Mozzarella ciliegine is like one of the more disgusting things I can think of that is actually amazing. I mean sitting there in its grey water, like eyeballs at a Halloween party? The overpriced packages at the grocery store always grossed me out but my friend brought some over for dinner recently and I was hooked. I have always been a cheese hound but these are a strong argument in favour of this same friend’s half-baked theory that all dairy is chock full of opiates, which is perhaps why she remains a mere judgmental vegetarian rather than a full-fledged and self-righteous vegan. she claims to have gotten a hangover from the mozzarella balls, further proving the addictive and destructive nature of dairy. Maybe it’s the dark side, but I can’t stop eating them.
Regan says if “friendly competition” sounds too passive aggressive I should go ahead and call it an unfriendly competition. She’s winning, by the way. She works two shifts more a week than I do, but more importantly, had a mass windfall of 19 dances on a night I wasn’t working, boosting her to 80-something now while I linger and languish at 60-something. “Cash before ass” she told me.
I haven’t been taking as many notes because the competition keeps me busy, circling the room and being more consistently friendly than I thought it was possible to be. Sometimes I go to the bathroom just to hide where there are no cameras and let my face relax from smiling. I breathe deep and then go back out.
The night shift just started and I was making the rounds when I saw this guy who looked like Jesus. No one else looked particularly promising so I headed over to him even though I knew if Regan was watching she’d be shaking her head. This might even have been the night of Compromise, it’s hard to remember.
“Hey! How are you tonight?”
“I’m good I’m good.”
I tried to slide in close to him and realised I couldn’t: his legs were crossed yoga style on the bench, feet in Jesus sandals and everything. This was gonna be good.
“So what brings you to ____ tonight?”
“Well… I was meditating and I had a revelation.”
“Unh huh. And it said, ‘Get thee to a strip club,’ did it?”
“I had this revelation that life is a field dappled with light and shadow, light and darkness.”
“And I have been afraid of darkness and I have fought it in myself and in this revelation I realised no more. I have clung to the light!”
I looked across the room for Regan, checking to make sure she could see my face and that I will have a story for her later. “So you were like I need some darkness, time for a strip club.”
“No! I have cleaved to the light and I need darkness in my life! I need to admit the darkness in myself! I need to embrace it!”
“I think a lap dance would really get you in touch with that.”
“Well… I don’t have any money, I left my wallet in the car.”
“That’s really great.”
I wandered off, barely able to contain my laughter until I made it to the dj booth.
“And how did that go?”
“I was meditating!”
“And–and, I HAD A REVELATION.”
“And it said, YOU NEED TO GET IN TOUCH WITH YOUR DARK SIDE, EMBRACE IT, SO GO TO THE STRIP CLUB BUT DON’T BRING YOUR WALLET.” It’s a good thing the music is always loud because I was practically howling. “You need a FREE REVELATION OF FEMALE FLESH.”
“That’s… really something. I saw you go for him and I just knew.”
“He’s wearing Jesus sandals and has his legs crossed yogi style! He had a revelation! Embrace your dark side! Embrace it!”
Later that night we were talking about a girl who always seemed sad who just left to go work for the skinhead club manager.
“Why would you do that?” I wondered.
“Everyone’s embracing their dark side,” Regan answered drily.