Tuesday, June 13, 2006
damn it feels good to be a gangsta
I went to an all girl’s wine-consuming dinner at E’s place. Sufficiently quenched, we headed off to Kitchen Bar. I’m not the biggest fan of the place, but nevertheless it was completely bearable. E and I decided to be French for the evening, and let it be known it comes in handy when peecking up za gents.
Manhattan. Hysterical. And safe to say it actually was a riot because I’ve never been that sober in the place before. It was fantastic. Also because it wasn’t chockers full and the talent wasn’t horrendous either. And I always dig a good boogie. I can now officially write a girl’s How To Pull in Four Moves in simple and easy format:
1) Grope his ass. Seriously.
2) When he turns around, flash him a wicked smile.
3) Dance with him.
4) Kiss him.
It really is that easy. However, I wouldn’t suggest the same plan of action for you gentlemen.
This time it was a complete random. And not a bad looking chap at that. I know what he does, where he studied, where he lives, but don’t for the life of me ask me his name. I didn’t freak out this time to the point where I sprinted from the club, heels a-clattering. Sure, after ten minutes of face sucking I’d had quite enough, but I didn’t leave. I didn’t even go hang out in the ladies. We had a blast. Slept at E’s house, and for one moment when I woke up I wondered whether I’d gone home with someone. Relief. Gotta love a girl’s night (with a cheeky snog on the side.)
PS: Damn it feels good to be a gangsta. Office Space. That guy Peter’s life is my life. At work that is. But damn it feels good to be a gangsta.
PPS: The instrumental version of Girl From Ipanema is exceptional.
Rachel: “Well Ross, I’m afraid I’m dumping you.”
Ross: …Boo hoo hoo! Fine by me!
PPPPS: Third World Ant managed to piss off the Nigerian druglords that reside in the building. She pulled a zap at the guy when he wouldn’t let me drive into the garage first. This is not good.
PPPPPPS: Freaky incident. We drove to the video store in Craighall to get DVDs. In our slippers. That aside, we got White Noise. A horror movie. Just outside the video shop, where there are old DVDs for sale, we saw it there for R30. After renting it out for R27. Then once at home, on Movie Magic, there it was. Woah, man.
PPPPPS: I might’ve toked during the making of this post.
PPPPPPPPPPPS: In the garden. Out of the Twlight Zone that is the recent existence of our lounge. In the sun. On the fresh grass.
PS ∞: Damn it feels good to be a gangsta.
PS ∞∞: I think I’m going to quit my job and become a gangsta. According to the song, anyone can be a gangsta – they come in all shapes and sizes. How easy is it to make methamphetamine and sell it from your house?
PS: ∞∞∞: I swear this is the last PS.