Part of the burlesque attractions involved "boothes," essentially pool tables cluttered with topless ladies (pasties attached). Underneath the piles of womanhood lay people hungry for lusty massages. They received. By far the most interesting booth involved a $1400 machine that, my friend D. explained, "takes the place of a man." The event organizers were offering demonstrations of this machine, and one of them chirpily asked me if I wanted to go for a ride. NO, I did not. A fully-clothed woman with curly black hair and fashionable eyeglasses was more willing, and Ben and I watched her as she apparently "got it on" with the machine. Interestingly, very few people joined us in becoming spectators. Here was this fairly attractive woman rubbing her private pieces all over a pricey sex gizmo set up on a pool table in the middle of a packed club, and no one was watching. They seemed more interested in bumming smokes or talking � about landmine deactivation, no doubt.

The woman with eyeglasses dismounted the Orgasmotron, receiving her commemorative wad of Saran-Wrap (used to cover the machine when in use ... sanitation first). Ben and I left. On the way back to his car, we saw that a line had formed outside Spiro's, a club just a few doors down from Elysium. Often Spiro's hosts "leg contests" and similar events, but I think those are reserved for slow weekdays. Every time I've passed by Spiro's, loud Top 40 music has boomed in my direction; it's not exactly a "hot" place unless you're someone whose highpoints in life all occurred during high school. But many people are like that, so they go to this place and grind to Christina Aguilera and such. It struck me as funny that at Spiro's, which attracts jock-and-cheerleader types, the wildest time you can have is grinding up against a half-wit with a Bud Light in your hand and shitty radio music in your ears, while two doors down at Elysium all the kids who were nerds and geeks in high school walk around with pasties on and/or mount Orgasm machines. More than that, at a Spiro's-type place the menboys always stand around in groups and stare with lusty amazement at the gals, who usually dance poorly. Meanwhile, at last night's political benefit women were having sexual experiences in front of tons of people and the people don't even notice. Is that ironic? (After Alanis Morrisette distorted that word, I'm not exactly sure what qualifies as ironic and what doesn't.)