Look, people, it's starting to settle in. In less than a week and a half, this entire house is supposed to be packed up and moved to Michigan. I'm moving to Motor City, the home of the Satanic GM Overlord and the Ford museum. The home of nostalgic Woodward Avenue and the race wars of the '60's. The nursery of angry, dark, and macabre industrial music (my favorite!). In essence, the home of a great big abandoned downtown with lots of nice bedroom communities.

I've heard the potholes eat small children for breakfast.

The good news is, I'll only be about three miles north of the famed 8 Mile Road. While Detroit tourism magazines encourage visitors to 'traverse the character-riddled road of Motor City, and discover it is much more than what Eminem portrays!', I will quickly rebut and say, 'No. 8 mile road is exactly what the movie depicts--a wash of superindustrialized factories and a ton of cheesy strip malls.'

And the liquor stores! My God! The liquor stores on every corner! But in Detroit, they are called 'party stores'. Who gets that? Apparently, Michael.

Lemmee tell you something: If you are a single, desperate, slightly disturbing man and searching for the quintessential slimy, grody, ew-something-sticky-is-on-my-seat strip club experience, search no further. You have found your Mecca. 8 Mile Road is home to (and I researched this, thanks to Google):

• The Booby Trap
• Hot Tamales
• Trumpps
• The Coliseum (what, do they sacrifice old strippers at the end of the night to lions, or something?)
• Player's
• Tycoon's Reservations

All within a short mile distance from one another.

(Interestingly enough, the Google search also threw the Rosa Parks Institute for Self Development up when I put in 'strip clubs, 8 mile, detroit'. I'm not entirely sure what this means, but I am pretty sure it is hilarious. I have often wanted to strip to make myself feel better, but it has often ended with me sobbing and someone yelling, "JESUS GOD PUT ON YOUR CLOTHES!")

Truly. I'm thrilled about this move and excited for the possibilities. A strip club could very well be in my future. I saw pictures of these chicks, and I assure you. I have a shot. A long shot, depending on my ability to hang suspended from a pole by my wasabi, but a shot nonetheless.

Those girls looked really tired.

Wish me luck in all my new endeavors.