Now here's a real enticing want-ad, found under the vague heading of "Professional"

BORED PROFESSIONALS & SKILLED WORKERS. Ever consider joining an ecovillage with spiritual emphasis & helping to change the world?

Since when is joining a cult considered a career change?

 
I know that I am probably going to hell for that last post, but I figure I am headed there anyway. At this point, I'm just trying to get a good seat at the bar.

 
You know who scares me? the people on the Atkin's Diet. Actually, that's not fair. It's only those who have crossed the fine line from dieters to cult members that really bother me. They are like the Jehova's Witnesses of diets.

They come into the coffee shop and will always insist, not merely ask, that their coffee be made with half and half or whipping cream and that no bread come with their sandwich. These are not unreasonable requests, by any means though. It's when we run out of half and half or accidentally, god forbid, make their sandwich with bread, that things become difficult. These seemingly normal people become spreaders of the Atkins gospel. They have to inform you that they are on the Atkins diet, why they're on it and how it has helped them. Then comes the invite. "You really should try it," they say.

Yes, I know that you are losing weight on it, and that everyone from Matthew Perry to Minnie Driver to Catherine Zeta-Jones to Julia Roberts have had success on it. Congratu--fuckin--lations to them. I haven't joined the Church of Scientology, so what makes anyone think celebrities and some random stranger are going to make me choose a diet that I have to adopt for life?

I know another great way to lose a lot of weight fast, take some barbituates and drink kool-aid.

Note: I think that there may be some merit in exploring a link between Scientology and the Atkins diet. It's too perfect of a fit. Maybe Dr. Atkins was some kind of L. Ron Hubbard disciple. I think it's worth looking into.

 
Earlier this evening, I went out briefly to celebrate surviving the 18 days straight I just worked. I step in the bar only to find it dimly lit, music churning in the background and hearing grunting, panting and barking. No I didn't go to Rawhide or the Phoenix, I went to the Bridge Lounge. It's a rather quiet bar down Magazine Street. Tonight, though, was dog night.

As soon as I walked in the door, I had two dogs "wrestling" practically on top of me. It soon became clear that they were not playing, but rather looking to get some. One dog, began performing fellatio on the other. He apparently liked it because he lifted his leg to give the other dog better access. And that was before I had walked more than five feet into the bar. Tonight I managed to witness puppy blowjubs, anal sex and even some watersports. It was a giant puppy orgy tonight at the Bridge Lounge. If your dog ever has a hankering for some doggy lovin', feel free to take it to the Bridge Lounge on Tuesday nights. It's like Rawhide, but without the one drink minimum or cover.

 
I love our Sysco rep, in a charater study sort of way. She sounds like a constipated Linda Richman and looks like Harvey Fierstein in drag if Hellen Keller picked out his clothes.

 
Last night was the end of an era, so to speak. Yesterday was the last night of the Shim Sham. I have spent many a night here, and have many fond memories of it. It was only appropriate that their last night be "1984", their most popular night, and the one that first attracted me there.

The Shim Sham went out the only way it could. With block-long lines to get in and a club filled to capacity (and then some), it went down in a blaze of glory. Even though beer became scarce and the air-conditioning stopped working, no-one seemed to mind. We celebrated death in the cliched New Orleans way, with a celebration. There was no mourning and sadness until the doors were permanently closed. Prior to that, it was a party that no one should have missed. Sweaty bodies, in various states of undress, packed the dance floor. People were buying water just to have something to pour over their heads and cool off. The floors were slick with spilled drinks and sweat and it was virtually impossible to move from where you were standing. In some way, that only fed the energy of those there, not dampen it, as it would have in any other situation.

So the Shim Sham is no more. Which begs the question of what to do now that it's gone. Sure the theme nights have been farmed out to various other clubs, but it can never be the same. And maybe that's for the best.