Come for the dance. Stay for the perogis.

I had to drop something off for repair in the area, and couldn't help but pull a hard right into the parking lot when I saw the beat down sign and lack of windows. "This is my kind of place," my inside voice said. Now, this was right at the start of a snowstorm and it was maybe 10 degrees outside. I had to piss like a racehorse. If it was 10 outside, the bathroom was -23 F. Seriously, my third leg was trying to retreat into my body to get away from the cold. And some sick SOB put ice in the urinal.

Well, needless to say, I was having a George Costanza moment. (It was the water! It's the cold!) And a little cheery conversation with the barmaid warmed me up. They bring perogis in and they are actually good. And I know homemade perogis. Do it. Eat the perogi.

There was a mix of pretty rough dancers and maybe 3 super hot ones. Like "are they here on a dare? They are too hot for this!" dancers. I saddled up with an old pal (Russian lady) that was more age appropriate for me. Got a nice backrub, had some beers. And Wodka. You need Wodka with perogi. Duh. In any event - I took a shot on one of the stunning younger dancers in the back room. It's kind of like the locker room in highschool with fewer lockers and more shame. I have no idea what the dances cost - but holy cow - it was fun. Like carefree, "mom and dad are out for half hour" fun.