No One Expects the Stripper Pole in the Garage
"Hey, Hon, do you know why we have a stripper pole and stage in the garage?"
Why, no. No, I do not.
This is not how we thought our holiday season was going to start, but it does feel ridiculously appropriate in a year that felt about a surreal as a Dali masterpiece.
If you think I'm exaggerating, I swear to you that I am not. Here's me with the actual brochure of what fell out of the insanely heavy box when we attempted to move it out of the garage:
Now, all of this inspires so many questions. SO. MANY. First of all, my husband's nonchalant attitude about finding this in our garage and just assuming that I would probably know a wacky backstory about it is delightful. I mean, after eighteen years of marriage, did he think that maybe I had a secret hobby that I'd just never mentioned?
So, I asked him that exact question and he came back to me with, "Well, no, but you have a lot of, ... um, ... interesting ... friends and I thought that maybe one of them asked you to store it our garage for safekeeping or something."
So here's where I am:
How long has this thing been there?
We moved in almost nine years ago.
OMG. It's been there for nine years.
Unless someone sneaked it in there under the cover of night, escaping the wrath of their own family.
That would be an amazing story.
I wonder if they're available to help with remote learning.
Highly doubtful. On both counts.
What does it say about us that we didn't find it before now?
Are we that disorganized?
OMG. We are. We need help.
Where DID it come from?
Did this belong to the previous owner?
If so, what the hell, Karen?!
I mean, people did say that her parties were legendary.
Does she want it back?
This thing weighs a damned near metric ton.
How much would it be to ship it to her in Australia?
Too much to ship.
What do we do with it?
How do we move it out of our garage?
Do we want to move it out of the garage?
J.Lo looked great at the Super Bowl last year.
Home workout equipment is on backorder forever.
Pandemics are the worst.
Maybe we should set it up.
I could use some core work.
I would injury myself so, so badly.
Maybe my husband should try it.
I would never stop laughing.
That could be our holiday card!
Should we try to sell it on eBay or something?
What kind of Internet ads am I going to get if I list it?
I get too much spam as it is.
Would the garbage people haul it away? I mean, it's REALLY heavy.
Maybe we should set it up and put it on the curb so someone else can haul it away who wants it.
Would we help them load it into their car?
Would that be weird?
It's awfully cold to be setting this thing up.
And then we'd have to take it apart again to get in their car.
Why would they include 200 brochures with this thing?
OMG. It says it's perfect for fraternity houses.
How long does chlamydia survive on a surface?
Chlamydia is not a flower.*
How would we even disinfect this thing?
"Starting at $329!" Nine years ago?! This thing was EXPENSIVE!!!
"Easily fits in the corner of any room ..."
We have different ideas of acceptable home décor.
What if we set it up and no one takes it?
OMG. The neighborhood kids would probably start climbing on it.
Or worse: doing shows.
And my youngest daughter doesn't need any encouragement.
The neighbors would never speak to us again.
Unless they have amazing senses of humor.
Which they do.
No, that's not going to work.
Back to square one.
Where's the nearest fraternity house?
So, if you or your loved ones are in the market for such an item, please reach out. No judgment from the people who housed it for nine years without knowing that they even had it.
Love, Allison & Co.
P.S. Please enjoy the look of weary exhaustion of the woman in the bottom-left corner of the brochure. It's like she's saying, "I just can't anymore." We are all that woman. You're welcome.
* Many thanks to Dr. Green at Vanderbilt Student Health Services Orientation ca. 1996 for this line that will forever be burned in my brain.