Chip: "But will these sexy stylists mount me, if I offer a bigger tip?"
Richard: "Doubtful, Chip. This is not a whorehouse. But I'll bet they might offer a happy ending like certain massage parlors and, if so, I'll be driving to KC for each and every haircut."
Check out the website here:
www.knockouts.net
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Richard might have been the youngest guy in the bar (rare) at Friday evening's early Replay patio acoustic set by Bill Goffrier, formerly of legendary early-80's Wichita-based rock band The Embarrassment. The show was so important that KC's Pitch sent a reviewer over, who offered this assessment in his write-up:
"Now, an early evening acoustic patio show at The Replay is a bit like a marshmallow-filled cowpie. With each artist you get increasingly close to the gooey sugary center, but it takes a lot of swallowing to get there."
Richard: "I don't really understand what he means, but allow me to retort in this fashion: Oh yeah, well, a late-night show at KC's Czar Bar or Riot Room is like a shit sandwich!"
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Former Missouri resident Susan Ad.ms is dismayed by the inhospitable treatment she has received since moving to Larryville, as we see in her recent LJ-World editorial:
"I have been at a loss to understand the use of the word “hate” or “don't like” when Lawrence citizens learn that I have lived in Missouri. While raising four children we were subjected to negative statements from our Kansas relatives because we lived in Missouri. Now that I live in Lawrence I have received from new neighbors, new acquaintances, Kansas relatives and administrators continued and unabashed insults from having lived in Missouri."
Chip: "Actually, my elders in Forttt Scottt taught me NOT to hate people from Missouri, because they can't help being retarded."
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Perhaps Larryville is not as awesome as we think, however, since (according to the UDK) barely 1500 people could be lured out for a city-wide drinking binge known as the Larryville Luau (despite the fact that almost 9000 people on Facebook promised to attend).
Thatonedude explains the disinterest in the UDK talkback:
"Nobody turned out because nobody cares that much. It's a completely arbitrary event with nothing but lousy drink specials at, as the person above pointed out, fratter bars. Give me a decent special or two at Henry's or Jazz House, and we'd be in business."
Chip: "But who wants to get 'lei'd' at Henry's Upstairs, which is usually full of pompous international grad students discussing Fellini, whoever that is. This event seems perfectly suited to 'fratter bars' and yet the kids didn't even show up to fuck and fight. Disappointing."
6 comments:
The styling salon seems like a trap to me. I go in there expecting a pair of tits in my face so that I might observe the glittery lotion so gently massaged into her cleavage before work this morning and inhale the nectar-y scent of her perfume and stare longingly at her ass as she continually "drops the scissors" right in front of me. I hope this salon has a change of pants ready for me midway through the haircut, or a hat that i can use to cover the stain as I walk out. And Chip, insert a boner joke or two if you will...
I get a boner any time a woman cuts my hair, much less a Knockout vixen. Also, I wonder if these haircuts follow the same "no touching" rule as lapdances often do, or whether I can squeeze asses while getting a trim?
the boys in my life are keeping it classy as usual... :)
Why isn't there a similarly sexist salon for ladies where the hairstylists are not gay men but rather burly straight guys who will rub their johnsons on us while we get a perm?
[yes, we use the word 'johnsons' and get perms].
I would gladly rub my Johnson on any woman requesting. However, if you wish for me to do your hair in the process, it better be a simple, abbreviated affair because, as well all know, after rubbing my Johnson on a woman for 2 1/2 minutes, I will roll over and fall asleep immediately.
I often squeeze ass while getting some trim.
And speaking of Fellini, I actually came across that piece of LC history: the plan for The Experiment, scrolled on the back of some found porn. The timetable made me nostalgic . . . the porn gave me a boner and a chuckle.
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