Lately, I've been hanging out at RnB clubs on Friday nights *cringe* Mainly because I want to spend time with my mates who happen to like RnB. So I put up with the bad-on-my-creaky-knees "dancing" for the company.
Straight out - I don't find oriental guys attractive. So walking into a club filled with them exasperates me. Just because there are certain stereotypes about oriental guys that just ring too true. I'm not saying all oriental guys are like this, but the ones I've seen in clubs lately are:
:: DORKY looking with their gelled-up Dragonball Z locks, and triad-style Rick Astley vests;
:: REALLY SHORT to the point where I can see over them when I'm wearing heels;
:: INCREDIBLY STUPID when it comes to the art of picking up women.
Scenario: Me having a good time dancing with my Hotty Friend. Along comes an oriental shorty who starts grinding in close vicinity. *Gee*, that's not creepy at all. We give him the cold shoulder, to no effect.
To be fair, I'm pretty cynical when it comes to guys picking up. A lot of guys in dance clubs have tried the lamer line, "Are you having a good night?" on me - to which I'm internally thinking, "Wtf do you think I'm here if I'm _not_ having a good night?"
So! Imagine what I'm thinking when all the oriental shorty can think of saying to us is, "What's wrong?"
Hotty Friend: "What's wrong? You don't speak Australian."
Me: "What's wrong?!? STOP. Get your hand off me. You're fcking too close."
You'd think this would be a sign for him to go away. However, he persists for a little longer until he's approached by his "wing-woman" and advised to leave the set.
Creepy little people... they exist in RnB clubs :P
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Monday, October 05, 2009
Antony Micallef
I'm fast becoming a lover of Lazarides gallery. Remember how I'd love to own a piece of Antony Micallef? Lazarides is currently exhibiting his work :) It's not a big exhibition, it's just a powerful one. In the 15 minutes I spent perusing his work, the word I'd use to describe his work is raw.
I love it. I wish I could pay for it.
The romance
That picture in my head... Of a lovely, airy space... Filled with funky chairs and couches... The aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans wafting with the open breeze...
...Is dead :P
My first week as Rondon's oldest tea lady is over. ME - the seasoned Queen of all-night Doof-Doof raves, a hardcore mid-week drinker, a jetlagged-jet-setting globetrotter, an insomniac vampiric nightowl unphased by daylight - ME! Heartily admits I was knackered out by the end of my second day of manual labour :P
Killed by the overzealous mopping I've had to do over the past week. Did I mention how HUUUGE Yumchaa Soho is? It's TWO LEVELS. I don't even mop my own 3m2 kitchen at home! *Chagrin*
So hard had I worked during the past week, that I spent the entire Sunday in BED. Knocked out. Ok, so I did go clubbing with B till 3am on Saturday. Then had a drink or two with T and Boss Lady after my long Saturday shift. You know what? I didn't even last till midnight on Saturday. Home before the carriage turned into a pumpkin.
Yet, I savoured every minute of my social life *grin*
It's a strange rollercoaster. I wake up in the morning, and it's a good sign at least that I still want to go to work. It's a good sign that I don't dread turning up early on the Boss Man's doorstep and waking him up *grin* (it's just the mopping I dread). It's made me think about, "What sort of shop do I want to open?" Well, for starters, I can tell you it's a SMALL shop which requires little cleanup!
It's made me think, "Why aren't I working this hard for myself"?
It's not mentally challenging, it's just hard physical labour (Wtf, stop whinging about your desk job, I love sitting infront of a pooter all day!). To the point where my right arm was seriously *twinging* on Sunday. My right hand sufferred pins and needles, and today I discovered it actually hurt to write (Wicky! I was filling out your form!). Carpal tunnel anyone? Though Y* thinks it could just be a bad case of RSI ;) I hearts having med friends.
Yup, the romance of owning my own cafe is dead. Well, sort of. I still want to do _something_ of my own. Maybe just not on such a large scale atm... I will need munkey minions in that direction. It's a good thing, it's brought me down to earth.
This week has made me truly appreciate the value of my hard earnt pound. It's also made me value how much I took my social life for granted. It's made me love Rondon's public transport system. Only in Rondon could I travel 5.4-freaking-km from Soho to Chelsea, and then back within an hour break! *phew* When I make promises to friends, I don't break them ;) It's a good thing I've been running at the gym, that's all I can say.
...Is dead :P
My first week as Rondon's oldest tea lady is over. ME - the seasoned Queen of all-night Doof-Doof raves, a hardcore mid-week drinker, a jetlagged-jet-setting globetrotter, an insomniac vampiric nightowl unphased by daylight - ME! Heartily admits I was knackered out by the end of my second day of manual labour :P
Killed by the overzealous mopping I've had to do over the past week. Did I mention how HUUUGE Yumchaa Soho is? It's TWO LEVELS. I don't even mop my own 3m2 kitchen at home! *Chagrin*
So hard had I worked during the past week, that I spent the entire Sunday in BED. Knocked out. Ok, so I did go clubbing with B till 3am on Saturday. Then had a drink or two with T and Boss Lady after my long Saturday shift. You know what? I didn't even last till midnight on Saturday. Home before the carriage turned into a pumpkin.
Yet, I savoured every minute of my social life *grin*
It's a strange rollercoaster. I wake up in the morning, and it's a good sign at least that I still want to go to work. It's a good sign that I don't dread turning up early on the Boss Man's doorstep and waking him up *grin* (it's just the mopping I dread). It's made me think about, "What sort of shop do I want to open?" Well, for starters, I can tell you it's a SMALL shop which requires little cleanup!
It's made me think, "Why aren't I working this hard for myself"?
It's not mentally challenging, it's just hard physical labour (Wtf, stop whinging about your desk job, I love sitting infront of a pooter all day!). To the point where my right arm was seriously *twinging* on Sunday. My right hand sufferred pins and needles, and today I discovered it actually hurt to write (Wicky! I was filling out your form!). Carpal tunnel anyone? Though Y* thinks it could just be a bad case of RSI ;) I hearts having med friends.
Yup, the romance of owning my own cafe is dead. Well, sort of. I still want to do _something_ of my own. Maybe just not on such a large scale atm... I will need munkey minions in that direction. It's a good thing, it's brought me down to earth.
This week has made me truly appreciate the value of my hard earnt pound. It's also made me value how much I took my social life for granted. It's made me love Rondon's public transport system. Only in Rondon could I travel 5.4-freaking-km from Soho to Chelsea, and then back within an hour break! *phew* When I make promises to friends, I don't break them ;) It's a good thing I've been running at the gym, that's all I can say.
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