Just Cause She Dances on a Pole...

This past Saturday found me (and five friends) swinging around a pole in 6-inch heels and underwear.

No joke.

It also found us learning the finer points of the strip tease, the exotic dance, and how turn a plain old chair into something obscene. Oh right, and it taught everyone else how to pick up a $20 dollar bill with their thighs (this was the one skill that eluded me and will, I expect, until I stop going to the gym).

PhiloNYE now has the potential to turn into something very disturbing indeed.

You see, I am stupid. Very stupid. I am even more moronic when Liquid Stupidity hits my bloodstream. On top of all of this stupidity there is a distinct lack of grace and an even larger lack of shame. I am nothing if not a proud and drunken giraffe in a china shop.

Unedited pictures, I am sure, will be posted after the New Year by my compatriots and I expect more than one to include involuntary shots of my panties and/or me falling off of a street sign pole, legs in a pretzel that I won't be able to untwist on my own.

...and I expect to be smiling like a fuckin' moron when all this goes down.