336 Days - Thanks For Helping Me With My Midlife Crisis, Groupon!

Allllllllrighty, kids! Let’s get this shit STARTED. Let’s talk about something fun! Something hot! Let’s talk about… coupons! Wait… ¿que? Holy hell. I did it. I finally sound like my father (insert Charles In Charge-esque dream sequence flashback effects and theme music here).

It’s early Sunday morning and there are newspapers spread all over the ugly pink colored carpeting. He’s there on the floor as he always is, box cutter in hand, T.V. tray in lap, making Swiss cheese out of the Philadelphia Enquirer. Slicing, cutting, searching, clipping. Ten cents here. Twenty-five cents there. Double coupons on this thing, on a Tuesday, between 3 and 6 pm, in the month of May. He’s there, beating the system in his mind, only to spend what was saved on another car he can show off, or another handgun he’ll use to threaten the neighbors’ kids, or another bottle of Calvert whiskey he’ll eventually piss away while I get made fun of for wearing bobos and borrowing prom gowns from my relatives and friends. Actually, screw it. Let’s end this dream sequence. It was more of a nightmare then anyway, so queue closing Charles In Charge-esque flashback effects and theme music. Happy times are here again.

Y’all know what Groupon is, right? Come on, now. You get the emails. You want laser hair removal? Teeth whitening? Tummy tuck? Mani/Pedi/Faci combo while eating strawberry ice cream off the nipple of a Venezuelan yard boy? Yeah, man. Groupon is the money-conscious-but-somewhat-vain-aging-lady’s wet dream. And to be honest, since the thought of coupons always took me back to a miserable part of my childhood, I rarely ever opened those Groupon emails. That was until last week, when I logged into my once-a-month Gmail account that is only used for crap like this and read a subject line that stated clearly “Four Pole-Dancing Classes for 27.00.” Well played, Groupon. I’ll bite. I’ll play your game. You’ve got my attention. Now let’s see if you can deliver.

1.       Four classes - my choice between Pole Dancing, Belly Dancing, Lap Dancing and Striptease?

2.       Saturday classes available?

3.       At a location that is within two miles of my house?

4.       Register online?

Crafty, Groupon. Crafty. You’re pulling me in, just like the mob. I have to admit it. They say it’s a great ab workout. They say it does wonders for your butt. They say that when you tell the man in your life that you’re taking pole-dancing lessons he shows up after your first class with a bottle of cheap champagne and a fur (haven’t had the first class yet but I’ll tell you afterward if this one is true or not). They say you’ll be the envy of all of your ex-stripper friends (pssst… Chartreuse… call me.) Yeah, Groupon. Yeah. I think you got me, bitch. I think you check-mated me like a character in a Gabriel García Márquez novel. And so, it began.

In these upcoming weeks I will be experiencing the best of what Groupon has to offer my middle-aged-reaching rear end in the form of Pole Dancing, Boudoir Photo Shoots, Rock Climbing and To Be Continueds. And it’s not stopping there because I intend to document each experience right here on this very blog. Gasp, you say? Did I hear a gasp? Oh, just a little heartburn, was it? Sorry, yeah. Been there. Thought it was a gasp. Hey, Groupon has a 75% off deal going on right now for an endoscopy if you’re interested. I was going to get the colonoscopy one but, you know, the time ran out before I had the chance. I know, bummer, right? With all of this Fifty Shades of Grey hype I was kind of looking forward to something going up….

Uh… never mind. (Awkward.)

So yeah, look for the post on this blog after my first pole-dancing class on May 26^th. I’ve been told I need knee pads for it. Oh, wait, maybe that was for the… or, wait, maybe that was a request by… You know what, I’ll wear long pants instead.