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Pardon this Andy Rooneyesque digression, but what the fuck is it with the wheatgrass in New York clubs? If you want that stuff in your Jamba Juice, then fine, enjoy the cleansing nutrients in the privacy of your own bowels. But wheatgrass has begun to creep out from the end tables to larger centerpiece platters and even to this huge planter, photographed in colonial cocktail den Pegu Club's bathroom and submitted by a puzzled reader. Near as we can tell, it serves no function besides the questionably and superficially aesthetic. Of an evening, we've run into wheatgrass lurking in three of four downtown venues, all in different neighborhoods. Is wheatgrass now required for cabaret license renewal? Are we supposed to graze upon the wheatgrass while awaiting the next round? Or is wheatgrass the new nightlife equivalent of decorating's ever-present bowl of green apples? Regardless, we're dumping a shot of bar-brand vodka on every one of these we see from now on. Please join us.