Butterfly Goes Transmission

It’s been awhile since I’ve lost reservations on my misdemeanour but last night had just the right ingredients to concoct a brew, a subtle cocktail to welcome myself back to Assholism.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’ve been partying regularly, despite my lack of post and it’s become quite a routine that to write about every event would be raising the quotient of meritocracy in my literary library that you’ve been secretly guilty of indulging in. Last night had a little more to offer me..

1. Alcohol. Check.

It’s a mandatory field to please my otherwise restless disposition. I had quite a few courtesy of women. Cokewhore sponsored a Sambuca and Serena bought me a flaming lambo and 3 whiskey soda. Yvonne insisting I call her ‘Da Jie’ capped it off with Redbull. Yes, just Redbull. Neat, double stirred on the rocks.

2. Group. Check

At a last headcount, there were in excess of 30 people. We’re at MoS and I felt like we were at some highschool reunion. It also helps that a healthy number of them are shufflers, so the un-holy congregation of us would naturally result in a miniature rave circus with enough glowsticks to light up Orchard Road. If we only had rollerblades on, we would qualify for Ching-gay.

And yes, someone would always be guilty of throwing talcum powder.

3. Girls. Check

Serena was absolutely generous with her cleavage.

She: “Go to Smoove with me..”
Me: “I’m having a decent conversation with your boobs, do not disturb me.”

4. Trannies. Check

Some guy thought two chicks were hot until I pointed out to him that they were in fact men.

Guy: “She’s hot!”
Me: “Chew’ mean HEEEEEE’S hawt.”

I was already into my speech slurring state, sustained indefinitely by bass and euphoric rhythm built up.

Guy: “No FUCKING way.”
Me: “Yes waayy fuckin’… hawt girls dounch dance like ‘em..”

Some of them egged me to pick them up. This is a stroll in the park for me. It’s like winning a table-tennis match against limb amputees or playing soccer with apodia kids. I never need to pick them up. I make them pick me up.

I stood right below ‘her’ and worked alittle charm and ‘she’ took the bait instantly. I think I probably made ‘her’ climax just by conversing with ‘her’ in Thai.

Me: “Now watch.. I’ll get them to make me squeeze their boobs.”

I turned to one of them and accused her of being a transsexual. She started a vehement protest and coupled with indignation over my refusal to believe, it eventually drove ‘her’ to force my hand to her chest to cop a feel.

That was easy.

4. Nira. Check.

I think I saw she girl who was on the cover page of Maxim a few months back. The one in the red bikini who’s Thai. She’s hot and I want her.

5. Side Shows. Check.

Muthu was cracking everyone up big time with his attempts on successfully accomplishing a front flip. He was drunk and there was a risk of breaking his neck. What do the rest of us do under the intemperance of juice?

We cheer him on.

Cokewhore had a Hong Kong stunt man friend who was in town for the Ren Chi Charity crap and I started cheering for the professional to show how it should be done. He did one flip off the couch and another one of those one handed cartwheels I used to do when I was 7 and playing Zero-point, and he slipped backwards onto table and nearly took out one of our vodka supplies.

6. R.O.C.K ROCK. Check.

Me: “Name of movie titles that can pass off as PORN movie titles.”

These were the few that cracked the others up.

“Enter the Dragon.”
“Fist of Fury”
“The Whole 10 Yards”
“Free Willy”
“8mm”
“Anaconda”
“12 Inch”

7. Music. Check.

There’s only one way I like music served to me. Hard.

It was a pretty decent Trance set with timely injections of Tiesto to keep the hype going. While it wasn’t awe inspiring, it was good enough to keep Reznor till the lights came on.

8. The Zouk lapdance chick. Check

Some girl I was looking at suddenly came up to me. For a moment I thought I had activated my superpowers on mind control and she was complying to my deepest desires. She knew my name and I had no fucking clue who she was until she re-introduced herself.

She: “Hey, I’m getting married..”
Me: “Pity.. and that means I can’t fuck you huh?”

She giggled and if she wasn’t so well adapted to cockteasers like me, she’d probably have blushed or given me two masterhand slaps across the cheeks. I don’t remember faces well, not even if you had me put my hand under your skirt.

Edit: well you can do my ladyboy test and see if you're any better than the guy was. HERE.