It’s Thursday and I am flaming thrilled.
My head would probably be hurting less now if I was banging it against a wall. My pet woodpecker is hammering away at my left temple and I would pay someone a lot of Dirhams to end its life.
Last night the Expats found the most smashing Italian restaurant in the heart of Deira (central Dubai). We knocked back one or two breadsticks, followed by 6 bottles of wine. Then we got into an exhilarating Mars/Venus-type debate. I think it was mostly about the best way to meet decent men in this place. Maybe I started it. Kotters confirmed that no man worth his weight in beef would be likely to approach one of us birds in our usual intertwined koeksuster formation on the dance floor, cackling like sari saleswomen at the souk, gooi-ing suitcases down each other’s throats. The lady-clique is impenetrable, fair enough. But we have fun that way.
Everyone is hanging like bats today. Most have had their A game on in the email banter thus far. Kotters reckons he has Cosatu toyi-toyi-ing in his head. Peggy Bundey nearly coughed up a lung on the treadmill this morning. King K had to do an emergency Starbucks run, Jeanpant is sending filthy jokes, and no-one has heard from the Paki.
Besides my mini hangover I can hardly walk - delayed reaction from that BodyPOMP class day before yesterday. I’m currently stalking around like I have a pool-cue down the leg of my pants.
If it wasn’t for my restricted motor abilities I would break into a toyi-toyi. Since Agent mentioned it, I’ve been craving one.
I know tonight’s going to be a biggie cos Peggy has deleted some key men’s numbers from her phone. That is of course, and aggressive Dop ‘n Dial precaution. Out of respect for ourselves, we don’t want to be sending SMSes to people we shouldn’t be thinking of.
TGIT everybody.
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8 comments:
Heddles,
I belly laughed at the cackling sari salesmen... Hahaha.
Just take the advice of Kotters, instead of hanging around in the koek suster formation, go round the bar searching for the wounded game... Your playa status will be upped 10 fold, gangsta - or so I hear.
Yes! I believe hunting the weak brings results. Or so I've heard.
Weak = under 23 years of age. Or Nigel No-mates.
Watch-out now... I see the tally going up quite a lot tonight given the presence of the young guns = weak and wounded!
I will crush their vulnerable young spirits!
If you already are struggling to walk, then definitely don't wear a skirt!! How on earth do people move in these things??!
Sounds like a great night! And in answer to your question a few days back, yes, Miss G indeed. Who just so happens to be reading that book you mentioned today. Hmmm.
Ha Champs. Well if you are mates with that slapper, my opinion of you has taken a nosedive.
Yes, we are having plenty of discussions based on the book, which are getting us NOWHERE. Maybe i should try reading it in a skirt to immerse myself in the appropriate mindset.
Hunting is a game of finesse not a game of power. i.e. don’t just go around lunging at every poor fellow that falls behind the pack.
I'll keep that in mind Love Guru
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