One of a kind, exceptional, sui generis – that’s the girl we all call Nurse (aka Christine Embon). Also “booth bitch” because that’s where you most often find her. And that’s where she must’ve been hiding all night long, last night at her b’day bash celebration at Roxy, with her ggggg hubby, Paulo at the helm – because we never saw her.

When you receive an invite from Nurse, it’s best to follow through, because this woman knows her music. She’s a diehard deejay supporter and she knows when someone’s hitting his/her stride in the booth. So we figured, Hey, it’s Paulo, whom we enjoyed this summer in Montreal for Diverscite, and hey, it’s our anniversary weekend, and that’s a good enough reason to partake of good music while celebrating Nursey’s b’day – and so even before one a.m., we’re inside Roxy, grooving to Paulo’s beats.

He’s good and we’re good and there’s a crowd of sorts, and it’s nice to feel it building, and also for us to be partying at Roxy on a non-major weekend, just so we can see how it usually is for the boyz who love their Roxy on a weekly basis. We hang out on the balcony, watching the crowd build, and watching the gogo boyz shake their moneymakers (and how it is that some men become downright timid around these Adonis boyz, almost Prufrockian as they meekly hand their bills over -- even as Adonis leans down, ready and willing to accept money wherever it’s stuffed). As Montreal boyz know, your bill buys you the right to stick it where you most want to touch. Well, usually, anyway.

And still, no Nurse, not that we can see, even as we peer into Paulo’s booth. But no matter, because it’s a good enough party, with a nice-looking group of local boyz, grooving it up. Somebody spots us and says “Whoa, what are you guys doing here? You never come here.” Well, we’re here tonight, honey. And we dance it up and werk it out, until it’s almost five a.m. A fine way to celebrate: we’ll take it – even if Nurse is face down somewhere missing it all.

Happy birthday, you old thing – wherever you was.