Only in Portland
So last night I finally made it to this place called Casa Diablo. It's a strip club with an all-vegan menu and the dancers are not allowed to wear animal products. As a single vegan male alone in a city with nothing to do (and no restaurants open at 10 p.m.), I had to go.
I get in and notice a heavily-tattooed girl dancing to two dirty old men. Not unlike home, I told myself. But dancer after dancer hit the stage and the tattoo quotient kept rising and the music improved.
Unlike other places at home, there was no lame dance tunes or semi-ironic Motley Crue. One girl even shook her moneymaker to Elvis Costello's "Party Girl" before getting wild to a Cursive song whose name eludes me at the moment.
One of the dancers saw me by my loneself and chatted me up. She told me the old man deejay let the girls play their iPods, which led me to believe the girls at Casa Diablo have the best taste in music of any tittie bar in the country. Or at least of the tittie bars I've been to, which I admit, is not that many.