On Pop Culture, Stalking, and #37

The title of this post is misleading, as this is actually post #38. But when I saw I had 37 posts I could only think of the line from "Clerks" -- about 37 being the number of dicks Caitlin Bree had sucked. I can't count the number of times I have heard someone randomly exclaim "37!" and you know you have found a fellow Kevin Smith fan.

Last night I ventured to the Seminole Hard Rock Casino and entertainment complex located somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Broward County. To quote another great pop culture reference, namely Carrie Bradshaw of "Sex and the City", Fort Lauderdale is like a small European country ... the music and fashion are all five years behind. I know, it worked better in reference to Staten Island, but if you have been to the Seminole, you know what I'm talking about.

My friend M and I went on an exploratory mission, hoping to gather enough ammunition to convince other friends to join us at the Seminole another night. In all it was a pleasant evening, despite disgusting bachelor partiers from out of state at a too-cool-for-you type of establishment, in addition to the half hour drive up I-95, dodging drunk drivers and other associated morons. The drinks were cheap (well, compared to the Beach, at least...), the lines were short (again, compared to the Beach) and we were probably the thinnest girls in the clubs. It's amazing that you can comparatively look like you lost ten pounds just by crossing a county line, but it's true. No doubt girls were looking at us and saying we must not eat, when in fact we say the very same things about the girls we see out every weekend in Miami. Just one indication that sure enough, everything is relative.

I was interested in the Seminole for another reason, as well -- ex-BF frequents the casino often (more often than he should) and I was curious to see where it was he spent all his time. No, I wasn't stalking him, I knew he was at the Hurricanes game. So, ok, yes, I was stalking him, because I knew where he was going to be, but I was trying to avoid him, not find him.

And speaking of stalking, the cunning overlords of Friendster have made stalking just a little more difficult by allowing users to see who has checked their profiles. I think I scoped out nearly every single man in South Florida the other night, hopefully before this feature was added. Fortunately the feature can be turned off, but it definitely takes people a little while to figure it out. Interestingly enough, an old crush of mine (read: former obsession) checked my profile the other day. He has a girlfriend, lives out-of-state, but comes through town on occasion. So I e-mailed him. I'm not a homewrecker, I'm just saying hello.

After all - he's the one who checked ME out.