Generally Discontent

Sunday night and I'm watching The Howling II: My Sister Is A Werewolf. I remember this one from back in the day when I was all into gory special effects, and Tom Savini was my god. I particularly remember this one because Sybil Danning totally tore her top open and let her boobs bounce out, and I do believe they showed that one shot about fifteen times during the end credits. Good stuff. And I think I just saw Jimmy Smits, but I can't check that out until I have an internet connection. Fucking Jimmy Smits.

So tonight I went out with my brothers, their friend Phil and these two Italian guys, Guy and...Jean Claude? Um. Well, Guy is big. One might say he is fucking immense. He was like three-and-a-half Me's. Guy has won awards for bodybuilding and powerlifting. But beyond that, he was a nice guy and kept us entertained during dinner. Dinner, incidentally, lasted about umm...five hours? Maybe three, but it was a big dinner. About five or six appetizers, then an entrée, then shots, then coffee, then two big plates of desserts prepared by our waitress who - we found out during post-dinner conversation - couldn't drive anymore because she'd had a brain tumor removed. In fact, they'd had to peel her face off to do it. I'm sure glad she waited until we had finished eating to tell us that.

So, dinner was fantastic. We were at a small Italian place in Swampscott, barely more than a small house with a dining area, and the chef clearly put his all into the food he made. Oh wait, I think Sybil Danning's about to show her boobs...hm. Nope. Damn! Wow, there's some bad acting in this. Is that really Jimmy Smits? I know that's Christopher Lee, but he's needed the money for about fifty years now. Hopefully his roles in the Lord of the Rings and Star Wars movies will keep him in the black for the rest of his life.

Anyway, after dinner we dropped the Italians off and then headed for the Squire, one of the few local strip clubs, and pretty much the worst of the lot. It's not that the women are trashy like at the Cabaret {well, okay, they are); it's the clientele. I've only been to this place a few times, and whereas in the past it was mostly filled with Vinnie Italian Iroc-Z Men (as it is supposedly owned by The Mob), tonight it was filled with even scummier people. Lots of scrawny white guys in mismatched Nike jumpsuits and sporting headgear that came from apparently whatever was lying on the floor when they were on the way out the door. Seriously, it's like one of them would look at a soiled napkin in the trash and think, "Oh! That would simply look smashing if it were on my head!" I don't know what the fuck these guys' various problems were.

I guessed they were gangsta wannabe dope dealers or something. One of them would periodically walk two feet from their place at the bar to shower one of the strippers in singles. And I mean that literally - he just threw a bunch of ones at the girl. Pretty classy. Pretty stupid. But hey, that's how these niggas roll, I guess. Idiots.

The strip club lasted two beers, and we left. Went home, and here I am now, sitting on my ass, watching The Hidden. Sybil Danning never did show her boobs, so that's disappointing. But I haven't seen this other movie in a long time, so I'll do that. I'm heading back to CT tomorrow, after an early lunch with Carly. Then it's back to busville, and hopefully the bus will be empty, I dunno. I've realized that I don't feel that my journey has really started yet, but I guess that's because I've been so close to home. At the end of this week, I'm off to Maryland and will be outside the protective sphere of New England. For how long, I'm not entirely certain; if my friend needs me to come back, I come back - we're going to find out the results of his biopsy on Tuesday, I think. Bah. I'm gonna eat some pudding and watch teevee now. Bye!