From: cptn_quirk@earthcorp.com Subject: ASSC AFTSD: review where: charlie's rock & roll. ca rte 395, couple of miles south of adelanto. when: nov 27 1998 plus: beer, company, no fake tits, no dj, mesh caps. minus: mesh caps, dancer personalities. a while back my friend j's wife was planning him a bday party. he was somewhat morose at the time, and thought that hitting up a sc solo might be more appropriate than some socialite party. or maybe he'd rather just do a camping trip to the desert. me being the bright guy that i am, pointed out that charlie's rock & roll was only a few miles from our regular desert spot, and that i'd been wanting to check it out for longer than i'd been going to sc's. so, we let a couple of friends know. i show up on the lake bed at about 3:00 pm. jet fuel is sleeping off his morning binge in his tent. the cloud of dust raised by my creation of an alien landing site on the lakebed wakes him up. we discuss the relative merits of cheap american beer, burgundy in a box, and some fancy single malt. for some reason the single malt seems to be disappearing quickly. e shows up right around dusk. he's brought enough wood so that we can build a fire before we head out. the brewmaster shows up, with pricey american beer. (well, pricey for *other* people). at this point it seems like i'm pissing every two minutes. can't tell how good the single malt is, anymore. i throw a propane bottle on the fire. it just jets, and doesn't blow up. damn. we drive around till we get a cell signal. call j. get his wife. she says his gf's car broke down, and they're just about to leave. tell her to tell them to find us at the bar, they can't miss it. then we all pile into jetfuel's pimpmobile. bring some more single malt (for some reason we have a number more bottles of scotch than we do people) and some beers. as we enter the bar, it becomes obvious that e & brewmaster are not sc afficionados. this explains why the bouncer gave e grief for his fingernails, but completely ignored my cobalt blue ones as i paid for me & jet fuel. being the drunk fuck that he is, he left his wallet on the lakebed. fortunately, i had enough to cover him. fortunate, cause it would keep me from spending as much as stupidly might have trying to amuse myself here. this could be a nice club. really nice, in that down home kinda way. two big rooms, each with a stage, and some pool tables. separate bar area. nice back porch, with volley ball courts. i like the idea of playing volleyball with strippers. too bad it didn't happen. lots of corners, with couches. could be good, xcept they were all empty. maybe the laps were no good. we wander into the one room that's not completely empty. dancer on stage, most of the guys are at the rail. we grab a table. the bartender comes by, asks what we want to drink. 45 oz. beers for $3 ? we're so bombed at this point it doesn't matter if it is swill. i try to do the scoping out thing. turns out there's not much to scope. T shaped stage, mirrors along the back, runway with pl's on either side, two poles. the dancer on stage isn't that cute, but she seems to have some fans. don't see nay dancers off the stage. jet fuel grabs the $1's that came as change for the beer & heads to the stage. ends up next to the hms (um, such as it is). the guys next to him clear out, and brewmaster & e head over. e ends up in the hms, out of sheer luck. jet fuel shows em how to fold their ones over the railing. i watch long enough to see that there's really no protocol for tipping. i sit in the back a while, looking around for other dancers. i'm almost thinking it would be nice to get a wanna. the two dancers that were on stage wander off. the next song on the cd player comes on. the mesh caps stare dully at the pole. eventually another girl wanders by and puts some new cd's in, gets on stage and starts to dance. she does the stupid whippy leg trick, as if that's supposed to make us throw money at her. seems to work for the natives, though. things kinda blur after that. i remember pole work that was reminiscent of me in 3rd grade gym class. i remember saying something about my being jaded to jet fuel, and him responding by doing the devil horns and shouting at full volume "adelanto rocks!". (the natives joined in. the dancers continued their animatronic performances.) i remember realizing the closest you could come to getting eye contact with a dancer was watching them watch themselves in the mirror. i remember watching one poor sap actually grab a dancer to get her attention for a couch dance. she was closer to me than she was to him during the whole thing. no matter how cheap they are (and despite the handpainted signs advertising one on one attention) i'm sure they are to be avoided. there's finally a dancer that has what must pass for je ne sais quois at this joint. i'm in the secondary mileage seat (off to the side, next to the pole). she's arcing her back and pulling on her thong. i close my eyes to imagine her actually interacting with me, and actually can feel myself getting ready to bust a chub. jet fuels hand lands on my shoulder and he gives me that "we're outta here" look. i take my small pile of remaining bills and throw them on stage, probably equalling what she'll get from the other guys. she emotionalessly moves on to the next customer. in the car, wheeling back to the desert, i hit the scotch. wrong move at this point. the vomit'll get washed off the side of the car by the oncoming rainstorm, i'm sure. we get back on the lake bed. we get lost. driving through the whoopdeedoos at the edge of the lake looking for our camp gets e to hurl as well. (either that, or it was the backwards donuts we were doing, i'm not to sure at this point.) we finally find camp. no sign of j and his squeeze. i put out the flashing red light. they show up 5 min later. turns out that they stopped for a bit of roadside nookie on the way out. since it's j's b-day, we cut him some slack. his girlfriend brought enough wood to build a decent fire. j burns his shirt. his girlfriend burns her panties. we throw in more propane bottles. one of them even blows up.i go and pass out in the car. i woke as the storm came in, and and watched the embers from the fire blow across the lake bed in a big glowing trail before the rain started. it wasn't what i normally look for in a strip club. but, i'll probably find myself there again soon. -----------== Posted via Deja News, The Discussion Network ==---------- http://www.dejanews.com/ Search, Read, Discuss, or Start Your Own