What not to do in Tucson: Taking Mom to the Bunny Ranch

By Gabe Joselow
Arizona Daily Wildcat
Thursday, February 26, 2004

In the past few weeks, WNTDIT has really been taking some cheap shots at other people and having fun at their expense; well, this week I got mine. My parents were coming into town to visit me, and in between taking them to Mount Lemmon and the Center for Creative Photography I decided to do something a little bit more colorful, and proposed that we go to the Bunny Ranch - the all-nude, 18-and-over strip club on Speedway and Alvernon. I asked a little sheepishly and I never thought she would go for it, but my mother was totally down.

Not only did my mother want to go to the strip club, she wouldn't stop talking about it all day. She kept asking me, "When are we going to the Bunny Farm?" It's Ranch, Mom. The Bunny Ranch is the name of the strip club that we are going to together.

It was a Saturday night and we got to the club around 10. We also took along my friends Ted and Julia as witnesses. At the door, some moron with a cheap suit actually carded my 61-year-old stepfather. There was a bit of an argument when the guy made a quip about World War I: It turned out he meant World War II but just didn't know there was a difference. My stepfather, in stepfatherly fashion, gladly educated this ignorant fellow, and paid the cover charge for all of us, which is the biggest advantage to taking your parents to the strip club.

Once inside, my mother counted out some singles for me, something I remember her doing when I was 8 and wanted to play skee-ball. The more that childhood memories like this came back, the more I felt the complex web of my subconscious collapsing, while a little voice inside of me just screamed, "What the fuck?" over and over. A therapist will have a ball with this one day, I'm sure.

My mother and I went up and took a seat by the dance floor. She bought me a $5 Coke. The situation became awkward immediately. All the guys that were sitting there were looking at me, whispering to each other and laughing. But that wasn't so bad. It was worse seeing the looks on the strippers' faces when they saw me with her, because part of going to the strip club is thinking, "Hey, maybe I have a chance with this girl." There is something very unsexy about being there with your mother.

One of the first dancers came out and played around on the pole a little bit. I asked my mom what she thought of her moves, and she thought she was "just OK." I said, "Sure, but she has nice tits, right?" The answer I got: "I think I have higher standards than you, honey." Ouch. It got worse.

I put some bills out in front of me so the dancers would show me a little extra sugar. At the Bunny Ranch, a little extra sugar means "vagina." One of the girls who was wearing some kind of little tunic, as Ted called it, came up and hung her legs over the side of the dance stage onto my lap, and started showing off her wax job, which was thorough. Then she turned her back to me and showed me what I really don't want anyone to show me. Anyhow, I couldn't help but look over at my mother at one point during my little private show. She was looking at me like she just caught me in bed with a team of prostitutes practicing for a blow job contest. Needless to say, I wasn't going to be able to enjoy this with her watching.

I figured if my mother was going to be so judgmental, she might as well try to pick out the right girl for me. I was a little disappointed with her choice. The girl had a nice body, but her moves weren't really that impressive. I asked why she chose this particular girl and my mother said, "She seemed really in to you." I was going to leave it at that, but she persisted. "Don't you want a lap dance with her?" OK, stop. I could handle the dancers, and I could handle the hardcore porn on the TV, but there was no way I was going to let my mother buy me a lap dance.

That's when my stepfather and she switched places. He sat down and Ted secretly slid a few bills in front of him. He got his special treatment, turned to me and asked, "Do they fuck?"

What was that?

"You would think that if they do that for a dollar, they would probably do more, " he continued. I was intrigued by this question too, but didn't have an answer for him.

My parents eventually left the club, leaving me emotionally scarred and unable to ever have a healthy relationship. But, for what it's worth, my mother let me know she had a wonderful time at the Bunny Patch.