My wallet was empty after the charity auction. Of course, my wallet was empty before the auction too. I donated my time and money to strippers.

Around the outside of the room other beautiful women wearing little or nothing at all flitted between the infatuated, intoxicated men, sometimes luring them away for a private dance. The men would follow obediently, weighed...

Exotic dancers, your instant key to a blissful vacation of the moment.

He told me he was used to getting what he wanted.

She was no stripper with a heart of gold, that was for sure. A heart of steel, more like.

I think we should throw money at artists, not at girls who take their clothes off because they made a bad choice in life.

I was a hip kid. When I saw Bambi it was the midnight show.

What good is it if they miss your face but not your mind?

He said I’m the winning lottery ticket, like he’s never meant anything more.

She lives like tomorrow isn’t coming and yesterday never happened.

Motorcycle helmets are bottomless. Strippers are topless. And my love is middleless.

If I say your breasts are perfect, don’t tell me I’m wrong—prove me wrong by showing me. If more people voted with their wallets, more strippers would be elected officials.