Thanks to the handiwork of Team Bob, O'Shea McKay and myself, your chances of seeing nudity for free have just increased!  One night, after a rousing game of Triviology at The Slammer, we all settled down to play Dare Jenga.  If you haven't had the pleasure, let me 'splain . . . it's just like regular Jenga, except that each brick you pull off the tower describes a dark deed that must be perpetrated by the grabber.  I have no idea if this is an officially marketed game, as the one that we've always played at The Slammer is hand-written.  I prefer to think of it as a game for the people, and BY the people! 

Anyway, our need for prescribed debauchery was forestalled by our inability to locate the beloved game.  Did someone steal it for selfish home use?  Perhaps dismantled it and hid the bricks here and there about town to give unsuspecting strangers naughty little surprises?  Or maybe Bruce Sussman burned it for fuel during the "blizzard" of '07?  I know not.  But rather than mourning the loss of the old girl, we got busy making a new one, as there was a "virgin" Jenga game in the bar.  Careful to balance the "grab crotch on left" commands with "grab boob on rights," we Sharpied those blank wooden bricks until all were sullied with sinful instructions.  The logical next step was to take her for a test drive - and so we did! 

There probably aren't that many bars in Portland whose regulars would remain non-plussed as a fellow patron streaked the place back and forth, but apparently, The Slammer is one.  Here's what did warrant a reaction from a drinker at the bar, though . . . his girlfriend stumbled over to our table, and pulled a block.  With no introductions or explanations, this fortunately attractive stranger plopped down on my lap, and gave me the most sensual kiss (and the only "real" kiss) I have ever received from a female.  After a minute or so, I figured she'd done her time, and so I started to shut the make-out down, but she cried out, "Get that mouth OPEN!" . . . and who am I to resist?  I mean, I'm a breeder and everything, but who doesn't like being kissed by a pretty girl?  I gotta say, I'm not a big fan of the taste of lipstick, though.  Anyway, her fella very quietly walked over to our table, whispered in her ear, then calmly escorted her back to their seats.  Au revoir, polka-dot dress girl . . . we'll always have Dare Jenga!

We made sure to throw some love to the staff, as well.  If people are gonna be smooching each other in her presence, its only fair that Lizzy, the owner, gets a little action, too.  And although we didn't put a "kiss the bartender" block in there, we wanted to add a little something for Anna, especially since she's not a fan of the "Go weep at the bar" block (it's happened too many times for realsies during her shifts).  When O'Shay McKay pulled the tip block, she was all too happy to stick a dollar in her butt crack and present it forth to our lovely bartender, to which Anna replied, "Do I really have to dig it out of your butt?!" 

Yes, Anna.  You really do have to dig it out of our butts.  The Dare Jenga . . . she is a bitch-goddess.