half expect her to just not answer, but for some strange reason she actually answered and decided that she needed to come get me. Apparently I sounded really drunk or something. So she picks me up and drives me home and I thank her profusely. She helps me to my house, and then into my bed and takes my clothes off and gives me a BJ. I don't remember anything past that, but I think she probably just left. The moral of the story here is if you don't have a suit, or any nice looking clothes, then get some. I was a completely different man before I started dressing nice. I owe this awesomeness to my suits. I owe at least 75% of it to suits, 15% to alcohol, and 5% to me. Suit up to make sure you can Birthday suit up.

This is what I felt like, except I wore cooler looking cheetah boxers.

If you guys have any questions, I can try to answer them in later posts. Just leave a comment.