Friday, 12 June 2009

Friday, 12 June 09

It is an extremely quiet Thursday night so that is why the bar we were at has shut and now we've moved to Bronx. At The Bronx there is me, Alex, Andrew and Kevin.

And there is Justin too.

Except Andrew and Kevin have now left so there is just Alex and me. And Justin.

I have to say to Justin, "Justin, I might as well come out and tell you. The guy I am with, I am paying for by the hour and it's costing around R500 an hour." ($62 / £37)

This is a ploy to try and repulse Justin into leaving us alone.

"Justin every time stagger up to me to tell me what you think about me and then put your arm around me, it's costing me R100." ($12.42 / £7.51)

Justin staggers up to Alex; "I wouldn't pay R500 for you".
Alex says to Justin; "I wouldn't go with you for anything less than R10,000".
And Justin has stopped bothering us.

I having a wee in the siffiest toilet I have ever weed in for the last 9 years and 4 months. If this is it on a quiet night, can you imagine it when the club is rammed?!

Someone has now started to pester Alex so we decide that we are not going to stay at The Bronx anymore so we leave.

We are sitting in Alex's car chomping pies that we bought at the filling station.

We are sitting at Alex's house where he is still chomping on a pie and I am swigging wine out of the bottle. There is conversation too though no music. We're trying not to make too much noise.

We talk about:
1/ Guys
2/ Cars
3/ Stuff

I am sitting having a cup of tea and a cigarette. I have not smoked a cigarette at this time of the morning since er... the last time I did. It must be pre-2009.

And Justine and Melissa appear from the flat downstairs from Alex's and I am onto my second cigarette. We decide that all we want is a glass of wine and sushi.

I don't think you've met Justine and Melissa or perhaps you have? This is them in the car from earlier last night...

My, what a lovely pair, you say...

Anyway. Sushi and wine is what we are doing...

Except Melissa and Justine are having Bloody Marys and Alex and I have opted for Long Island Iced Teas. It's Friday morning for God's sake.

And it's so lovely to be sitting the warm winter sun and I wish that I could do this for the rest of the time that I am on earth but it's not going to happen. Mainly because I can't sit in the same place 24/7.

We are back at Alex's flat where he is packing to go home to Zimbabwe for a while, the next morning. I am putting my stuff in my car to go home to my parents right now.


At my parents and jeez, I need a bloody drink.

My dad is home from work and my mother hasn't bothered to put the stove on so this means we're going out for dinner!

This is going to be an experience as painful as it sounds. This is going to be seriously bad.

I love my parents dearly but to be honest, they are ghastly and middle class.

We are at the restaurant so beloved of my parents. It takes 23 seconds after my dad has sat down for the waitress to have bounded up to him. She is practically sitting in his lap and stroking his head.

"Hello Mr Cox, so lovely to see you again. Hope you're going to have a great meal here. Love you lots. Do you mind if I wiggle on your lap?" etc.

The restaurant isn't a chain which is why it's made to look like one.

It is decorated in the style of a Greek-stylee taverna complete with fake blue wooden doors on the wall and fish netting hanging from the ceiling.

Except at this restaurant you eat seafood not Greek food but the experience is pretty authentic nonetheless. It's like being one stop from Mykonos.

And trust me, I know Greece. I've seen Mamma Mia AND Shirley Valentine.

If you didn't know you'd think I we were Santorini-lite...

My dad is basking in the attention from the waitress.

She is nearly being as nice to him as an Eastern European mail order bride is, the night before she realises that her man's penis and wallet are not of the size she was expecting.

My mother says "gosh, it's so nice when the waitresses make an effort."

I am not sure whether to file my mother's statement under ignorance, naivety or 'Three Glasses of Chardonnay Down'?

The waitress is looking deep into my dad's eyes. She's 17. She wants to be an actress. She wants showbiz and city lights and she wants to be a dancer.
She tells him her dreams, her wants, her desires.

She tells him all these things because he asked her when she brought the bill. Perhaps it is also because my mum's gone to the loo.

"Oh, Mr Cox, it's been such a pleasure to serve you. I've loved every minute."

"Oh, Tracey, its been such a pleasure to have you serve us. I have loved every minute. Oh..."



She gets the customary 10% tip from my dad.

I did warn you. Ghastly and middle class.

We get up to leave and dad is looking around. He wants a last good-bye from Tracey. Er, good-bye my ass!

She glides past and doesn't even look up to acknowledge my dad.

We're in the car on the way home and my dad is not saying anything. This amuses me greatly.

Friday night. Home. Bed. It's been a long, long day...


MadeInScotland said...

should that be am not BOG!


Bobby Cox said...

That's so good you can have a pat!
*pat* x x x