Frankies....

Friday night, a few of view united headed off to Frankie Bananas. Delicious, Token, Doc, Masters and myself were there. It seems we have acquired a few groupies, as most successful and hot teams do. These included Durban, Ranger and two brand new additions that are yet to be named…

I arrive a little late. The huge scary bouncer asks me for ID and it takes every ounce of constraint I have not to leap up and kiss him.
We had found a nice table outside, where it wasn’t too packed, hot or full of hyenas (yes hyenas and they are MUCH worse than vultures). Of course the wooden floor made of planks was not very considerate of my stilettos as I repeatedly got stuck in the gaps. At one point I had to remove my shoes and get a rather strong looking male to pull them out the floor (next post shall be a diet diary). After a few drinks, luckily not enough to bring out Alex and a hang-over induced Loser Complex the next morning; we headed out to the “dance floor.” As we found our little possie we danced feeling slightly random but eventually the mojo was found. Token and Delicious left a little after we began dancing, leaving me with 3 couples. What fun I have to tell you. Nothing like being the 7th wheel. I stood in the centre of a circle of cafoofaling couples dancing a little, looking ridiculous, for 2 reasons. Obviously the couple thing and secondly most of the people there are tiny, I felt like a giant. So there I was drifting and dancing while looking at the top of many heads. I looked around only to notice that there were no impalas and no vultures. The dance floor was simply full of hyenas on heat. There were two girls about 5 feet tall, 19 years of age, grinding against each other in a way that would have made Madonna blush (back in the 80s). Doc had momentarily come up for air and saw this sight as well. The 2 of us could only laugh. The guys who were the recipients of this show found this amusing as well and noticed our laughter and the 4 us giggled at the half naked gyrating girls. I was suddenly aware that someone had made himself at home in my personal space, I spun around only to find that he had been peering over my shoulder looking down my top. Charming. I looked at him with the appropriate amount of disgust and he continued to leer at me. I moved away and stood waiting to get to the bar, only to be rubbed up against by another leering stranger. Now I could understand him having to squeeze past me if there was no room in the joint but there was a HUGE open space behind me. Why oh why do my friends insist on coming to meat markets such as this one?

I imagine the sale of my rump...
Hostess: Step right up and get yourself the deal of a lifetime. This juicy piece of matured beef is up for grabs. She has been marinated and tenderized by our esteemed barmen! She is a little shy so some coaxing is required.
Hmmmm not a very good sales pitch but one couldn’t really say, come near this semi-pickled 24-year old piece of rump and she will make earrings out of your balls? I am comforted by the knowledge that infact there are other hyenas around for the personal-space invading leering men. A man who reaches my waist comes up to me and asks what nationality I am. I mean really!?!?! I resist the urge to reply that I am Nigerian and tell him I am Norwegian, I mean cannot he not tell by my typical Scandinavian looks? (Long brown hair and hazel eyes) PLEASE!? He promptly tells me he is Greek and I promptly tell him I don’t care and if I did I would have asked. I realize at this point I am being somewhat bitchy so I giggle as if I just made the funniest joke, as does he. He sees this as an invitation into my personal space. I stop giggling and walk away.

So hyenas are worse than vultures. They run around, slobbering over everything and grabbing whatever there is available that they feel is part of their diet. As I sit here thinking of ways to make my personal space impermeable to vultures and hyenas I wonder why, just once, I cant meet a lion.

Remain Infinitely Cute
XXX