The Black Sky Danced With Stars

Jury duty was such a bore. I mean, after the 1.75 hour lunch break, I thought that it was pretty cool. 'I could get into this...' Reading my book, 'The Jesus Man' (really hot, with enough homo content to tease) and listening to my i-Pod (Christina's 'Hurt' & Janet's 'So Excited') was a great break from the dredge of work. Sitting in the pool room, it was funny to see the way people, who didn't know each other, form groups, very similar to what happens at school. The first group to form was the jock group, the jock Anglos and the jock Wogs, who took over the pool table that was missing the 8 ball. There were the older housewives that sat together reading their Women's Day's and their Danielle Steele novels. The establised intellectuals who read Business Weekly's and Economic magazines. The corporate ladder climbers who sat facing the walls with their laptops plugged in, wearing their power suits. The retirees who sit around the tables talking to each... Perhaps about lawn bowls or shuffle board... Who knows. Then there's me, the retail whore slumped in the sofa chair, anti-social, listening to music, with his head buried in a book. When did I become so solitary? And when did the world become so isolated?

Tonight we went to The Lexington for some fashion launch. Drain drain drain. We waited for the hip-hop to start in the next room, and as they set up, the DJ made me lose every ounce of faith I had in him. What's with the Jamaican tracks? And the useless sample of Amerie's 'One Thing'. I was ready to scream. Anyway...



Imma, Paulina and I went decked out in hip-hop outfits, ready to break up the floor. We walked into the Lexington, and after two minutes, the girls were back in the car, changing into something a little more glamorous. I, on the other hand, just removed my ghetto Tiger cap and stayed in the same outfit. I realised that I didn't give a fuck if I was dressed in my jeans and t-shirt with sneakers. Please, people have seen us dressed up before, and we can dress up, and I can't be fucked going to all that trouble for a show at which I have no idea what is going on. So they can just get over it.




So after the poxy house, and all the footy jocks had wandered out, we headed to the Hip-hop room. The music was pretty shite. But as soon as Kelis' 'Bossy' came on, Imma and I jumped straight up there. We were the first dancing. It was onesixone all over again. Except this time, the Lexington back room was filled with hot Asians. All from Federal Coffee. Pez. Drool. Paulina managed to successfully pull off the skanky Asian female r'n'b dancing. The small sway, the arm movements, the sneaky glances. It was hilarious. But it didn't last, so we left. Bore. But the company was good. So we had fun.

I received the most gorgeous goodnight message from Bradley J. How lucky am I? And how stunning is this boy? I can't let go. As Jimmy says, 'I'm drowning'. Minutes pass by that you've been away, but it feels like a million days.

PunkOnAir : Keith Urban - Making Memories Of Us