Look...at some point in your life you've either:
a) dated a stripper
b) spent an obnoxious amount of money in a strip-club
c) been kicked out of a strip club
d) taken a stripper to dinner when her shift was over
e) all of the above
The Body Shop in Pompano Beach has always been a personal favorite of mine ever since I can remember but the other night as I passed by, I was saddened to see that the legend was no more. Instead of the normal bunch of random cars, the parking lot was occupied by two large Ryder trucks and there were guys hauling out chairs, tables, and what-not. The marquee, which had somehow survived Hurricane Wilma and that had said SUPERBOWL PARTY for the past 3 months was gone....
There were so many things that made this place so great...
There's this one woman (and I stress the word WOMAN) that must be at least 50 years old and she wears more make up than the entire Ringling Brothers Circus clowns and she smells like onions yet she always made it a point to spot me out of the crowd and come over and sit on my lap and do this repulsive leaning back sorta thing and she tried to be sexy but dammit...I don't know what it was but it sure as hell wasn't sexy. I always enjoyed shooting her down and watching her get up and wabble off in her beat-up high-heels with tape on the straps. Now that was sexy!
The Body Shop (or as I liked to call it; The Shop) was sort of a skanky type place (not that skanky is a bad thing) but at the same time it was really cozy. Sure, there's the Booby Trap, the Cheetah, or to a lesser extent; Diamond Dolls but none of those clubs have that vibe where you felt like you were at a saloon in the middle of the old west where literally anything could jump off at any moment.
Body Shop...I don't know what happened or where you went, but just know that you will most certainly be missed.
God, I will be wicked-pissed if they turn it into a Starbucks!