Big Trouble on St. Laurent

Went out with Nikavee and her friend Cee last night and - wow - these girls blow my mind! We met through a mutual friend who insisted that I read her blog because we have a lot in common. This turned out to be an understatement - superficially, at least, we lead parallel lives. Same drink, same smokes, same penchant for drinks and smokes. Cee lives upstairs from Soylent, as it happens also. The gurls turned out to be fabulous, articulate and truckload of fun. We spent hours gleefully discussing the quirks of our mutual friends and bitching about their inadequacies.

Ha ha ha! No we didn't!!! I swear!!!

Actually, there was getting-to-know-you conversation, blogging conversation and many many drinks. We beautified the bar of the "Saturn Chamber" and stayed there until closing. We took turns to sashay across the dance floor and up to the bathrooms to pee. The bathrooms used to be black, covered in graffiti and the doors were sprung shut. You had to push the stall door and squeeze through as if breaking into your little sister's room with her on the other side pushing back. Now, they're beige, functional and completely out of step with the joint.

The ceiling "rains" condensation that I know from eighth grade science is supposed to be pure water. If you're of sound mind, however, you can't help but be grossed out by the thought that the moisture originates from sweat and rank alcohol breath. I'd never been there on a Saturday night and was pleasantly surprised - they played mostly the New Rawk. Its not exactly on high rotation at home but familiar to me as I've been living above ground for the last couple of years. Cee marched right up to the DJ when he played some Eurotrash music ("runaway/run-away/runaway if you want to survive/you've got to break free/uh-uh-oh-oh") and the exchange went something like this:

C: Change the music. It sucks.
DJ: Its a request. Come on -- its funny!
C: No, its not. It just sucks.

Track gets ripped off mid-song in favour of something listenable. I was duly impressed. She's a Leo, you know.

We mused: what is the girl equivalent of a "sausage party" (meaning a joint regrettably full of boys)? A "Y Convention"? If the collective noun of crow is a "murder" and geese come in a "gaggle", the collective noun for women MUST BE a "wiggle" and "giggle" for girls. So then -- a "wiggle party"? A "giggle fest"? EUREKA! A "Beaver Jam"!!! (On a completely different topic, I misheard "Paperjam", works well, no?)

Oh, and speaking of sausage...We were being seriously cruised by some 24 year old boys from out West. Not that that is a bad thing, necessarily. They drank with us toward the end of the night, bummed ciggies and then accompanied us outside. One of them asked if we "girls get it on when you're alone and horny". I told him that it was, in fact, a blind date, so, "no". Guy (Nikavee said his friends call him "Meathead") asked me if I had a broken heart, I said "yes". I asked him how old he was and he asked how old I was. I told him he should not mess with this shit. To his credit, he tried.

These girls had digital cameras so we took a pic with one who whipped out his dick for the photo for no particular reason except for maybe he doesn't know how to hold his liquor. Or perhaps he figures that because it impressed his fraternity brothers, it ought also to work on us. Inspired, we then walk up the street which is now full drunk kids purged from the surrounding bars asking guys if they wanted to whip out their Honorable Member for a photo. No takers!

Thanks B.