Maybe it’s because I’m scarred for life, but this ad doesn’t make me hungry or aroused. Instead, it just reminds me of a horrible experience with a chubby stripper and a giant, drippy slice of pizza.

Scarred for Life

I was living and working in Tampa at the time, and since I was new to the city I only had a couple of acquaintances. One of them, a binge-drinking Czechoslovakian named Pavel, thought it would be great to take me to a strip club. The thing is, I fucking hate strip clubs. I love naked women, but the idea of paying some chick to pay attention to me is moronic. If I have to give any girl five bucks just to look at me, I don’t want anything to do with her. To make things worse, Tampa has anti-nudity laws that prevent strip clubs from being actual strip clubs. Intead they have to be bikini and underwear clubs because if someone sees a nipple apparently they’ll go into a raping frenzy and state-wide killing spree. But on the upside the place had beer, which is what finally made me agree to go. At least I wouldn’t have to go through the ordeal sober.

Pavel had his own bar routine which he followed unconsciously no matter what bar or club he was in. After getting a table, he would walk up to the bar and order two bottles of some swill. He would drink one as he walked back to the table, and once there would immediately turn around and walk back to the bar to reload, drinking the second bottle along the way. Bottle on the way back from the bar, bottle on the way to the bar. Rinse, repeat. He’d do this all night without stopping until he was either on the floor, kicked out, or if the place was really busy and thus slowed his bar-table-bar loop, it closed.

So there we were in this “strip” bar in Tampa, with Pavel is doing his usual laps and getting shit-hammered in the process. I was sitting at a table by myself. It was in the back on a slightly elevated level, about two steps up. Right in front of me was another table, two steps down. Just as Pavel left to do another lap to the bar, a portly stripper in a horribly stereotyped and ill-fitting schoolgirl getup sat on the lap of some poor fool at that table just below me. Not only was she rather round, but as she squirmed on the guy’s lap I noticed a gigantic, limp, dripping slice of pizza in her hand. She’d take a huge bite every few seconds and chew with her mouth open, never looking at the man who’s lap she was writhing on. Her lower half may as well have been a different body because her torso, arms and head were all focused on the pizza while her hips and legs seemed focused on earning a few bills to buy another slice. It was vile. Bits of cheese and crust crumbs were falling on her victim and sauce dribbling down her chin. The place was busy, so I couldn’t really leave my table without losing it and Pavel was doing drunk-laps… so all I could do is sit there. I already hated strip clubs and this just put me over the top. The horror show went on for about 15 minutes, and as soon as Pavel came around for another lap I grabbed him by the arm and we left. He was blitzed enough for me to convince him that a little dive bar down the street would be just as much fun, and once there he couldn’t tell the difference between bikers and bikinis.

Kudos to Quiznos though for having the sack to go ahead with this ad. For me, it just brings up horrible chubby stripper memories and I lose my appetite.