So I watched “Lost in Translation” last night. I dunno…it had moments when I liked it but it just ended up annoying me that this movie could possibly upset “Return of the King” as best picture. Trying to deduce what it was that particulary bugged us about it, my wife and I talked about everything from the lack of direction to the half-baked characters and basically ended up in a split decision. She hated it, I didn’t hate it as much. When we got home I decided to just poke around and read some reviews and inevitably ended up on some message board. I just kept reading these peoples posts go round and round but then I found one that made me smile for it’s combination of bravado and complete ignorance.

“jeez,,,, u have no idea of romance or the concept of the beauty of the human soul…..i hope u r enlightened real soon…in the meantime…stop slagging masterpieces u have no concept of….if u were turned on by charlottes bum, i suggest u get a girlfriend and stop being such a stupid perv who has no idea what good films are about….twat”

The most endearing part of this particular rant is this guy’s rampant use of i-chat symbology to make a point about a well-intentioned movie supposedly catering to a more sophisticated audience…that and he ended it with “twat”.

On a regular Wednesday night I can be found reading books, watching some old flick, maybe even if I’m feeling saucy, I’ll get a round or two at the neighborhood tavern. Never did I expect to find myself at a Burlesque Show sometime after midnight in a city 75 minutes from home.

Ok, so this needs some explanation. Amateur and professional porn surfers alike have probably stumbled at one point across the Suicide Girls. Unfortunately, I never had. It is a site of Goth girls with tattoo’s and/or piercings scantily clad in spikes, velvet, hats of every assortment, or maybe only a finely polished pair of stilettos. Though their name is morose, the address had nothing to do with offing one’s self, but they most certainly were ‘Girls’.

How does a website grow into a traveling Burlesque Show? I don’t have that answer for you. But now, as hopefully I have peaked your interest, I will give you a synopsis of my evening.

The drive passed quickly, if uneventful. Then, at the local venue, I was treated to a stellar prelude by One Billion Dynamometers or something like that. They would have been better off if they just went on stage and said “Imagine D-plan played in a karaoke bar. That’s us.” (props to IDQ for the similitude) This was quickly followed up by what appeared to be Meatloaf and Iggy Pop. Together at last. No one in the crowd was very interested in either of these spectacular auditory entertainers. They wanted the girls. There were people of all shapes and sizes at this show. Some dressed up to resemble Devine from the Pink Flamingos, some just wore their TGIF polo’s, obviously just coming straight from work. The older ‘gentlemen’ attending were cliché: overweight, balding, and sporting jaunty (though creepy) mustaches. They would act like they were just here at the bar and there happened to be young, naked ladies performing.

The Burlesque did not disappoint. This was no everyday trip to the nudy booth. Imagine 40’s jazz and tuxedoes straight out of Moulin Rouge. The opening number “Hey Big Spender” by the ever famous Shirley Bassey, right into “Baby I Got Your Money” by ODB. The splendor included wonderful music and costuming: police outfits, modest mouse, cheerleaders, even baking aprons for a messy rendition of Chef’s “Salty Balls”.

The audience members in the front row looked like they had just been riddled with amusing commentary by Gallagher, as the girls apparently like to make quite a mess when they cook. Chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and other tasty toppings adored the first 10 rows of chubbing meatheads. They were all screaming with delight.

Overall, the show was worth going to. It is not going to change my life, or even encourage me to join their site, but it was a good time. It was never really raunchy or degrading. They never bared it all. The ladies truly looked like they were having a hella good time. Enjoying these shows will probably secure you a seat in the hot place, but it is definitely a less severe circle of Hell than Big Al’s will land you.

Thumbs up to the macabre vixens.

Here is the crossword puzzle alone:

And now, in case you don’t see it, I’ve cropped it a bit:

…Yeah.

Enjoy.

Dear Hand Soap with Cleansing Beads,

Let me start by saying that I believe I have what can be described as a loose understanding of your appeal. I mean, perhaps some people like the feeling of your grainy texture rubbing against their skin, giving them the sensation of deep, no-holds-barred cleansing. I, on the other hand, do not. Call me old fashioned if you will, but I guess you just aren’t soap to me. I could ramble on and on about our problems, but I don’t think it would do either of us any good.

I’m sorry, Hand Soap with Cleansing Beads, It’s over. A future for us is simply not in the cards, and I thought it was time to let you know. Good luck to you.

All my love,
Jerome

Dank would like to wish non-contributing member Moosle a very happy 25th birthday. Why…who knows.