stag

I went on a stag night out yesterday. I had some pleasant drinks in the counting house pub in the center of Glasgow. I bailed when the group decided to go to a casino. I don't really like gambling so much. I did enjoy putting quarters in slot machines when I was in the US (for the crashing sounding and crazy colours), but I don't have the patience to play cards or watch the roulette wheel spin. Playing cards requires skill and knowledge that I don't have. Most British casinos don't allow Russian roulette, so they really are no fun. After the casino there was talk of going to a strip bar. I don't have a moral problem with strip bars, but I have never gone to one. Part of the reason was that I worry that I would get the fear and sweats, and not in a positive erotic way, more in a crazy emotional problem way. I could barely breath when I was taken to see a belly dancer. Actually it was before a meal in a Greek restaurant. But as the flesh gyrated and wobbled, my own flesh became icy and pale. I tried to hide the shakes from the relatively normal couple I was with. Since Richard Feynman sometimes did calculations in a strip bar, I don't think that there would be any professional problems if anyone found out. Although I have had some association with the catholic faith, I don't think that traditional guilt is causing me problems. In that case I would have gone to the strip bar had a great time, but then felt a bit guilty the morning afterwards. Anyway after browsing on Amazon I have bourght the book by Belle de Jour. My path to mental health is assured.