On Saturday night, Eric and I met some friends from out of town for dinner at a local brewpub, Thirsty Bear. Across the street from Thirsty Bear is the Gold Club, which is a strip club.
We had Emerson with us, as we almost always do, and I was curious if an adorable, well-behaved baby would be allowed into the strip club.* The question is purely academic, of course, but I was curious to know the answer. And it was easy to find out.
"Could we bring him in?" I asked the bouncers standing out in front of the club.
"Uh....no," they responded.
So there you have it. Babies are not welcome in strip clubs.
*For the breast-fed babe, I suppose this would feel like being at some sort of dancing buffet?
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When you've had your fill here
A little more about me
I don’t expect that my blog will be of enduring interest to anyone other than perhaps my mother (who, incidentally, struggles tremendously with the “technology” of the blog) but if you find yourself here and reading it, you might like to know a few things about me.
I grew up in Chicago and have moved every few years since going away to college, which is tough. Just a few months ago I moved from Washington DC to San Francisco and my mother seamlessly switched from worrying about terrorist attacks on our nation’s capital to worrying about earthquakes. I have a younger brother who just moved back to Chicago after five years in Barcelona and speaks Spanish fluently, but still not as well as I do.
I have a few superpowers: parallel parking, getting ready to go quickly, and sleeping on airplanes.
I’m an average dancer. I have an MBA. I like pumpkin pie. All things pumpkin-flavored, really. I wonder if that might be a sign that I have a beta carotene deficiency.
I am almost definitely not living up to my potential.
I am madly in love with my husband Eric; possibly obnoxiously so. I often wonder what I ever did to deserve him. Probably nothing, but I try not to let that lure me into dangerous moments of self-sabotage. Try.
So, pretty much I’m just your typical 31 year old professional-type woman trying to figure it all out. And though I am usually a pretty upbeat gal, I am a little worried about the future. Maybe, sometimes, a lot worried. But as I have learned in yoga and from endless books on being happy, the present moment is where it is at and so that is where I (try) to live. And where I blog. Comments welcome.
I grew up in Chicago and have moved every few years since going away to college, which is tough. Just a few months ago I moved from Washington DC to San Francisco and my mother seamlessly switched from worrying about terrorist attacks on our nation’s capital to worrying about earthquakes. I have a younger brother who just moved back to Chicago after five years in Barcelona and speaks Spanish fluently, but still not as well as I do.
I have a few superpowers: parallel parking, getting ready to go quickly, and sleeping on airplanes.
I’m an average dancer. I have an MBA. I like pumpkin pie. All things pumpkin-flavored, really. I wonder if that might be a sign that I have a beta carotene deficiency.
I am almost definitely not living up to my potential.
I am madly in love with my husband Eric; possibly obnoxiously so. I often wonder what I ever did to deserve him. Probably nothing, but I try not to let that lure me into dangerous moments of self-sabotage. Try.
So, pretty much I’m just your typical 31 year old professional-type woman trying to figure it all out. And though I am usually a pretty upbeat gal, I am a little worried about the future. Maybe, sometimes, a lot worried. But as I have learned in yoga and from endless books on being happy, the present moment is where it is at and so that is where I (try) to live. And where I blog. Comments welcome.
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