Rats and Bats and Tastes Like Chicken for Candy

Well. So much for 'soonest'. Its taken so long (read: i got too busy) that i decided to make this a separate blog, as the first was long enough. In fact i'll probably put up at least two tonight, to break the weekend into semi-manageable chunks. Not how i ~lived~ it of course. But then we can't all be the Fabulous Sascha Peppercorn. In fact, none of you can, because i already am. Heh.

i believe our intrepid heroine was last seen entering Duck Island Friday night. i love the Duck; its grimy and yet artsy, nothing works properly, and some of the crowd really DO lead sordid lives. Plus its not in an obvious location, almost in Tremont but not quite, so that you don't often have to worry about the plague of touristas that regularly infects some place like Edison's.

Friday was the one bartender's last night, so they were having a Sordid Lives party as her going-away. i've only seen the movie once, under rather dubious circumstances involving a drunken pilot and a pan of lasagna (don't ask). Friends of mine, however, are BIG S.L. fans, so i can recite "Why, Dr. Eve, you're not wearing any panties!" with the best of them. And there *was* tuna noodle casserole. Fried chicken. And apple pie. This was a good thing, because while i probably did eat before i'd left for the play, that would've been hours before and i was perhaps just a weeee bit woozy by then.

Ah, i nearly forgot! There were also three girls who came in late and sat side-by-side on one of the couches in front, hoovering up whatever food was left at that point. Gobble gobble gobble. My one friend said they looked like three dogs, their faces in the bowl. i didn't quite see that, but it *was* kind of funny how they were scrunched together, bent over the coffee table stuffing their dear little faces. Not even sure if they knew anyone there. Gotta love the Duck.

The rest of the night was - typical. Tag-team DJs (MC Cornflake, DJ Wednesday, DJ Slade - then also Jack Smiley, whose girlfriend was having a birthday party there, at the same time as the going-away). Clove cigarets. Dancing in the smoky back room. Wednesday played 48 Crash! How can you not love that?? Et cetera. The Duck is rather like a 9-volt battery.. eh, no, let's not make that analogy, shall we? You know its a dive, you know you don't *want* to know what all is in that couch, but you keep going back because..

Which i believe is about how Friday ended. That makes this a short-ish blog post, but then, i can do that sometimes, can't i? Of course i can. Really. Just watch me, watc-