Monday, Mar. 15, 2004 - 2:43 a.m.
Cost of the War in Iraq
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Fetish Cafe up in Flames
Second entry of tonight... first is here: Neighbors pounding.
Before going on about last night, which was the closing night at the Fetish Cafe, I thought I'd post some of the very few pics I can actually post from the week before. Damn anyways that weird permissions thing! I got LOTS of great shots but this is what you get...
That was last week at the Fetish Café and this Saturday was the closing night. Very very sad. Fortunately I just hugged the girl crying at the counter and didnt end up in tears myself. The place was crammed with wellwishers. We are all rather homeless now. The Fetish Cafe was a quietish hangout place, with sofas and tables and relaxed standing space at the bar, with regulars who hung out and chatted. Newbies would be welcomed and introduced. You could get comfortable with your level of bdsm or fetish over a period of time...everything from black jeans and tshirt to extreme fetish wear was encouraged. There was play space in the basement, which was avidly used since the recent renovations. Indeed it is a sad loss to the fetish community here in Montreal.
There isn't really an alternative. There are some big dance nights but they are one-off events with loud music, smoke machines etc. Not some place to make friends and hang out. There apparently is another space that is recently opened, a sort of Victorian house on three floors with some hangout space and some play space, but it is $15 to get in, and way out in the East end. There is no subway close, and to me, it would be more than a half hour on bicycle (vs the Fetish Cafe which is 5 mins away)... it is even farther for those who are located centrally or in the west end. Sigh.
Last night I wore my "lady Godiva" hair, my black recycled rubber corset, my white cotton lace-trimmed bloomers with grey and black striped kneesocks, and my new flamenco shoes (which I changed for my little sort of army boots near the end of the night), together with my long black leather gloves. Rather femmey but offbeat at the same time. yeah.
Where am I gonna wear getups like that?? I had a great night, being a social butterfly, chatting with people, inviting them to my comic book launch, getting names and numbers, taking photos of everyone, and dancing.
Frenchguy didnt recognize me with the hair, but he just thought it was funny when he clicked in, unlike Mr. Hair (who didnt show up again). Tom of Vermont was there, which was nice. He sent me an email saying he was going to be there... it ws the first time I heard from him since going dancing with him. He never responded to my "thankyou for the nice time" email I sent. He says he didnt want to "crowd" me. I don't see how pushing "reply" and writing "you're welcome" is anything beyond polite. He was weirdly self-effacing last night too. Anytime I was chatting with him, or dancing, and someone else came up to say hi, or dance up against my butt for two seconds, when I turned back to him he had vanished. I asked him later what the disappearing act was, and he said "oh, if you don't introduce me, I assume you have decided to hang with them not me. ???!!! Weird I tell ya. On the dance floor or in a crowded bar where I knew like half the people at least by view, it was happening all the time. I wasnt going to introduce four people per song who came onto the dance floor! Weird. I have decided he really is NOT a good match for me other than both enjoying doing tai chi moves on the dance floor. Byebye Tom of Vermont.
Anyways, I DID have a good night. Afterwards I went out for something to eat with some of the same people as last week... rockergirl, coatcheckgirl and her boy (who is very nice AND cute... and they're like 15 years younger than me), and drunkboy (he hasnt appeared before).
It might have been great except that once again the poutine was cold. Cold poutine is just not so nice. Think frenchfries. Should be hot right? Add cheddar cheese curds straight from the fridge. Cold. Add chicken pieces straight from the fridge. Cold. Add lukewarm brown sauce. Congeals on the now cold fries and the cold cheese and chicken. Lovely.
I asked the waiter to put it in the microwave for a minute or two. He took it away. Drunkboy got HIS poutine. He says to the waiter... but it's only lukewarm. I said, no, look, it's actually cold, and what was I thinking?? Put my hand flat on the middle of the food. Yes cold. But then drunkboy is like WHAAA YOU PUT YOUR HAND ON MY POUTINE!!! and the waiter is like "oh sorry sir, I will replace it RIGHT AWAY". And came back with hot poutine in which the frenchfries were hot, and the cheese was actually melting like it is supposed to do when confronted with hot fries and covered in hot sauce.
Then he comes back with my poutine. Did you know that you can put frenchfries in the microwave and they don't go soggy, and cheese in the microwave and it doesnt melt even a little? No?? Neither did I. Why don't I get warm food? who knows. I ate cold poutine. Or at least the cheese. MMM, with gelatinous congealed canned "brown sauce"... yeah it is called "brown sauce"... it is made from boiling down "Mr. Brown" from the Dr. Seuss book "Hop on Pop". That was a secret, but now you know. Brown sauce for poutine.
Well, that was the end of my night. I MIGHT have some photos of myself this time, cuz since the landscape photo fiasco of last week, I requested photos of my WHOLE self this time. hehe.
Well, this entry had more to it (but no pics) last night before Diaryland ate it. I hope you like it anyways. Tah!
Hey, look at my Sunday horoscope... watch where I put my hands! I think it applies since the restaurant incident was 5am, which is definitely Sunday.
Here is my horoscope for Sunday, March 14:And here is my Saturday horoscope too:
Here is my horoscope for Saturday, March 13:Hehe, yes, the party of my choice! And I guess this was warning me about that cold poutine! hehe.
Well, that's it! If you actually go to ALL the links I put in this entry should take you about an hour to read. Remember to read the other entry tonight (ie back one).
I'm gonna pack a hookah now. That sounds nice. Oh yeah, and redraw the groping kid. hehe.
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Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
*inspired by Chaosdaily