Good Morning! I’m Dana from The Dana Files. Before I begin I must tell you that I don’t have a funny sex story to share today. I know. Many of you are disappointed and others have no idea why I’d start a blog post with this type of confession.

You see, the last time I guest-posted for someone, I revealed something that happened in the bedroom and my husband was not pleased. I suppose it was my own fault for bragging about how funny it was to write something of that nature on someone else’s blog. Ha ha. It still cracks me up.

I’ve decided to share with you all a story from my young, single, drunkity-drunk days — back when I was 19 and carefree. Man. That was like nine years ago.

So anyway. The year was 1998 and I was employed as a bartender at my father’s tavern. My dad had no rules about drinking under age. It was allowed (for me at least) as long as I did not drive a car and did not get arrested. He never actually said these words out loud, he just sort of implied them. If he wanted to live in the same house as my very Catholic mother, he had to at least pretend he was laying down the law.

I remember it was a Friday night in July. My friend Liz was my relief bartender and at the end of my shift I stayed out to hang with her and some of the regular patrons.

We loved to play a variety of music on the jukebox — a mix of Ani DiFranco, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, Green Day, The Eagles and Van Morrison to name a few. It was a new-age hippy thing.

Somewhere around 2 a.m. I got this funny, insane, ridiculous idea to stand on top of the bar and strip. Naked. In my own father’s tavern. In front of customers — persons who knew my dad very well and I’m certain would be eager to tell him what his presumably smart, responsible daughter had done the night before.

I took off my clothing piece by piece (except for my underwear) and danced around a bit. Liz encouraged several customers to stick dollar bills into my panties — except one guy gave me a twenty. I walked away with about $60. (Boy was that a cheap thrill for them!)

It was the most fun I’d had in ages, and the sense of power I experienced was something I never felt before.

The next morning I awoke to the sound of my telephone screaming. I lived in one of the apartments above my father’s tavern and my roommate Rhonda was hollering at me to get up and answer the ringing nuisance.

“Hello…” I said, my throat was dry and my voice cracked.

“Goddammit,” I heard my father’s voice. “What the hell were you doing last night?”

“Dad, nothing. Really. It was nothing..” I said. “I don’t know what you heard…”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Dad interjected. “But I saw the tape from the security cameras!”

Oh shit, I thought. Shit, shit, shit! I forgot about those!

“Oh my god, Dad!” I said. “I’m sorry…”

“I don’t want to hear it. Do you know how awful it is to check the tape and see your daughter topless? And dancing? ON THE BAR?” he yelled.

“I…umm…I’m…sorry,” I sputtered.

“If you ever do that again, you better make sure you turn the goddamn cameras off,” My father lectured. “And make sure you burn this goddamned tape before it finds it’s way to your mother’s hands!”

After I hung up the phone I started to laugh. My father said it was alright to strip, I thought. Okay, maybe he just implied it. (Wouldn’t it have been funny if I became a porn star? Ha. Ha, ha, ha. I can’t stop laughing.)

Needless to say the tape was destroyed and I couldn’t look my father in the eye for weeks. I was mortified. And the customers? They felt it was necessary to give me shit about my strip tease every chance they got.

But even though I still feel terrible for giving my dad half a heart attack, I must admit that night was one of the best I’ve ever had. Strip club here I come!

(You know, when I lose 100 pounds and look like Katherine Heigl.)