Cream Scream

Hackneyed costumes abound at last night’s Cream Halloween gig at the World Trade Center I was rolling my eyeballs when cutified versions of Dracula, goth angel and boring zombies pass by. I wasn’t keen on going because Psyche wouldn’t be around. Then again I thought the hell with it. Just because she’s stuck elsewhere I should stay home and mope. All my pseudofriends seem to be preoccupied somewhere else so I decided to meet our office assistant Indigo, our intern Mercutio and my intrepid assistant Psylocke. Despite the general languor I felt earlier we had a blast. I was hitting on a very slick chick in a bright cheongsam whom I was grinding with in the VIP booth and given her heavy flirting I was all set of messing my sheets tonight but then the hilariously dorky thing happened. Psylocke got smashed from having too much beer and she was whirling around like the megastar Pole Dancer in a Vegas Revue. Things got thornier when we bumped into the Japanese-Brazilian model that she had a major crush on and she wildly switched from a professional office vixen into a hormone-crazed puma on a prowl. Very rich moment. I wanna cringe but I chuckled at the absurdity of it all. However I ended up babysitting and was muttering foul, obscene oaths in my head for the missed ONS. That did it. From hereon never go out with young assistants with low tolerance for intoxicants if you care deeply about your hormonal well-being. Sad. Very sad.