The Journal of David Hill|
Harlow a Go-Go
10/26/2005 12:08 a.m.
I bought some shoes that I am quite proud of. They are black and white checkered, lace-less canvas shoes with elastic wedges on either side of the tongue. These are styled like the sneakers that a really corny old guy would have worn along with some mint green double knit shorts back in the 70’s, accept these look very 80’s, very Cheap Trick, thanks to the checks.
Back in college, I had Indian Scout Boots. These were fringed lace-up moccasins that came to just below the knee. Peter Tork, the least likable Monkee, wears them in several episodes of their show.
Am I style challenged?
No, I am cool, cool like Johnny Bravo Brady. As a young fellow, I was hot for Marsha. Then, as I matured, I developed a certain lust for shag coiffed Carol Brady (something permed Mike never had). Now, in these my declining years, Alice the Maid is looking pretty darn good.
In the 90’s, I briefly worked as a male stripper, or, since I consider it an art form, I prefer the term exotic dancer. I worked the nursing home circuit here in the south, primarily doing birthday celebrations at the Meadow Brook Manor chain.
In, many ways, my show resembled a Rod Stewart concert. “Rubber Band Man,” “I’m Just a Love Machine,” “Kung Fu Fighting,” and Ted Nugent’s “Wango Tango” were my big numbers. I could work the little white puff bent wire ladies into quite a lather, what with my Elvis like lip sneer. Instead of throwing their panties, however, these nasty girls tossed their depends.
How I hated when they stuck.
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