Why Is There An Orgy On The Dance Floor?

I arrived back home from my Virginia business trip late Friday afternoon. Some friends of mine had plans to go to Jacksonville's finest country and western establishment, The Tarheel. My original idea was that I would be too tired and irritated after working all morning and a five hour drive home (especially after that nice chat with Martin County's sheriff about my lead foot when he pulled me over for going 70mph in a 55mph zone). Not to mention that I think line dancing is fairly ridiculous unless you are completely inebriated (even then, it is still a tad ridiculous). And yet, despite being road weary and worn out, I couldn't resist the siren's call of The Tarheel. I'd heard too much about this place.

And I wasn't disappointed.

Are any of my readers familiar with Nitty Gritty Dirt Band's song "Fishin' In The Dark"? It is a little ditty chock full of double entendres about a guy taking his girl out for some... well... ahem... fishin'. Not exactly subtle but kind of cute.

Cute is not what The Tarheel had in mind when they came up with their well known dance for this song:



Holy crap! There was some baby-making going on out there. No, seriously. Some of them are going to have a tangible reminder of Friday night's activities in about nine months.

A guy that I had been talking to noticed my mouth agape and asked if I wanted to be "fished". I usually don't let a guy gyrate on top of me until I at least know his last name. He assured me that he would be (and, yes, I quote) "a gentleman". Since I have never been dry-humped in a gentlemanly manner, I laid down on a filthy dance floor and allowed 6 foot 3 giant to dance over me. Go ahead and judge me. It. Was. Awesome!

Don't be surprised if you are dancing at my wedding to "Fishin' In The Dark". I am obsessed with this song now! Oh yeah... and that guy cooked me dinner last night. Because who can resist a dry-humping gentleman?

Kids Say The Darndest Things (Especially When They Are 19 Year Old Marines)

Conversations between myself and one of my students today:

Him: You aren't retired military like the rest of the instructors, are you, ma'am?
Me: No. I just did one tour in the Army and have been a contractor ever since.
Him: Figures... all the pretty girls are in the Army.
Me: Make sure you put your name and information on the roster.
Him: Okay... but I don't know my unit's duty phone number.
Me: That's fine. Just put the name of your unit in that block. We'll make sure you get credit.
Him: Maybe I should just put my cell number there... for you... so... you can like call me... you know... if you wanted to... ma'am.

I am not sure if I should be flattered or horrified that a 19 year old managed to hit on me and call me ma'am in the same sentence. I think these kids have watched too many repeats of "Top Gun". Well, I am no Kelly McGillis (although the fishnets stockings she rocked in her classroom were the shit!)



Come to think of it, that kid has probably never even seen "Top Gun" since it came out before he was even born. Pardon me while I go cry in to my Bloody Mary.

Psssssst: I have to admit... it was kind of sweet and my head barely fit through the door for the rest of the day.