Self-Portrait as a Pole Dancer

There's this very interesting bar in Wrigleyville with batting cages and dueling pianos on the same floor. Yeah, I don't see the connection either. Anyway, on top of these dueling pianos is a pole next to which many people like to dance. A few months ago, after consuming a few too many 7&7s (about two. I'm a lightweight. I also like to blame all my indiscretions on alcohol), I started to fall asleep in my chair at this bar. However, once I heard the dueling piano players begin the tune "Bohemian Rhapsody," I immediately sprang from my Canadian-whiskey-induced stupor and proceeded to dance on pianos. Everyone else was doing it, I swear.

Anyway, following this evening of pole dancing, Chris decided to tell everyone (including my parents, his parents, his employers, etc.) about my activities. I denied, denied! DENIED! that it ever happened. But alas, my soon-to-be husband captured the event on his camera phone. (Hence, super-low-res photo.)

So there you have my first forway into pole dancing. I'm pretty sure I have a future in this: I hear that sneakers, baggy jeans and green t-shirts are what all the successful pole dancers wear. Get out your dollars, fellas.