In Dr. Strangelove, General Jack Ripper informs Mandrake that he is unwilling to have his “precious bodily fluids” sapped and impurified.
This is why I don’t like giving blood samples or having strippers try to grind one off through the pants of my expensive suits.
That said, observe Belladonna Suicide (no relation) and Electronica of gentlemen’s club warehouse Sapphire of Las Vegas. They stand flanking a traditional stripper, who seems to sense the wind is changing.
I asked about their pasties because it would have been impertinent of me to ask them to read saucy selections from their LiveJournals while backing slowly into me in the bathroom at Denny’s.
“I just go down to the hardware store and buy lots of electrical tape,” Electronica told me.
“Do you declare it on your taxes?” I asked.
“I suppose I could,” she said.
Electronica is from Los Angeles and Suicide is from Baltimore. How they ended up here is a task that can only be completed via trolling MySpace pages and/or feeding them twenties for hours at a time. And the MySpace page Electronica gave me is down, so you’ll have to resort to the twenties.
Were I to go to Sapphire’s, I would be in serious danger of severely sapping my personal economy and precious bodily fluids in their immediate proximity.