And the moral of the story is...

Morals. God love 'em, but I have few. Mostly they centre around supporting other peoples rights and freedoms (gay marriage, abortion, freedom of religion, freedom of speech) so I keep very few for my own everyday behaviour. Or should that be that I lack shame, rather than morals? Yes, that sounds better...I am shameless.

Cutting right to the chase, I took lapdancing lessons this weekend. Good, wholesome, butt-slapping, leg splaying fun. My bridesmaid, L, introduced me to the class, but we had no idea what we were in for. Yes, I know lap-dancing usually involves a seated person, and yes, I know that you are meant to gyrate on top of them...I just didn't realize we'd have to practice on each other.

Sidenote: If you listen very carefully, you can hear male blog readers all over the country running off to get the hand cream.

Well, this experience has taught me, without a shadow of a doubt, what way my door swings. And it's not like one of those galley doors, but like a church door. Firm and unyielding to being pushed the other way. I swing one way only. Only having someone else's (clothed) breasts rubbed in the genital area can prove that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

So, after the splits, the head flips and the move I like to call "the Zeta Jones", I am fully equipped to tackle MF. Bring it on!