Barbie and Jasper Cullen (with a lil boob on the side)

A couple of weeks ago, one of my oldest friends came out so that we could have a good old-fashioned girls night. We had made a plan to see this band called 100 Monkeys, of which one of its members is Jackson Rathbone aka Jasper Cullen from the movie "Twilight". Now, I'd never heard of them prior to her pointing me their way, but I was excited nonetheless. So we first view art at this gallery (art show was Mr. Rathbone's sister's), and then we headed to the upstairs of the art gallery where we were up close and personal in a rather intimate show with the band. I was rather impressed! We later hit up a pub where they were playing a midnight show, and this is where things get weird for ole Sassy and Reedsy (friend). So let me set the scene: It's a very warm, very humid night in Big D. A/C in Texas is a must, people! It's fucking hot, and you feel as if you are melting once you step outside the cool oasis that is central air conditioning. As we are sitting in this room that must have doubled for a fucking sweatbox torture hole with no ventilation sweating our asses off, Reedsy decides she'll grab the first round of beers. Now, while she's gone, I take a seat on this lounge chair thingy next to these two young women. As I am sitting there with steam coming off my body from the level of heat and lack of air, I hear one say to the other, "Oh no! You are SO much hotter!" I stifle a laugh because as I turn to look their way, I make eye contact with one of them who I swear looks just like a Barbie doll, down to her platinum blonde hair and flawless skin. Both are dressed in skintight pants and very low cut tops, but Barbie's boobies are fucking perfect! They aren't freakishly large or anything crazy like that though. It's unreal, and so I quickly make the determination that they are indeed fake boobies, and that she and her friend are most likely strippers.

Now, as is how it always goes with me, these ladies start talking to me, first about the band and what I know about them, and then about themselves. So I decided to ask them questions. I first ask if they are from the Dallas area, to which they both say no. "Chrissy" is from Ohio originally, and Barbie is from Houston. However, they've both just arrived in town today from Midland. I ask if they are living there for work or for school, to which they answer, "Oh, we work there." I reply, "Oh, so what do you guys do?" *Crickets* The two girls just look at each other with more than a bit of reticence. I mean, the pause was definitely one that you would refer to as a "pregnant pause". So I lean in conspiratorially and say, "Y'all are strippers, aren't you?" Barbie breaks out in a huge smile and says, "YES! But we prefer the term "dancers". How did you know?" I explained that the boobies gave it away. So ensued a conversation of about how it was the best investment she ever made, and that she and her friend bank about $200,000 a year "dancing". WTF? I have two degrees and $35K in student loans, and these bitches are pulling in $200K for taking their clothes off? Where is the justice in that, I ask?! About this time, Reedsy returns with the beers and hears the course of my conversation with Barbie and Chrissy. I lean in and tell her that Barbie's stage name is "Malibu", and that they pull in some major coin doing what they do. She replies, "You meet THE most interesting people, Sassy!" Then Barbie launches into the fact that she wants to sleep with Jackson Rathbone, or any of the guys because they are quasi-famous, they drove all the way down here, yada, yada, yada. Then she goes back to her boobs and that I should feel them. Pardon me? I tell her, I don't think so. She says, "But they aren't hard like other types of boob jobs, come on, feel 'em!" At this point she grabs my hand and puts it on her left boob...so I squeeze a little. Damned if they didn't FEEL REAL, people! Several friends have had boob jobs, and they always want you to feel them. (Yes, gentlemen, we cop a feel of each other in private sometimes...but it's totally innocuous you fucking pervs!). Anywho, I exclaim, "They DO feel real!" Barbie leans in, gives me a wink, and says, "That's because I got silicone not saline. Silicone tits feel real. Here, feel the other one!" Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that there were a few gentlemen that had gone from trying to just glance over at Barbie to outright staring as I copped a feel. So,I let her know that I can't cop another feel of her in public, so she laughs and goes off on some other tangent about how smart she is, the options she had after high school, and why she chose to become a "dancer". Yeah. Right.

So to end the night, we did get to talk to a few of the band members, but Mr. Rathbone was not talking to anyone other than his family that was there. So, we left and headed home. All in all, it was a top night. We got some great pictures, heard some great tunes, and met a real live Malibu Barbie. Plus, I got a little more action than I bargained for. All I know is, when I go for the new boobs, I'm totally getting the silicone. Ladies and gentlemen, I shit you not, they felt like the real deal.

**BTW Barbie was stunningly beautiful...with or without the fake boobies. She truly looked like a Barbie doll. She was sweet if not a bit shallow. I really have no judgment about strippers though. Live and let live, I say...