I couldn't actually find a website for a business that does this, although there were a handful of Craigslist ads and a movie that changed my life when I was 12 called Private Lessons. It's about a 15-year-old kid who bangs his tutor and there's some kind of blackmail subplot and she fakes her own death, which seems cruel, but the point was, at the time, I was all "Yes!" because she was like 30. You can get tutored by a 30-year-old who will have sex with you when you're a teenager? No one had ever told me that before. In retrospect, we can all appreciate the bizarre way pedophilia was a comedic plot device in the 1980s, but at the time I saw it, I felt it was an exceptional idea and I couldn't wait to get to that point in my own life.
As it happens, the only tutor my parents were likely to ever be able to afford would have been a dude who went by a nickname like Boxcar Huey, or perhaps Perineal Cyst Bobby, so I just got stuck with what public school could offer and the sexiest teacher I ever had was my seventh grade math teacher, who had misshaped boobs and one gray tooth. I didn't say she was sexy -- just the sexiest.
I guess the point of this is that teaching with nudity still seems like a good idea to me. I'd like to learn Spanish someday.
Until I was about 14, my mom cut my hair, so people always assumed that I sleepwalked and played with razors or was constantly having brain surgery. After that I managed to convince the family that I needed a barber like a proper man. The very first time I went to the barber, an Italian gentleman of about 130 years, he cut my hair in such a way that my head couldn't have looked more like a circumcised penis if it spooged every time I washed my face. After that I had my hair cut at a salon by a lady in her 40s who used to tell me about how her son enjoyed playing soccer and how much she liked the show The Wonder Years, those being the only topics she apparently felt I could relate to. So basically I've never enjoyed a haircut in my life.
Despite having never had a good haircut, I can now let you know that there is a topless hair salon in Australia called Hot Cuts where ladies with no shirts on will cut your hair or wash it and then rub you head for a half hour straight. I hope they're well trained, but probably no one cares, and I'm willing to admit that I'd accept inane Wonder Years conversations even today if there were boobs involved.
Ladies, don't feel left out, because Hot Cuts caters to you, too, and maybe when you get your hair washed it could end in some kind of soapy cat fight.
When it comes to motels, you generally have some pretty limited variety. There's the Bates Motel, where you go to get murdered; there's cheap motels, where you go to get chlamydia; there's roach motels, where you get both; and, somewhere out there, there's a nude motel.
If this idea were a hotel, it would be a hell of a lot classier, and I didn't even both to research that idea -- I'm pretty sure there's a number of nudist resorts and such around the world. But the fact that a motel is basically the last stop on the highway before driving off a pier made this one seem kind of special.
The idea to turn the Fawlty Towers Motel in Florida into a nudist motel was the result of declining business, because the one thing that will make you feel more comfortable at a nudist hotel is if it's a little run down. Why sit your nude heiney on well-cleaned upholstery when maybe you can sit on a chair that's splattered in either gravy or blood? Maybe it's both!
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Some people might argue that religion isn't a business, and to that I will take a sip from this snifter of port and chuckle most heartily while Lord Shaftsbury and I prepare for a round of croquet between our manservants Nigel and Eustace. I have a straw penny on Eustace breaking into tears as soon as Nigel runs a hoop.
Jocularity aside, the Whitetail Chapel in Ivor, Virginia, consists of a congregation full of totally nude nudes worshiping the lord in all their pale glory. As the pastor says, Jesus was born naked, was crucified naked, and rose from his tomb naked, so why the heck shouldn't they all be naked, too? In fairness, no one asked Jesus what he wanted to wear during most of those events as far as I know, but that may just be nitpicking on my part.
The average high temperature in that part of Virginia in July is about 90 degrees, so we can only hope the church has some AC to prevent the pews from living up to their name when it gets really balmy out.