Who would’ve thought that Pamela Anderson would one day transform into the Old Chick at the Strip Club? You know, the one stripper who doesn’t feature dance because her back can’t take the pole slides anymore. The one who just meanders around the bar smoking cigarettes and asking anybody within earshot "Who wants a dance? Anybody want a dance?" One of your friends will lean in and tell you that she’s the best one to spend $20 on for a lapdance because she’s got something to prove, but looking at her you realize that it would just make you sad to see her grinding up and down on your leg. And it’d be kind of gross too. So instead you turn your attention to one of the younger, prettier girls in the club and do your best to stop thinking about her. But that night when you get home you wonder about the Old Chick at the Strip Club. Where she’s going, what she’s doing, and how much longer she’s going to subject herself to that unforgiving lifestyle. Whoever thought Pamela Anderson would some day get to that point?
Oh. Everybody? Nevermind then.