A Mixed Nightout
Credits: http://www.cartoonstock.com/lowres/swa0226l.jpg
In a bid to do something different, Mr. P and I went to the a comedy show at the Punchline Comedy Club (ok technically it's actually a section of Duetto Restaurant). It was so racist, sexist, ageist and hilarious at the same time. Definitely for adults and people who has an advanced understanding of the English language.
After which we found ourselves back on Cougar Alley Wyndham Street in Tazmania Ballroom because 1) we've had enough of hanging out with Mr. P's bosses colleagues and 2) a friend is in town from London. The poolhall-and-club is relatively new and I think under the same management as Dragon-i (some sort of an IT club here though it is mostly filled with French arseholes banker-wankers and "models").
Therefore it has the same brawny bouncers / bitchy girl at the door, not enough toliet cubicles (2 is fucking not enough, the interior design team has obviously have never been to Zouk), insanely overpriced drinks, cougars, old gay men and CMI local girls. The best thing about the club is the balcony bit and the music wasn't half bad.
I like Happy (our friend) but I'm not putting up with his venue picks anymore. We were there because his friend is a typical banker wanker sort who is 35, looks 40, acts 21. His first words were, " I flew in on Wednesday and haven't slept since", a badge of honour. (Channelling Cher in Clueless) as if!
Grow the fuck up. He proceed to hit up anything that moved while pointing out (to me when nothing moved) other men desparately doing the same. I think I need a bloody Oscar for playing nice and not rolling my eyeballs till they fall out.
Our evening ended on a rather annoying note. Said gentleman had somehow signed and took Mr. P's credit card (partly wait staff's fault) with him when he left (we were talking to other mates) and then denied he took it when we first phoned Happy to check. What, in his oh-so-cool sleep deprived state he didn't realised it wasn't his card? In the middle of the night we had to phone up the directory service for the Amex number to cancel the bloody card*!
An hour after our first phone call to Happy followed by a text that we weren't kidding about the lost card, he finally came back and said "oh sorry it was in my pocket all this time." For fuck sakes, go get a life.
* I don't get this: why do CC companies print their phone numbers behind the CCs when the only time you truly need the number is when you've lost the card??