Hello.
I had a traumatic experience tonight and I need to talk about it on my blog.
You see, there was a stripper in the Indian restaurant.
Let me explain:
My father and I decided to have dinner together tonight. “There’s an Indian restaurant in downtown Scottsdale that I like,” he said. “They have vegan options.” My father did not mention that they also have a stripper, so I agreed to go.
We walked into the restaurant, and the Indian music was blasting. Not, like, loud dinner music, more like we’d just walked into a fucking Delhi discotheque. Blasting. I looked at my dad. “Is it always like this?” I screamed. “No,” he screamed back, “but usually I come here for lunch.” At least that’s what I think he said. He could have said “I enjoy performing oral sex on marsupials” for all I know, because I couldn’t hear him over the music.
As we followed the hostess to our seats, my father pointed at something. I followed his hand and saw a hooker wearing a belly dancer outfit. She was getting freaky with one of the waitresses in front of a family with small children attempting to enjoy their naan and curry. Now, let me be clear here: There is nothing lewd about belly dancing, and I understand and appreciate that it is a respected art in certain parts of the world. This was not a belly dancer. The craft of belly dancing, as I understand it, does not involve 28-inch synthetic hair extensions and dollar bills around one’s waist. This was a 19-year-old sorority girl wearing cheap drug-store makeup and essentially dancing as she would in a hip-hop club while occasionally moving her hands around in what I might actually deem an offensive impression of belly dancing.
As we sat down, I kept turning around to stare at the stripper, and my face must have shown my shock. “This really bothers you, doesn’t it?” my dad commented. I didn’t know how to respond. She had dollar bills in her underpants. In a family restaurant. She was going table to table shaking her ass in people’s faces and making them pay her for it. “Dad!” I said. “There’s a stripper in the restaurant! There are children here!” My dad is a very “live and let live” sort of person. “She probably took a few belly dancing classes and knows the owner,” he said.
“Then why didn’t he give her a job as a waitress?”
Eventually she came over to our table and my dad tried to take a picture of her with his cell phone camera. She posed politely, and then gestured to him to pay up. Seriously. Like a fucking stripper would. Stuck her hand out and made the “now you give me money” gesture. My dad laughed and gave me a dollar bill to give to her, because my dad was not about to stick a dollar bill in her fucking underwear, because that is what you do with a stripper. And I was like, “Oh, no, if we’re gonna play this game, we are gonna play this game,” and I grabbed my wallet and got a few more dollars out and broke out my digital camera. She motioned for me to get up and dance with her, and I always enjoy playing with the strippers, so I gave the camera to my dad and I hopped up and got jiggy with her. She pointed to her head, which she was shifting back and forth, walk-like-an-Egyptian style. “It’s all about the head!” she shouted over the pounding music. Every ounce of my body wanted to be like “They pay way better for anal!” but instead I just smiled politely and danced with her while my dad took photos. Then I stuck a wad of cash in her underwear and she didn’t bother us any more.
I should also mention that our orders took forever to come and at one point the waitress came up to us, stared at our table with all of our glasses empty, and asked if there was anything we needed. My dad was like, “Uh … can we get another round of Diet Cokes?” The entire employee base was distracted by the stripper. Nothing was getting done in that restaurant.
In fact, the only useful thing about the stripper was that she gave me an opportunity to clearly define the term “hot mess” for my father.
Without further ado, and since I paid good money for it, the Indian restaurant stripper photo gallery:
Why all the hate? Aubrey O’Day has to earn a living SOMEHOW!
Haha you can totally see she has way shorter hair than that shit weave she has on… oh, also as a nail technician, I personally haven’t given anyone acrylic or gel nails that long and if I EVER do (I would try and talk them out of it), I’m going to always automatically assume they are or once were a stripper.
“Waitress who should be getting me a refill” lmao
Ahhh this blog is such a win!!
lol
she looks hideous.
Yes I agree, the “waitress who should be getting me a refill” puts it so succinctly. You get a gold star! Best blog so far of 2009
AWESOME EYE MAKEUP
Best. Caption. Ever.
With your chalkline commentary, you are now the Perez Hilton of the Scottsdale Indian restaurant sripper scene.
classic post, Beet. classic.
Omg. Shes one butt ugly stripper.
“They pay way better for anal!”
LMFAO!!! I had to read this post aloud to my husband simply because of that one line.
Good stuff, Sasha. Thank you for this story!
LMAO
Sasha,
Which restaurant was this??? I have to see this for myself! LMAO!!!!!
I don’t want to write the name of the restaurant here because I don’t want them to find this article in a Google search. But if you go to Google Maps and type in “indian restaraunt in scottsdale az,” it’s the second hit. The one on 5th ave.
Thanks! BTW, next time you are in town, check out Udupi Cafe on Scottsdale Rd. They say they can make 80% of their menu vegan so you should check it out!
beet, you make my day brighter. that was pure blog magic. you are una cabrona as we say in spanish, thats kinda synonymous to be a motherfucking badass. ilyy
I busted out laughing. You rock, Beet.
Omg, best blog EVER! :D LOL!!
“They pay way better for anal!” <— BRILLIANT! If you’d have said it, omg lol!
I have a belly can i dance too??
aaahahahahahahaa….priceless.
Awww Beeet!
Te Amooo!
you fucking rock chick.
and man that hooochie is ooogly..
Holy Scottsdale!!!!! It looks like Brooke Hogan immediately after her monthly series of male horse hormone injections from the Southwest Equine Hospital. Give her some oats and let her roam the back 40. In the first photo, what are those marks on her arm? Flea bites? Money is probably tight. Tuition payments must be a bitch in Arizona. What is she, from out of state?
i ehf in love you!
Hahahaha. You’re hilarious.
the pictures are hilarious. great post.
Heyyyy nothing wrong with drug store makeup.. I work at rite aid and we have a pretty bangin selection and you can return anything that’s not right for you.
wow, she is hideous.
Sasha…. I sent this to my dad, just so he could know wtf I was babbling about while we ran. I’m not sure he thought it was as funny as i did but he loves the pics…
Oh dear this was gold!
I hope she somehow reads this I realllllly do!
your just a hater.
Somehow I missed this post the first time around. lol. That’s a shame.