'I Did It. I Broke The Porn.' And Mons Venus.

Because our faithful readers haven't been reading enough about bachelor parties lately, I have yet another to report on. However, since it's been going on since Thursday night and it's now Sunday afternoon and I'm at work, I will spare you the blow-by-blow and just give you some highlights as I try not to fall asleep at my desk. I'll follow it up with my review of the Mons Venus strip club.

Background: My buddy Buck is getting married in October. His dad owns a house in Tampa quite close to mine. He rolled down with a crew that included Bailey and Fire - who you'll remember were at the last bachelor party I was at, as was Buck - Buck's brother, a college buddy and his pops and soon-to-be father-in-law. They flew in Thursday night.

*Somebody cuts on cable porn Saturday afternoon (I swear it wasn't me.) After a period of silence, Bailey remarks, "What the hell? Did they make this with Powerpoint?" (Picture us watching some poor chick being railed on a couch for - allegedly - $20 by two dorky-looking brothers and then hearing that.) The humor in that was surpassed only a half hour later, when Buck's dad, who had been outside on the back porch, walks in the house with the retired next-door neighbor lady while some assblasting is taking place on the widescreen. That lady may never come visit them again.

*Explaining to my buddy Fire - who had never been to a Japanese restaurant - the intricacies of ordering sushi one night. "Why do we have to write it on the thing? Can't we just tell the waitress? What's the point of having a waitress?" He's a pragmatic one, that Fire.

*Visiting my boy Poppa at the club he manages - the only "urban" (read as: black) club in Tampa - with Bailey, Fire and a fourth guy Bailey knew. I told my boys we had the hookup, but I don't think they quite understood until Poppa literally started grabbing girls and shoving them at us and telling them to show us a good time. That led to us - and I wish I was making this up - sitting side-by-side-by-side in chairs getting dances from two sisters and their cousin. I apparently had the shy sister, because the unshy one, dancing on Fire, reached over and took her top off for her. Throw in the fact that our drinks were nothing but ice and booze, and we were well taken care of. If you like the sistas, you can do no better than Hollywood Nites in the Tampa Bay area. I guarantee you will not be disappointed.

*Hitting Four Green Fields, an authentic Irish pub in downtown Tampa with the crew. (By authentic, I mean it's owned and operated by Irishmen. It's got a thatched roof, for God's sake.) Buck and the rest of the crew are South Side Irish guys, so they dug it well enough, but his soon-to-be father-in-law actually IS Irish; he emigrated here back in 1969. So he definitely got a kick out of it, especially when the bartender on the outdoor deck started playing Gaelic tunes on a flute and singing Irish toasts to the rounds we were buying.

Ah, and the coup de grace: Mons Venus. For those few of you not in the know, there is a strip club in Tampa that is quite literally world-renowned, and is often ranked as the top club in America when people get around to ranking such things. If you don't believe me, Google it.

I hadn't been there since I moved to Tampa, for a couple of reasons. Number one, cover is $20, or, as I interpret that, three drinks. That's crazy, I'm sorry. Number two, they don't serve booze. That means it's full nude and open til 5 am, but I really don't care. No alcohol makes the entire point of hitting a strip club moot, in my mind. Also, the entire place isn't much bigger than a nice two-bedroom apartment. First time I drove by it, I thought, "Wait, that's it?"

Mons claim to fame is having ridiculously hot women walking around naked. And not just a few; they've got a freaking army of them. I can now vouch for that fact. Top to bottom, looking at the entire lineup, there wasn't a chick there who was less than an 8, EASILY. And I'm talking at least two dozen girls, probably closer to 30.

My problem with Mons is that it's set up for one thing and one thing only: spending money on women. There's no booze. There's no TVs. There's hardly no place to sit except at the stage or on one of the couches lining the entire club where lap dances take place. There isn't even a DJ; the girls play songs on a jukebox all night. Hell, the men's bathroom only has two urinals. There is nowhere to go and nothing to do EXCEPT stare at chicks.

I realize for some people that's not a problem. But it hits your wallet like you wouldn't believe. Dances are negotiable, from $20-$30. Generally girls charge $25 - the really smoking-hot feature-type ones (and they know who they are) hit you for $30. The price will go down on volume discount, but that's up to them. Regardless, you can go through $100 in that place the first half hour you're there, easy.

What I DIDN'T know about Mons before going there was that there are only two rules for dances: nothing will be inserted anywhere and you keep your tongue to yourself. After that, it's game f***ing on. You walk in, and there's nothing but writhing naked bodies on couches with hands all over them. It was a Roman orgy. And you couldn't even try to be gentlemanly about it; if you didn't grope, the girl would grab your hands and put them in places where God (or a top-notch plastic surgeon) had blessed them immensely.

Now, I can understand the appeal to visitors. If you come down from Minnesota in November, you haven't seen girls like this ever in your life. Like I said, the sheer consistency in the lineup means you simply can't go wrong. There are no crooked teeth, no stretch marks ... I mean, you can have a pretty good argument about which of the chicks is the least attractive, and there's really no answer. I mean, one of them has to be, but there also has to be a slowest man in the 100-meter dash in the Olympics. Yeah, he's not Usain Bolt, but he's still one of the 10 fastest men in the world, you know?

However, for a guy who lives down here, I wasn't overly impressed. I can find girls that hot at the local Hooters, or at the beach. Difference is, those chicks don't get bucked-nekkid or nibble on my ear while they grind their flawless posteriors all over me. Then again, I'm not much of a dance guy anyway, so I'm a lot less inclined to get excited over that.

Mons also balances the lineup well. There was a girl or three there for pretty much every preference: stereotypical blonde bombshells, redheads, sistas, Latinas, tall, short, thick, thin, flat, well-rounded, suicide girls ... just one big smorgasbord. They're all impeccably groomed and exceedingly friendly and nice. They don't hustle you, i.e., keep hitting on you after you've shot them down for a dance. They're all smiling and having fun. The atmosphere is definitely live.

Like I said, though, you pay for it. Don't go to Mons unless you're willing to drop at least a couple hundred. If you're not gonna spend money, then there's really no point, because you're just going to stand there and stare without getting much of anything, not even a conversation with a pretty girl. Amazingly enough, the ATMs there - there's three - only charge $3 per transaction, which genuinely blew my mind. If you are willing to spend money, though, I daresay you will not find a better lap dance, all things considered, anywhere else in Tampa, and there are probably few places in the U.S. that match it without you coughing up loot for a champagne room.

You ever need a tour guide, let me know. :)