...the last words kitty ever heard...

A list of grievances, because it's a Thursday blizzard night with lightning, and I am snowed in, in the suburbs, and so am entitled;

i) As it turns out, so Rob tells me, the Duke of Gloucester has a website and also a message board. I visited, though aware that to do so would take my attachment to this bar to an entirely unreasonable level. Nonetheless, I visited and found a forum sparsely attended (give it time, the site is new) and yet, there were several messages from this one girl. All of them complaints of some kind. The trivia is bad, the staff is rude, the food isn't good... each one in a different thread. And I think to myself, if all you have to say about this bar is negative, you are spending a disproportionate amount of energy on this website.

I also consider "holla"-ing back, letting it be known you can't just go around dissing other people's bars. But then I think, this girl might be bigger than me. Or something.

ii) I don't speak Turkish! This is making it more challenging (but not impossible) to enjoy the music of Tarkan, who is my new heart. And the dancing! I've spent the last hour belly dancing around my living room barefoot in pjs, but with my sequened wrap (one must always have the sequined wrap). I sort of want a tambourine. To supplement the dance. Another grievance, no tambourine.

iii) Maggie-girl and I had shared bemoaning earlier; lack of fun, lack of men, lack of... and I could not give her bemoaning any credibility. One does not bemoan the lack of men when one has a man waiting for you in London, less than 2 hours away! In tight jeans! It just isn't done.

iv) Did I mention I was snowed in? I think that counts as a grievance. I have places I could be. Like a Swig Newton party, with vanilla vodka.