Pig in a Dress

I pay an embarrassing amount of money for a membership at a local health club called the Thoreau Club. Last night they sponsored a barbeque that I was lead to believe was complimentary to pool members. Twenty bucks later, we were enjoying a cheeseburger apiece. The bathroom floors were awash in urine, so my wife inquired to maintenance. She was told that those bathrooms are cleaned every day.

Think about that. There were probably three hundred people in the pool area, roughly two thirds little kids. And they clean the bathroom every day. Have you ever seen a McDonald's bathroom when it isn't maintained every hour?

The condiments bar, stocked with lettuce, tomato, ketchup and the like, didn't have tongs to pick anything out with. My wife watched a man dig through the lettuce, like an eager child up to his elbow in Cap'n Crunch rummaging for the toy surprise, until he found just the right piece. All we could think was does this man wash his hands after he wipes--if he even wipes?

The club pretends to have class, but they could take a few plays from the Four Seasons handbook. You can adorn a pig in a dress, perfume and lipstick, but you still have a hairy hog that rolls in its own shit.

Next year it's the Y.

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Update : I need a cool name for a crime family. Anyone want to try? Namely (ha ha ha) I would like a first name for the father and the underachieving son, and maybe a name for the son who is most like father. The older son is next in line, smarter, but not ruthless enough)