Music » Night Ranger

Sister Stripper

The cop horny for her sibling's lover, and other northern species.

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You can tell you're in a North Kansas City bar by the hairstyles.

On a recent Friday night, we made the trek to the new Tomfooleries in Zona Rosa. We had heard that it was quite the hot spot, and actually, we were excited to explore some virgin bar territory. We were hoping to meet, like, boys there? Especially, like, boys we haven't already made out with? So we headed over with Research Assistant Laura and soon discovered that the use of the term boys was apt; the majority of guys were, like, frattish and 12 years old.

But, oh, the hair. The hair! There was so much boy-band hair in there that we wanted to rush out and buy stock in styling products. Of course, the mullet was present in both male and femullet form, and big hair was also in evidence.

"So. Would you make out with anyone here?" the NR asked Laura.

"Uh, no. That's very easily answered," she said.

The most striking things about Tomfooleries, though -- apart from the fact that it's two stories and has a decidedly more barlike feel than its Plaza counterpart -- was that (a) it was teeming with groups of at least eight people sitting around tables (and all the table tribes knew each other somehow), and (b) we got many bitchy looks from the chicks there. No, not the covert bitch look, at which we ourselves are expert, but the full-on exaggerated lip sneer that's reminiscent of the "Delta Delta Delta, can I help ya, help ya, help ya" chick on Saturday Night Live. Apparently, we were interlopers of some sort. We thought that kind of thing ended after high school, but apparently not. Plus, if anyone should have been giving the bitchish look of death, it should've been us to those skankoids.

That just made our night even more interesting, anthropologically speaking, so after casing the joint, we headed upstairs to a younger crowd -- though one heavy with fembots with stick-straight hair who looked like they had shopped at nearby Forever 21 before going out for the night. We settled in at the bar and ordered a $1.50 Bud Light (thanks to the late-night happy-hour specials from 9 p.m. to close).

Sitting next to us were Tyson, 23, Theresa, 24, and Christian, 23. Because we are evil, we wondered if there was some threesome action going on, but it turned out that Theresa's boyfriend -- who was out of town -- is Tyson's best friend.

"She's cheating on him tonight with us, though," Christian joked. "Want to join? We can make it a foursome."

Christian and Tyson, who knew each other from Park Hill, tried to explain the social dynamics of the Northland.

"They come in groups; they all know each other and they'll all stay in their groups," Christian said about the table hordes. "In the northern suburbs, people stay in cliques, and they're content with that. We're also comfortable with that, but we'll talk to other people."

"Did you hear about that study that said KC was one of the worst cities for dating?" Tyson asked.

"Actually, yeah. I wrote a cover story about that," the NR replied. "Do you find that dating here is that bad?"

"Not really," Christian answered. "Women are always up for free meals. No, actually, everyone is up for a free meal. And the chance to make a new friend -- as long as the person isn't creepy. Why inhibit yourself? Now, if it's Charles Manson, you might be cautious, but why not?"

"So, you know how they say that women shouldn't make the first move because guys like the thrill of the chase?" the NR asked (thinking in particular of He's Just Not That Into You, which has become the bible of every single woman we know -- with good reason). "If some chick approached you and asked you to dinner, would you be cool with it?"

"I'd love being approached by a chick, as long as she looks normal," Christian said. "I'd definitely pay. People are always up for good conversation, which is hard to come by. I'm up for whatever. If she likes me, cool!"

In the meantime, a luv connection of sorts was going on downstairs, and we witnessed the tail end of it. Our attention was caught by "Sunny," 33, who was looking very boobtastic in her low-cut top. It seemed like her compadre, Dan, 31, thought so, too; they were quite touchy-feely, so we had to find out what was going on.

"We just figured out that he used to date my sister!" Sunny said. She was outgoing and boisterous with a raspy voice, and she punctuated her sentences by winking at us periodically. "I've been a cop for ten and a half years, and my dad's a retired cop. My sister's five years younger, and she's a stripper [at Diamond Joe's]. Dan dated her about ten years ago. My dad set them up. So I saw him and was like, 'Damn! Who is that guy with the good-looking blue eyes?' Then Dan came up and said, 'Are you a stripper?' I said, 'No, but my little sister is.'"

(Can we interject what an awesome pickup line that is? It just rocks on so many different levels.)

"Then it all came together," Dan said.

"How long did you date her sister?" we asked.

"Just once," Dan said.

"Until he figured out she's psycho!" Sunny added. Yeah, that would be a deal breaker for us, too, along with hemmed denim shorts on guys and ... well ... boy-band hair. But we soon met one person who didn't have to worry about deal breakers, because he's happily ensconced in a relationship.

Jon, 34, was squeezing by us when he looked at the NR and said with faux astonishment, "Ohmigod, you're the All-American girl!" (referring to Margaret Cho's defunct TV show). He laughed, then said, "I bet you're getting that a lot here." He told us he grew up in Johnson County and moved to North Kansas City because of his partner.

"It's really friendly and nice, and people don't mind that you're gay," Jon said.

"Really?" we asked.

"Well, I'm not going around and grabbing people's cocks. And I'm not going up to Liberty to hang out," he responded. When we took his picture, he did grab a random guy in a John Deere sweatshirt and hat to pose with him. (Justin, who works at John Deere, was very sweet about the whole thing.) "I thought it'd maybe be a whole new angle for your story -- the total redneck and the total faggot."

We were done exploring any sort of angles, though, so we took off toward midtown, our home turf, where no bitchy looks were leveled at us. That's what we like to think, at least.

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