Monday Massacres: This just in

This stuff is brought to you by:

Wi luv tha additionz ths hiya guy hz med 2 textual intercourse…he has dusted iti off, n put it there fwa. Hs thumb’s are soa 4m txtg. Hz 4ne buttns r soft soft 4m over-doing. Gd rdg.

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There I was seated. Bored stiff. Counting the number of dance moves the drunk on the other end of the room had. Three and a half moves exactly. One where he raised his leg above his head and hopped around for a bit. One where he made groin movements that were supposed to be suggestive. Going by the mixed reaction he was getting from the barmaid, the movement prolly wasn’t suggestive enough. And one really interesting move where he shuffled his feet around, in a sorta cool way…at this point I should have walked up to him and asked him to show me how to do that particular move but he was drunk, staggering, drooling more than talking, and basically working up a small lake around him, one he’d later slip in and fall. As he laid his bed, so he had to sleep in it. Honestly, which dwansie thinks that is a profound saying? Why would a grown self-respecting man wake up, fight off the urge to leave an unmade bed, lay it and then give it out to someone else to sleep in?

Oh yes, the drunk’s half move involved a half raised leg with simultaneous groin and hand motion…I couldn’t consider it a full dance move; there wasn’t enough character to it to make it one. Yes, these dance shows, ‘So you think you can dance’ et all, had made me knowledgeable in these dancy things.

So, me, seated, bored stiff. And my buddy from outside countries was seated on the next sofa, grossly engaged, to near-kissing levels, in a conversation with some random dude. And then my mind said “F! it, let’s both get out of here. We could have more fun watching the Simpsons at home’. By both I think mind was referring to both dirty brain side and nice church-going side. So just as I got up to take the odd pair home (said Pam Anderson to the barman), buddy from outside countries tapped my hand. And we got into an animated conversation about geo-physics and its implications on bar dynamics. And we analyzed how the theory was at play in the bar. We thrashed that out before moving onto Schrödinger’s ‘Get-laid’ theory. And we saw that that guy in bright blue shirt, near the pack of ladies in bright red dresses, that guy wasn’t going to get laid. He was going against everything Schrödinger emphasized in his theory. Schrödinger was a great scientist….he had game, and he had science. Ultra geek with game. Unlike many a scientist of his time actually.

And during this mind-exchange, random dude (who was previously engaged in acts of very small talk with my buddy from abroad) was sipping furiously from a bottle. And with each sip a bad eye was thrown at me. I knew my time was not much. That bottle being sipped was my sandbox, counting down to doom. Through the corner of my eye, I watched as the bottle-fluid dropped to dangerous levels. I know that once it was done, random dude would want to do more than throw the per sip bad eye. So I feigned a cough, and a hurting ball, and I told buddy from abroad that I had to leave, one ball was hurting. No, no, buddy from abroad couldn’t check the ball. To all buddies from abroad, I know its now hard to do the ‘Girls gone wild’ thing here, but you could walk through the taxi park furiously sucking on a lollipop, Petesmama guarantees that it pumps up just as much adrenaline as GGW…And so the week begins.