Wednesday, April 18, 2007


When it comes to cocktails, there are certain rules which must never be violated. Cosmopolitans must always have a bit of fog to them, making them tastefully translucent. Martinis should always be extra dry, extremely cold and come with no more or less than 3 olives. Campari should never be mixed with anything but good conversation or heavy flirting. Champagne glasses must never be allowed to empty and margaritas should always be served in huge quantities.

Tonight I went out for drinks and dinner with Pierre and Stephen. Now, my memory being what it is, I am not sure if it is Stephen with a “V” sound or Stephen with an “F” sound, but I will opt for the “F” sound as that is my personal preference – If I am wrong, I really don’t care, I will just pull a Madonna and do whatever I like, as anything else would be compromising my artistic integrity. It’s all very Liza with a “Z” and am considering making it a personal policy to use jazz hands whenever I say his name.

The night started innocently enough, cocktails in their fabulous flat in Vasant Vihar. I spent the entire gin and tonic (mixed with just enough tonic to flavor, yet not too much so as to soil the gin) plotting and planning ways to get them to move or perhaps evicted and leave the flat to me. Of course, I seasoned my conversation with the obligatory “uh-huh’s”, so they would not suspect my evil intentions, but deep down I was making seating arrangements for my first rooftop, starlight supper on my soon to be purchased Royal Doulton with the handpainted periwinkels. I have felt for some time that 2007 will see the re-emergence of the periwinkle as the must have flower in discriminating circles. When it happens, remember that you heard it here first.

Just as I was trying to figure out the best place for the Christmas tree, Pierre suggested we go out to eat. I have a feeling he was on to me and one glance with my third eye told me he will not give up the flat so easy. I will have to be more cunning and conniving. So what if they just finished decorating, that’s what our people do! We put on mix tapes of our favorite boy bands, mix some fruity vodka based drinks and replicate pictures in Wallpaper magazine. Who are we if we are not matching fabrics and textures over a well shaken concoction?

Anyway, off we went to TGI Friday’s. Normally I try never to be seen in the vicinity of so many red and white stripes, but the promise of margaritas by the bucket was just too much. I threw my values to the wind, ordered up a margarita and a chicken chimichanga. It’s a darn good thing I have been working out. Those margaritas were massive and absolutely yummy. At least I know now where to go when praying to the gods of tequila and lime. I wanted to get wasted away again in Margaritaville. I wanted to search for my lost shaker of salt. I wanted to scream to the waiter to “bring ‘em on and keep ‘em coming”, but being my first time out with S and P (or should it be P and S? Will have to give that a think as I like awake in my overheated room. ) I did not want them to see me as a mere lush. I was keeping up appearances and will save the more dodgy side of myself until the 28th when we go to a cocktail party for Queen’s Day. It was a great way to end an otherwise windy and dusty day.

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