I was well aware of what to expect (contrary to popular belief, I do not live under a rock), and, I did my best to prepare Queen B, who, despite not yet being the legal drinking age, was allowed to purchase a ticket and to attend the show, provided she did not drink.
Despite my graphic description of what to expect, Queen B's reaction to the show was akin to that of a Puritan; she was shocked, y'all! And, appalled!
It was awesome!
And I only made fun of her a little bit, because, you know, Baby's first stripper! That's a Mother-Daughter bonding moment right there, folks.
The bride and her besties (or, as I referred to them: Those Smug Betches) were on one team while the Mother of the Bride and the rest of us MILFs (or, as those Smug Betches referred to us, The Moldy Oldies) were on another.
Those Smug Betches
Although the list was better suited to the younger set, we were thisclose to beating Those Smug Betches when they snagged a pro football player with whom to take a selfie that he was then required to post to his Instagram (see what I mean? We were handicapped!), which tipped the contest in their favor.
The MILFs, aka: The Moldy Oldies
It was still fun, and we got to explore a large part of the city.
I realize that is a really tame way to end an evening that started off with naked male buttocks, so, maybe Queen B comes by her Puritan ways naturally.
We're like, half-Puritan.
Ok, maybe one-quarter...I really liked the buttocks.
I still don't think they are all Australian, though...