However, as great as that is and as much as I love his cause and love him for having it, it’s just not funny enough. I mean, really, how can I get a good laugh out of Equal Rights for Everyone when he’s talking about the homeless guy on the corner, or the slang-slinging African American, or the Hispanic that has seven kids and can barely speak English? That’s just not good fun.

But this is.

For his bachelor party, my Husband’s best friend and a guy I’ve known since highschool, got Jon plastered. I mean PLASTERED. Not only that, but I’d given the okay for Jon to smoke up that night, because, hell, he only gets one bachelor party. So, Jon comes home and I’m a little tipsy myself, having had my bachelorette party the same night (thank you so much for a wonderful, gay-themed night Sunlion, Puppy, and Love343).

The first thing I notice is that he's stumbling up the stairs. Literally. He ran into the wall half way up and giggled madly for a minute before continuing. I sat up just before he entered the room, realizing that he was probably going to need help and asked, "Are you okay, sweetie?" To which I received this as answer: "Shhhhhhhhh" followed by more mad giggling and him stumbling across the room to try and take off his clothes because, once he realized that I was awake, he informed me, "I need a shower. I’m so dirty."

At this point, I’ve realized that, as tired as I am, there is no way he is going to be able to take a shower by himself. This was made even more clear as I watched him trying to take his pants off both legs at the same time. I got up and went past him, picking up the trash cash from the bathroom and took it into the bedroom to put next to his bed. Seeing me do this, he became agitated, asking, "What are you doing?" in that special tone reserved for when he does not approve.

"I’m putting a trash can next to your bed."

This was followed by a long pause and a very subdued, almost happy, "That’s probably a good idea," and more thunking, as he tried to lean his elbow against the wall, to take his shoes off, which he had realized were hindering the removal off his pants.

Finally naked, he stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower (before he closed the curtain). Now, at this point, I’m still half asleep and not entirely sure where all this is going, until I hear a very loud thunk and a "shit" as he slips and nearly falls in the tub. Giving a very resigned sigh, I get undressed and get in the shower with him to prevent him from cracking his head open, because, as good of a laugh as that would be, I just didn’t fancy the idea of him having stitches for the wedding.

Here’s where it gets good.

He starts talking about his bachelor party and by the time I get my head around what he's saying, it’s going something like this, "Her pussy was like this far from my face and I was looking her in the eyes and you could tell it meant something to her. Because... because strippers are people. They're not just objects. Those men treat them like meat and they're not. They're human. They have feelings too."

My first instinct was to be incredibly jealous that he had pussy that close to his face, because, seriously, it’s been a while, but then I realized that he was going between almost crying and laughing and that was just... well, I mean, come on, he’s crying over the humanity of strippers? How the hell am I supposed to keep a straight face?

But he wasn’t done yet, oh no. "And James got me a lapdance with the prettiest girl there, but I couldn’t get it up and I was trying to apologize and really look; at her, but her pussy was like, right there and I ended up laughing, because I seriously couldn’t get it up and I was trying to tell her that it wasn’t her and I told her about you and I just felt so bad."

And, okay, he earned some point back for not being able to get it up for another woman (although that probably had more to do with the joint and the liquid cocaine he’d been downing the last few hours).

Once we’d gotten him cleaned, I didn’t even bother putting clothes on him. We laid down and he just kept going, for like twenty minutes about how degraded the strippers must feel and how people need to treat them like people and blah, blah, blah and laughing and half crying until he finally mumbled off into snores and I just had to lay there laughing for half an hour before I could finally get to sleep myself.

So, that having been shared, I have decided that is his cause:

Bringing Humanity to Strippers.

Because they’re people too.