Fly or Die?

fly or die

Monday, August 23, 2004
Speedy Saturday We arrive at the cafe. Candle light, soft music, lavender incense, booze. Storybook romance setting. Not surprisingly, I more jumpy than June the cool cat. June is dressed in this fitting dark blue spaghetti strap dress - lovely! June is one of the most excellent women I know - keen mind, sharp wit, earns oodles of money and makes a really mean lemak laksa. She's not bad in the looks department either- tanned skin, short curly hair and a cute upturned nose. I once tried to play the matchmaker between her and Tomas. I don't think she has forgiven me yet. There were already 7 women and 11 guys there. All heads turn to look as we step in. Everyone wants to check out the new meat. I clear my throat and announce, "Gentlemen, the love of your life has arrived. Now, bitches, get lost." Righty, no, I didn't but I was tempted. "Smile woman," I nudge her. "First impressions, remember!" "Stop it. You're making me nervous," she whispers. The other women have also dressed to kill. One was dressed in a tube - exposing her navel ring. Another in some glittery gown. Quite a few with peek-a-boo cleavages. Suddenly, I felt rather shabby in my drawstring pants and red Padini tee. I wouldn't have stood a chance against them. We quickly grab a drink and find a corner to survey the offerings. "Hmm ... cute," I signal with a quick dart of my eyes to one of the bachelors. He was talking to a balding, paunchy guy. Tall Eurasian, in black shirt and pants. What's he doing here? I wonder. Chicks would be all over him at a snap of his fingers, no? "Too pretty boy," she says. "Ooo ... you're hard to impress. What if I get him to take off his shirt? I think his chest hair is just bursting to come out and play." "Shut up, you! How about the guy in blue?" "Okay-lah. A bit short. Oops," I laugh, "no pun intended." "I shouldn't have checked you out of the institution," she sighs. At first glance, Mr Blue Shirt and a few others make the shortlist. We cross out Mr Crotch Scratcher for hygiene reasons, Mr Ogler who looked like a dingo frozen by the headlights of the lady talking to him and Mr Sloucher whose stomach led the way and had pants pulled up to his armpits. Cringe. Just then, the gong sounds and the meat market opens for business. We "friends" are ushered in to a "waiting area" while Cupid sharpens his arrow. Aim right, my friend. ... for Part 2, click here. Pencil chewed at 10:47:00 am //
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