Disco Inferno

Ever been clubbing, wake up hungover/coyoted vowing never to repeat the experience, and then do it again the very next week?

So you don your skintight skivvies, add on the eyemakeup and call your galpals. And descend into the inferno.

Ever notice how most warehous-ey clubs are done up to look like hell? Dim or red light, smoke, that infernal thump-thump-thump at about 120bpm that moves your booty. Raised platforms to dance above the teeming masses. Add alcohol and perhaps a bit of something else, cuz sometimes that's what you need to keep moving in this place... Desperation and euphoria coexist side by side.

The men that permeate these places are either hairy and Butabi, beautiful and gay, or really young and just don't give a shit. The women H&M'd out, styled up, and mostly dancing in groups. Midriffs of every variety (ever count the innies vs. the outies?)...

Hookups happen with alarming frequency, after a few rounds and some sweaty moving, because everything looks better in hell....

Well, although my platform dancer days are behind me, every once in a while, I get the urge to get my freak on. Though now it's more Soul Train and less Speedracer. Yes, with my newfound maturity, I've escaped androgyne eurotrash for Avenue C homeboys that reek of Cool Water and call me mommy...

Today's gem: Don't take anything that came from the vetrinarian.

Next week: Thong-tha-tho-tho-thong!

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