Truth is Stranger than Fiction
It all started out innocently enough. My British ex-husband Mark* emailed me to say that his childhood friend Dan was getting married and would I show the newlyweds around while they were passing through on their way to Thailand for their honeymoon. Sure I said, why not?
So on Friday night 4 August, Dan (whom I hadn't seen in over 10 years), his wife Deirdre (it was her first time in Asia and I had never met her before), my friend Natalie and myself had happy hour drinks at a bar on the 72nd floor of one of the hotels. It has a fantastic view of the city and is very posh. Then we went for a delicious local dinner. Natalie kindly drove us around in her BMW so I think we were giving the newlyweds a rather civilized and positive impression of our country.
We got to my favourite Irish pub and many more friends arrived, including my flatmate Rachel. We were having a great time and I should have known it would go downhill when three big white guys walked in dressed as women. They had full make up on, painted nails and pantyhose. One was in a long orange dress, the second in a green mu-mu type number and the third was in a baby doll top and matching bloomer shorts. He had padded (though admittedly lumpy) breasts. On each large head was a scarf (babushka) that cleaning ladies in the UK wear.
Well, you could have heard a pin drop. Our entire table, in stunned silence, collectively eyeballed the three very ugly "women" walk across the bar to join their friends. To my growing horror, I realized that I actually knew one of them, whom I had spoken to a couple of times before. Craig is from the UK, has a shaved head, several huge tattoos and works in construction. Oh, and he's built like a brick sh*thouse.
Whereas I would normally go over and talk to them, I thought it wouldn't give Dan and Deirdre a very good impression so I played it cool and continued to sip my vodka cranberry. Unfortunately, Craig not only paints a mean fingernail, he also has very sharp eyesight. Not long afterwards, he slowly strutted over in our direction, causing me to panic but realizing too late that there was no place to hide. He stopped in front of our table, pointed at me and pursed his lips in a kiss. My friends burst out laughing and I was completely mortified. Seeing that the game was up, I gave in gracefully and introduced Britain's Finest to everyone and we all had a good laugh. At some point during the evening, the lead singer of the band got Dan and Deirdre to have a dance and I took some hilarious photos of the love birds in the foreground, and three men in drag slow dancing in the background.
Note to the double Ds: please send the pics to me so I can forward those on! Note to ex-husband: don't say that I don't show your friends a good time!
The newlyweds left shortly afterwards and it's a good thing that they did because the following then happened:
1. Craig and his friend Ken in the orange dress snogged. If you have never seen two men the size of tanks in full make up french kiss, take my word for it, you need a strong stomach.
2. The third "woman" in the babydoll top pulled down his bloomers. On the end of his pierced manhood (also known as a Prince Albert for all of you not in the know), hung his house keys. I SWEAR that this part is true, and I have my friends as fellow witnesses. Not only that, but he was so well hung that I am sure he could have opened his front door without taking the keys off his piercing.
Well, what can I say? This is NOT a typical night out with me. On that note, we decided to go over to another party nightspot also known as the four floors of wh*res. I mean, why not continue on the path we were obviously meant to walk that Friday night? We danced at up a storm and finally at one in the morning, we wisely decided to call it a night.
On the way to the car, Rachel reached over and rubbed at my cheek, saying, "Oh, there's some of Craig's lipstick!" from where he had kissed me goodbye. Now, maybe it's just me, but isn't there something terribly wrong with that statement?!!
*Names have been changed to protect the traumatized.
So on Friday night 4 August, Dan (whom I hadn't seen in over 10 years), his wife Deirdre (it was her first time in Asia and I had never met her before), my friend Natalie and myself had happy hour drinks at a bar on the 72nd floor of one of the hotels. It has a fantastic view of the city and is very posh. Then we went for a delicious local dinner. Natalie kindly drove us around in her BMW so I think we were giving the newlyweds a rather civilized and positive impression of our country.
We got to my favourite Irish pub and many more friends arrived, including my flatmate Rachel. We were having a great time and I should have known it would go downhill when three big white guys walked in dressed as women. They had full make up on, painted nails and pantyhose. One was in a long orange dress, the second in a green mu-mu type number and the third was in a baby doll top and matching bloomer shorts. He had padded (though admittedly lumpy) breasts. On each large head was a scarf (babushka) that cleaning ladies in the UK wear.
Well, you could have heard a pin drop. Our entire table, in stunned silence, collectively eyeballed the three very ugly "women" walk across the bar to join their friends. To my growing horror, I realized that I actually knew one of them, whom I had spoken to a couple of times before. Craig is from the UK, has a shaved head, several huge tattoos and works in construction. Oh, and he's built like a brick sh*thouse.
Whereas I would normally go over and talk to them, I thought it wouldn't give Dan and Deirdre a very good impression so I played it cool and continued to sip my vodka cranberry. Unfortunately, Craig not only paints a mean fingernail, he also has very sharp eyesight. Not long afterwards, he slowly strutted over in our direction, causing me to panic but realizing too late that there was no place to hide. He stopped in front of our table, pointed at me and pursed his lips in a kiss. My friends burst out laughing and I was completely mortified. Seeing that the game was up, I gave in gracefully and introduced Britain's Finest to everyone and we all had a good laugh. At some point during the evening, the lead singer of the band got Dan and Deirdre to have a dance and I took some hilarious photos of the love birds in the foreground, and three men in drag slow dancing in the background.
Note to the double Ds: please send the pics to me so I can forward those on! Note to ex-husband: don't say that I don't show your friends a good time!
The newlyweds left shortly afterwards and it's a good thing that they did because the following then happened:
1. Craig and his friend Ken in the orange dress snogged. If you have never seen two men the size of tanks in full make up french kiss, take my word for it, you need a strong stomach.
2. The third "woman" in the babydoll top pulled down his bloomers. On the end of his pierced manhood (also known as a Prince Albert for all of you not in the know), hung his house keys. I SWEAR that this part is true, and I have my friends as fellow witnesses. Not only that, but he was so well hung that I am sure he could have opened his front door without taking the keys off his piercing.
Well, what can I say? This is NOT a typical night out with me. On that note, we decided to go over to another party nightspot also known as the four floors of wh*res. I mean, why not continue on the path we were obviously meant to walk that Friday night? We danced at up a storm and finally at one in the morning, we wisely decided to call it a night.
On the way to the car, Rachel reached over and rubbed at my cheek, saying, "Oh, there's some of Craig's lipstick!" from where he had kissed me goodbye. Now, maybe it's just me, but isn't there something terribly wrong with that statement?!!
*Names have been changed to protect the traumatized.
posted by SG Babe | 8:48 AM
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