some things never change...

...after a three year absence, poked both heads back in...big one leading, little one apprehensive and recessed...it's possible you'll spring wood in here if you're 21, half blind and half crocked, with the taste and libido of a POW just released from five years solitary in the dark...THAT guy might stiffen up to the super long term asian resident who could pass for bert lahr (the lion in WOZ) with a set dangling near her navel...or the admittedly better than average bod that sounded like an over-ripe baritone foghorn the minute she opened her pie hole...or the other dancers and a half who were so listless, lifeless, unremarkable and unwatchable, that you're torn between leaving or gulping the half bottle of guinness in front of you...to run, yet again...from this god forsaken asylum of loners, losers, half wits and lost souls (on both sides of the stage), swearing to never return, promising the little head ANYTHING if he'll just allow you to stay the fuck away...three more years...time enough to forget...and hope again...because i can't wait to go back...