shake what your mama gave ya

My mom has a secret. I know what is is, and since I can't (ever, no matter what) keep a secret, I am now going to spill it to you: she acts all serious and strict and matter of fact, but she can be pretty fun. (shocked?!) I remember one of the very first times that I had this monumentous realization. I was 5 and we were coming out of the grocery store with a cart full of groceries. While walking toward the car, she jumped up on the cart and started kicking one foot and riding it like a scooter, effectively leaving me in the parking lot dust. At first I was a little taken aback, (who is this crazy woman?), then I was jealous, (I want to ride that scooter cart!) and then it finally dawned on me-hey! my mom is fun. (YAY!)
Fast forward a couple of decades to now. I get a call from Mom asking me if I want to go to a male review when I am in Klamath for a visit. (um, what?!) Mom giggles and says it is a fund raiser and Tracy is selling tickets. (sidebar-until recently I haven't been back to Klamath very much as an adult, and when I go, we usually just hang out in the woods foraging and whatnot. On one visit though, probably about 10 years ago, I met Tracy while peddling lip gloss. Tracy is about my very favorite person to ever come out of Klamath Falls, she is quick, funny and pretty much just basically kicks ass.) It was as if fate had some how intervened and taken the decision out of my hands; my mom was taking me to watch strippers.
As we drove to the show, I felt a little nervous. After asking more questions about the "review" I had learned that these gentlemen were all over the age of 40 and most had never danced anything other than a two-step in their lives. I was thinking presentation would be crucial, this could go either way, it could possibly be the very best thing I had ever witnessed, or you know, not.
The following story is true, to the best of my memory, and I will now try my best to describe for you the events, (in stunning detail) since your mom wasn't fun enough to take you.
We found a parking spot right in front of the Moose lodge and headed in for the show. A handsome (and fully dressed) man was sitting behind a small card table by the door collecting the cover charge ($5 each). Behind him there was a snack buffet consisting of brownies, a chocolate fountain, crusty bread, mixed cheese cubes and assorted crudites. (very posh. Klamath, it is possible that I have underestimated you, or maybe, just maybe, you have changed in the 15 or so odd years since I left running and never once looked back. It is also very possible that the Moose lodge is like the fanciest James Bond hideout in a 100 mile range and women have never before been allowed to enter it's hallowed doors)
A very handsome Willie Nelson was wandering around with a tray waiting to bring you anything you would like from the bar. (ok, sorry, I know this is a lot of in between talking, but seriously!?! These are polite, handsome, sober men, dressed up, with full heads of hair and all of their teeth-IN KLAMATH!! and they want to serve me. I am thinking I may need to reevaluate everything I know to be true. Please stand by while I try some deep breathing and attempt to get my thoughts aligned.)
We order drinks (mom sprite, me, lite beer for fortitude) and go in to find our seats. In the middle of the room, there is a stage and runway/catwalk made out of plywood, and there, right in the center, jutting out in all of it's hand made glory, is a galvanized stripper pole. A friend of Mom's has saved seats for us, and they are directly at the end of the catwalk, with a first class view of everything that will grace the stage for the next hour or so. I desperately suck on my lite beer hoping it will somehow give me a buzz if I drink it fast enough (it didn't). The lights dim. I am getting a little nervous, luckily Willie swings by and drops off another cold one just in time (I think I might be in love).
Now, I would like to mention that this is the first "review" I have ever been to-ever. I glance around the room and look at the other women (and a few men) that are there with me and am getting the feeling that this isn't their first rodeo. A nice lady gets up on stage and shows us (probably mostly just me) how to properly hold our money so we can stick it in the panties of the dancers. Again I glance around, and see that everyone but me (and Mom) already has their money like this. I am so out of my league.
Thankfully, the first dancer out is Tracy's husband. He was fun to watch and actually a pretty good dancer-I am starting to feel like I might actually survive this night after all. Ladies (and one old guy) are having a great time, money is flying everywhere, I am laughing. There is one lady in the front row scrambling after dropped dollars to "recycle" them. I notice a really old lady in a wheelchair with a afghan over her lap and can't help but laugh. Was Klamath this fun when I lived here?
Dancer after dancer shuffle out to shake their stuff, and we are entertained by a cop, a hula dancer, a leprechaun, a hippie, bad Santa, and on and on. These costumes are amazing, the attention to detail is hilarious, but my personal favorite was the layers of underwear. I don't know if it was pride or what (probably their wives made them, for the sake of everyone) but there was always at least 2 pairs of undies. Tighty whities seemed to be the under layer of choice, but one guy even wore cut off jeans under his fancy tuxedo thong panties. Over and over men came out in their underwear(s) with knee socks pulled all the way up and shiny church shoes on (or velcro orthopedics). I start to get a cramp.
At one point Mom had to sneak out to use the ladies room and when she came back there was a guy wearing camo with a stuffed python hanging out of his pants. When she realized what it was, she immediately covered her eyes and made an audible squeak (guess there are fun limits-ha!)
One fellow sat on my lap, one did his best sexy dance by trying to floss his ass (through countless layers of undies) with a sparkly winter scarf, one played bagpipes, Santa had candy canes.
It is obvious to me now that I am wasting my time. There is no way I can possibly convey the sheer amazingness of the evening to you. My only advice would be to try and catch a show if you ever get a chance, I hear they are already getting requests for future bookings....Elks lodge anyone? Even if you have to steal your baby's milk money and pay with quarters-GO!
I found out that the lady in the wheelchair was 99 years old, and getting to ogle Klamath's finest was her valentines day present. I am telling you the truth when I say I have never had as much fun in Klamath before. (well maybe one time, but I can't tell you that secret, since it's mine)