I went to see his Dogginess himself, Snoop Dogg, yesterday for some Friday night fun at the O2 arena. (I'm not a big fan of the huge, soulless venue which stipulates that the show ends at 11pm precisely with no encore exceptions, as I'm more into dive bars and sweaty clubs when it comes to watching live music). But the show was a fab suprise, as I hadn't realised how many songs were his - even though I was still battling my stripper-flu, I was waggling my little bottom on the terraces for a good hour and twenty!
Snoop Dogg is synonymous with strippers, biatches, ho's, and general gyrating hotty-botty's of the female persuasion. I hear his songs at least once a night at any stripclub I've ever worked at, whether it's his old 90's stuff or the more recent bass-thumping crowd pleasers. He even met a bunch of my friends when he launched his new album 'Doggumentary' at Platinum Lace last May. I loved the pictures of him surrounded by sexy dancing pals in black spandex romper suits whilst he smiled, full row of gnashers gleaming, and sat on his trademark throne.
I was planning to go to work after, but then when the concert finished at 11pm I realised that I was too late even for the late late shift, and that my stripper flu was still hanging around, like a man in a dirty mac who is nursing the last drops of beer so he can drivel at the titties on stage. I've spoken to lots of people who have similar symptoms of exhaustion and horrible hacking coughs full of green flem, so I guess something is going around ol'London town now that the heatwave has gone and the weather is changing back to it's usual drizzly English self.
So I guess I'll just have to keep my tiny toned arse sitting on the sofa for another night till my stripper flu subsides, and if I miss the club, I'll just recreate last night with some Snoop Dogg tunage...
Snoop Dogg is synonymous with strippers, biatches, ho's, and general gyrating hotty-botty's of the female persuasion. I hear his songs at least once a night at any stripclub I've ever worked at, whether it's his old 90's stuff or the more recent bass-thumping crowd pleasers. He even met a bunch of my friends when he launched his new album 'Doggumentary' at Platinum Lace last May. I loved the pictures of him surrounded by sexy dancing pals in black spandex romper suits whilst he smiled, full row of gnashers gleaming, and sat on his trademark throne.
I was planning to go to work after, but then when the concert finished at 11pm I realised that I was too late even for the late late shift, and that my stripper flu was still hanging around, like a man in a dirty mac who is nursing the last drops of beer so he can drivel at the titties on stage. I've spoken to lots of people who have similar symptoms of exhaustion and horrible hacking coughs full of green flem, so I guess something is going around ol'London town now that the heatwave has gone and the weather is changing back to it's usual drizzly English self.
So I guess I'll just have to keep my tiny toned arse sitting on the sofa for another night till my stripper flu subsides, and if I miss the club, I'll just recreate last night with some Snoop Dogg tunage...
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