Colleen Smith Reviews Stripparaoke

Ordinarily when two relatively awkward things are combined, they become one extremely awkward thing.  I’m not going to waste my time trying to think of examples to convince you of this, but the equation makes sense: awkard + awkward = double awkward.  Let that logic sink in for a moment, before I completely tear it down with something that defies the seemingly solid formula I just gave you.  Introducing… Stripparaoke.

As much as some people love strippers and/or karaoke, it’s hard to deny that they each have awkward elements to them.  First, strippers.  It’s true they get naked and dance, which is something we all love to do once in a while, but while I prefer to do it in the comfort of my own home and usually alone, strippers do it while old drunk guys yell and throw money at them.  This is awkward.  Beyond the awkwardness of the strippers’ own situation, it’s not hard for other people to feel awkward at strip clubs.  Specifically, me.  Of course I’d love to be one of those fun girls that can hang with the guys and feel just as comfortable at a strip club as anyone else, but so far that has never been the case.  Perhaps because prior to Stripparaoke I had only been to one strip club, where as the designated driver, I soberly chaperoned a birthday party full of blacked-out New Zealand guys and my friend who, out of great concern, spent the entire night yelling, “ARE YOU OKAY? YOU LOOK SOOO AWKWARD RIGHT NOW!”

Then we have karaoke.  Karaoke can be awesome and well done, but rarely does a karaoke bar go a night without someone butchering a song or making themselves and/or the entire audience extremely uncomfortable.  I also speak more or less out of personal experience in this case, excluding my post-Power Hour rendition of Prince’s “Kiss.”  That went extremely well.

Feeling the way I do about both stripping and karaoke, I didn’t know what to think when my friend invited me to Stripparaoke at Devil’s Point in southeast Portland, except that I would probably go because it was at a convenient location, and because I like my friend.  Now I can honestly say I don’t even need good reasons like that to go - Stripparaoke is amazing, and I’d go any day of the week if I could (which I can’t, it’s only on Sundays).

Here’s how Stripparaoke works:  You pick your song and give it to the karaoke-guy, wait a really long time, he calls you up to stage and you sing your song.  While you’re singing there’s a stripper on stage prancing about and taking her clothes off, doing acrobatics around the pole, and occasionally molesting the person singing.  This might sound a little awkward, but it’s not.  At least not to watch - I didn’t get a chance to sing at all this time, so that might change things a little.

It’s always fun to hear your friend or even a stranger sing on stage for about thirty seconds, but then it can start to get boring, or uncomfortable to watch as the novelty of the hilarious song they chose wears off and you realize that they’re a terrible singer.  Luckily, at Stripparaoke, right around this time the girl on stage starts getting naked so you have something else to pay attention to.  If a naked girl dancing on stage makes you nervous, it’s okay because really she’s just there to support the singer, and the fact that she’s getting naked isn’t really important.  The naked girl also makes sure to bring it back to the singer by the end, in case you get tired of watching her fondle the front row observers.  She shows her appreciation for the singer with appropriate amounts of groping and humping, and then the song is over and the whole thing starts again.

I have almost nothing bad to say about Stripparaoke in general, but I do have a couple critiques specific the strippers.  Like how the girls just get recycled all night.  There were four strippers, and each one would dance for about three songs.  Then the next girl comes on, and so on, until  it’s the first girl’s turn again.  But when she gets up again, she’s redressed herself, and then restrips herself.  Why do I want to see her take her clothes off again?  The whole stripping act loses its excitement when you know she’s just going to put her clothes back on right after and do it again like we’ve never seen her naked before.  They should either spend longer stripping in the first place, or get more girls.  My only other complaint is that one of the strippers was wearing fold-down socks with her stripper heels.  I know this is Portland, but I’d like to think we can do better than that.

I don’t know how many people feel like they need an excuse to go to a strip club, but if you’re one of them, Stripparaoke is definitely a good one.  I’m sure Stripparaoke isn’t as innovative and exclusive to Portland as I feel like it is - maybe you’re already a regular at your local Stripparaoke bar - there must be at least one venue with this attraction in your area.  Then again, Portland does have the highest number of strip clubs per capita in the country (a statistic any Portlander will proudly tell you, although I can’t remember ever reading that in a reliable source).  Maybe Portland strip clubs are just so desperate for new kinds of stripping that every once in a while they strike gold with ideas like Stripparaoke.  I personally can’t wait to see what the stripping industry has in store for me next.

This essay is part of a post-exchange with Colleen’s blog Running And Then Blogging About It.  When she’s not watching singing and stripping, she’s probably running.  Or blogging about running.