Post recovered from www.alyssalouheater.com
Jumbo’s Clown Room has, for months now, been a drunken destination that I’ve lusted after. Ever since I went on that Dearly Departed Tour (love you, River), visions of dicked-chicks have danced in my head. Many a coworker has boasted about the onstage spectacle at Jumbo’s Clown Room; I simply needed to take a peek, myself.
After two failed attempts, a third opportunity arises. I can barely contain myself during the final hours of my work week, as I anticipate what majesty is to come later that evening. The day has finally come to a close, so I touch up my makeup and head over to 5153 Hollywood Boulevard. Yeah, it’s only 6pm, but that makes it all the more pathetic and sleazy. I park my car, slip on my tallest heels, and head for the entrance. Ahh fuck, it just feels dirty: the chain-smoking bouncer, the random homeless dude, a bevy of large, lesbian regulars...perfect. I flash my ID and the doorman snidely retorts “you’re in for a treat.” I push aside the velvet curtain.
Jumbo’s Clown Room has, for months now, been a drunken destination that I’ve lusted after. Ever since I went on that Dearly Departed Tour (love you, River), visions of dicked-chicks have danced in my head. Many a coworker has boasted about the onstage spectacle at Jumbo’s Clown Room; I simply needed to take a peek, myself.
After two failed attempts, a third opportunity arises. I can barely contain myself during the final hours of my work week, as I anticipate what majesty is to come later that evening. The day has finally come to a close, so I touch up my makeup and head over to 5153 Hollywood Boulevard. Yeah, it’s only 6pm, but that makes it all the more pathetic and sleazy. I park my car, slip on my tallest heels, and head for the entrance. Ahh fuck, it just feels dirty: the chain-smoking bouncer, the random homeless dude, a bevy of large, lesbian regulars...perfect. I flash my ID and the doorman snidely retorts “you’re in for a treat.” I push aside the velvet curtain.
My excitement fades to disappointment as I notice that all the dancers are young, cute girls. I think only one had a visible c-section scar. Fuuuuck this! No penises are being waggled at me, well, at least not until later in the night, and this upsets me! Noticing my obvious upset, my pal(?) decides Gold Diggers shall be our next destination. He promises a depressingly sheisty dive bar with strong drinks and illegal immigrants dancing onstage. I’m game.
Let me tell you, Gold Diggers is the shit…potent cocktails, 40-year-old Thai strippers, chicken chow mein festering under a heat lamp, and a bartender who is VERY proud of her chicken chow mein. I highly recommend this bar.
Let me tell you, Gold Diggers is the shit…potent cocktails, 40-year-old Thai strippers, chicken chow mein festering under a heat lamp, and a bartender who is VERY proud of her chicken chow mein. I highly recommend this bar.
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