Okay so not really. I have about 47-Eleventy-nine and a half bazillion photos to sort through and still edit from both BlogHer15 and BloggerBash NYC and #BabyFat is so close to being an Actual Book I can almost FEEL IT. And then I got a #Dimelo question for my Latina magazine advice column asking if it's okay for married men to go to strip clubs with their single friends.
I'll tell you the story about the time I worked in a strip club once, but it's gonna have to wait until I have five minutes AT THE SAME TIME, so that's totally not right now. Keep your shorts on, people, I was as a fully-clothed waitress with a penchant for losing $300 in tips in my cleavage until I got home and took off my bra. But I can't tell you THAT story until after I tell you about the boob reduction I had at age 24 to take me from somehwere north of 38GGG and land me right in DDD territory AND time to tell you about why I really don't give a shit when The Husband happens to be pegged for DD duty when a buddy wants to go out because you can't just lose that kind of cash in a training bra. (FYI for the new kids in class - the first group of D's is my boobs. The second is for Designated Driver. You're *Welcome*). Strippers are in it for the cash. It's a job. My husband is a cheap-ass, so the fact that he's ridiculous on the Good-Looking-O-Meter really doesn't give him any ground to stand on next to the nerdiest, goofiest looking buck-toothed bald man with a wad of singles in his hand.
Basically, I got more play at the gay bar with my GBF in college than The Husband EVER will in a strip club. Also? Thanks to Kelly Wickham for my new and forever answer whenever I get this question sent my way again.
Ladies? Should you let your husband off his leash to go see naked ladies dancing in tiny G-strings? Ummm... depends on how interesting you find this video tutorial on how to get the perfect sloppy hair bun.