When it's time to leave....running.

I went to a bachelor party the other night. I find that idea interesting, because NOBODY I KNOW is getting married. So I showed up late and tried to duck into the back. It's an odd habit of mine.

I don't really like adult "entertainment" that much. The idea of being viewed like a human ATM - they just have to figure which of my buttons to press to make the money come out - lost it's appeal years and years ago. I used to help hold down the wheel of a little shake joint and I guess after a while of four nights a week I kinda burnt out on the whole thing. So although I live in Atlanta which has more little spots like this than you would believe, I'm not a fan.

But I do know this. The kind of dancer who would choose a private party over a club is someone who would be, and I'm trying to put this delicately, would be a less than superstar contestant. A few points less than a ten, ya know. But the party is around the corner and I was bored, so what the hey.

And wouldn't you know it, I was right.

So I spend most of the function in the kitchen, away from the main event. It's a "New Skool" bachelor party, as there are women as well as men enjoying the "entertainment." The music is whatever plays next on the CD player and the living room which probably looks huge with five people in it was shoulder to shoulder to dancer. It's a typical low key affair that just chugs along as everybody has a good time. But as long as everybody has a good time, it's all gravy.

Now another interesting feature is that the host thoughtfully installed is a pole. Which is really interesting because none of the dancers can well, to a woman none of them is ...er, of the right size...to make best use of the item. It just kinda stands there. But pole was finally why I knew it was time to leave.

So as the function wound down, the entertainment is ...lounging...and somehow without me really paying attention the after party becomes Pole Dancing 101 - for beginners. A few of the dancers have to be "helped" into position before they're attempts at acrobatic tricks fail. It becomes a comedy moment. Then a few of the remaining female patrons decide to give it a try... but are no better. I think I just jingled my keys in pocket, an absent minded gesture that was perhaps fate's way of saying "and that's your cue."

So this GUY grabs the pole...yes, a man. He swings his body around and does a pole slide. Seriously.

The women laughed themselves into hysterics, the "entertainment" applauded and I found the exit so fast you would have thought I'd discovered teleportation. Not my kinda party. No sir. No siree Bob. I thanked the host, who in typical fashion was at the in-the-street talking about nothing for twenty to forty more minutes afterset that happens at every house party.

But that which as been seen cannot be unseen.

Barkeep...you got any eye bleach?

Quick Film Review - Why Did I Get Married?

This weekend, on opening weekend, I went and saw Tyler Perry's latest Why Did I Get Married, the next in his line of feel good uplifting stories of the Black Experience. I was originally going to see it at Atlantic Station, but I forgot about the Taste of Atlanta and so I dashed up to Phipps. I now remember why I prefer Atlantic Station.

Mr. Perry's world seems to inhabit the same world of the black romance novel, where everyone is well off, well educated and articulate. Well, almost everyone. My favorite character, Tasha Smith's feisty Angela is the black woman I know. Obviously educated and accomplished, but more than willing to unleash if provoked. As much as I want to be mad that the characters lives seem so plastic, I'm kinda glad they're not portrayed as the bad stereotypes. But is there no middle ground to the black character? Either they've made it to the top, or hustlin on the side. Where are the people in the middle?

(In the interest of full disclosure I've had a thing for Tasha Smith since I first saw her in NBC's Boston Commons in the mid-90s)

I won't go into the story, you had to have read it somewhere...four couples get together for their annual retreat, this time in Colorado, only to have the secrets and issues they've been repressing bubble to the surface. This is my take on it: Janet Jackson is stiff at times, Tyler Perry has written himself the Jimmy Stewart/Good guy role, and Richard T. Jones comes across so unabashedly vile it's almost fun to see just how far he can take it. Smith and Jones characters and performances spice up an otherwise bland bit of celluloid. It's a Tyler Perry movie, so you know it will all work out in the end, but that's not why you go. I laughed, I cried, I was shocked, and watched Sporty suck in a breath when man candy hit the screen. So it wasn't perfect, but it was good.

I'm thinking, the good people in Hollywood may need to turn to look at the Perry Method and learn a trick or two. This is the third incarnation of this project, from stage play to filmed version of the stage play to feature film. Having already found out what works night after night, all Perry has been doing with existing works is put the last bit of Hollywood polish on them and he's got gold. In an industry that prides itself on milking every formula and is struck with sequelitis, you would think they would appreciate the "just do it over with a new sticker" concept that's putting the butts in the seats.

One last point. I realize that the film wasn't pre-screened for the media, but Filmcritic.com doesn't have a review up 72 hours after release. And for the #1 film in America? It's a shame.

You need to go see it. Good film.

Barkeep - Maker's Mark and a dash of Ginger. Yeah.