Hungry Like The Wolf

Maybe it's the arrival, finally, of warmer weather. Maybe it's the smoking ban. Maybe the clientele have simply disappeared, like Tequila Mockingbird. But Kickass Karaoke at the Bovine Sex Club has been cancelled, and at the Rivoli it's been cut back to every other Sunday, instead of every Sunday, and last night was a slow night.

I hadn't seen my karaoke buddies since there was snow on the ground, and gosh darn it all, I sure missed them. I thought the cutbacks would drive all the regulars to be there early, to get a good table, but I was the first one there, and I sang to the crickets for the first hour. No Lana. No Punky Nerdster. No Operaman, since he's gone back to Calgary.

Then Joey arrived. With his accordion, of course.

Tim, my favourite Canadian Idol non-finalist (one of the judges, it seems, forcibly dragged him off the stage during his audition), practiced for his lead role in the Joe Cocker story, to be produced in 2028.

The Viking showed up, and he'd done something new with his hair. Highlights, or possibly lowlights. I'm sure he's got more hair product in his bathroom than your average three females.

Sparky had just flown home from San Francisco. You know you're obsessed when you start scheduling your business trips around karaoke.

Mo was sitting across the table from me. He was looking very spiffy, and was in grand spirits, having recently started a new job at a major Internet company, where he's in charge of their portal Web site. He leaned toward me, looked into my eyes, and said, "I've been thinking about French Fries."

"You have?" I replied, "Do you often think about French Fries?"

"As a matter of fact, I think about French Fries every day, but I haven't had any in a long, long time."

"I know what you mean," I said, "It's been a long time since I had any French Fries myself."

Actually, I had some French Fries when I was in New York in March.

"I was thinking of having some French Fries," Mo continued.

"Right now? Here?"

Can you do that at the Rivoli?

"Yes."

"I can hardly remember what French Fries taste like," I sighed.

"The thing is, I don't like to eat French Fries alone."

"It's always more fun with a partner," I agreed.

"Would you like to have some French Fries with me right now?" Mo asked.

"I'd love to."

They were pretty good fries, too.
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Next: another chorus of Working For The Weekend, wherein Postmodern Sass thanks her Gentle Readers. Or, you can click here to find out what Postmodern Sass learned about men from watching Wild Kingdom, or click here to read the next adventure of Postmodern Sass and her karaoke buddies.