Ok. Simple tuxedo, no tie. Doin this one at Paris Cat.
Norwegian Wood is sitting at the front right table accompanied by a narrow chested Indie-fag who matches her shoes, beige.
The skinny redhead at the front table the opposite side of the room is the one I called The Match, because we were so perfectly unsuited. Turns out she finally did meet a Sylvester and is seated with him. She's lightly pregnant. I notice them before I take the stage and have Agathe deliver her a mocktail and him two Martinis. (She'll neck at least one of them and then probably try to have foot sex with him under the table. Healthy lass.)
Some chick called Sambada is on keys because Rachel Rekjavik isn't speaking to me. AJ on bass. Just a snare and brushes for Blah - nice of him to turn up. We could do a few drinks afterwards but Yoko will want him home. Everybody else hates her but I'm glad she came back.
I like the band to tune dramatically before I step up. I don't want anybody thinking I'm not a *smile*. This makes it clear.
I order generver on ice from the stage. Agathe looks up from serving Sylvester and nods. I nod at Sambada who plumps a few tentative fills.
I say "The God of the Hearth and I were frocking up for some country ball. His missus, The Fascinator, was playing make-over with other missuses up the road. The God of the Hearth is a true Bohemian, a security guard, who by then was an emerging sculptor, widely disparaged but sometimes admired (not least of all by me) for his roughly hewn, somewhat cobbled forms.
He had a new secondhand mohair tuxedo and when he emerged from the hut in it I fully remembered that his parents were a Vogue photographer and that man's favourite model. I resumed tying my tie in the outdoor kitchen mirror and said 'You know, God, you are so hot in that tuxedo you don't have to ask your sheila for a threesome tonight - you can demand one.'
We picked up the girls and on the way I had a side bet with the Fascinator that I would *special friend* a dangerous brunette in the cloakroom simply by being a complete *smile*. The promise of her ten dollars made me salivate.
When we got to the ball I didn't like any of the brunettes so I danced with Fasc, gave her ten dollars and then proceeded with he God to the bar where we drank a blend of cognac and ferret *smile*. The Fasc was dancing with some ladies not far away, maybe seven metres.
A strawberry blond appeared and joined their group. From the rear she was tall and strong but comely.
I said to The God 'Jesus, brother it's on. You're about to get your threesome.'
He looked at me like I was insane but I urged him again 'Let's go. It's on here. The strawb is about to kiss your missus.'
'Nah.'
'You need to be in front for this. Do you mind if I look over your shoulder?'
The strawb danced closer to the Fasc. The God got interested. Moved in a little. I moved left to see the hips and know for sure which way the strawb would move. She gave us a little side view. Rich of tit. Lean of waist above a royal belly.
Closer again. Strawb's hands on Fasc's hips then bang. She kissed her deep.
Fascinator bolted. The God followed her out the door and the strawb-blond disappeared.
I stared at the space they left for a minute. My lower lip glib and my eyebrows delighted. Then I went back to the bar.
There was the strawb. I could finally see her face, cheeks ablaze, lashes low and then skyward.
I said 'I didn't recognise you. You look a million dollars.'
She said 'Not like last time you saw me.'
I said 'Sometimes nine hundred thousand, sometimes a million. Nice dye job.'
She said 'It's who I used to be.'
It was the second time I met Norwegian Wood."
Then I point at the ceiling so AJ can see it. Blah and he chime in all rhythm like and I start -
I get along without you very well
Of course, I do
Except when soft rains fall
And drip from leaves
Then I recall
The thrill of being sheltered in your arms
Of course, I do
But I get along without you very well
I've forgotten you just like I should
Of course, I have
Except to hear your name
Or someone's laugh that is the same
But I've forgotten you just like I should
What a guy
What a fool am I
To think my breaking heart
Could kid the moon
What's in store
Should I phone once more
No, it's best that I stick to my tune
I get along without you very well
Of course, I do
Except perhaps in Spring
But I should never think of Spring
For that would surely break my heart in two
What's in store
Should I phone once more
No, it's best that I stick to my tune
I get along without you very well
Of course, I do
Except perhaps in Spring
But I should never think of Spring
For that would surely break my heart in two
[youtube=560,315]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IgbPHTBiAVQ[/youtube]
Some time during the set Norwegian Wood and the Indie fag storm out. A couple of songs later she returns. After the set I call Agathe to bring two drinks - Scotch and Montenegro. The Match waves as her major Sylvester leads her out by the hand.
Then I stand and take my spare drink to Sambada.
Norwegian Wood is sitting at the front right table accompanied by a narrow chested Indie-fag who matches her shoes, beige.
The skinny redhead at the front table the opposite side of the room is the one I called The Match, because we were so perfectly unsuited. Turns out she finally did meet a Sylvester and is seated with him. She's lightly pregnant. I notice them before I take the stage and have Agathe deliver her a mocktail and him two Martinis. (She'll neck at least one of them and then probably try to have foot sex with him under the table. Healthy lass.)
Some chick called Sambada is on keys because Rachel Rekjavik isn't speaking to me. AJ on bass. Just a snare and brushes for Blah - nice of him to turn up. We could do a few drinks afterwards but Yoko will want him home. Everybody else hates her but I'm glad she came back.
I like the band to tune dramatically before I step up. I don't want anybody thinking I'm not a *smile*. This makes it clear.
I order generver on ice from the stage. Agathe looks up from serving Sylvester and nods. I nod at Sambada who plumps a few tentative fills.
I say "The God of the Hearth and I were frocking up for some country ball. His missus, The Fascinator, was playing make-over with other missuses up the road. The God of the Hearth is a true Bohemian, a security guard, who by then was an emerging sculptor, widely disparaged but sometimes admired (not least of all by me) for his roughly hewn, somewhat cobbled forms.
He had a new secondhand mohair tuxedo and when he emerged from the hut in it I fully remembered that his parents were a Vogue photographer and that man's favourite model. I resumed tying my tie in the outdoor kitchen mirror and said 'You know, God, you are so hot in that tuxedo you don't have to ask your sheila for a threesome tonight - you can demand one.'
We picked up the girls and on the way I had a side bet with the Fascinator that I would *special friend* a dangerous brunette in the cloakroom simply by being a complete *smile*. The promise of her ten dollars made me salivate.
When we got to the ball I didn't like any of the brunettes so I danced with Fasc, gave her ten dollars and then proceeded with he God to the bar where we drank a blend of cognac and ferret *smile*. The Fasc was dancing with some ladies not far away, maybe seven metres.
A strawberry blond appeared and joined their group. From the rear she was tall and strong but comely.
I said to The God 'Jesus, brother it's on. You're about to get your threesome.'
He looked at me like I was insane but I urged him again 'Let's go. It's on here. The strawb is about to kiss your missus.'
'Nah.'
'You need to be in front for this. Do you mind if I look over your shoulder?'
The strawb danced closer to the Fasc. The God got interested. Moved in a little. I moved left to see the hips and know for sure which way the strawb would move. She gave us a little side view. Rich of tit. Lean of waist above a royal belly.
Closer again. Strawb's hands on Fasc's hips then bang. She kissed her deep.
Fascinator bolted. The God followed her out the door and the strawb-blond disappeared.
I stared at the space they left for a minute. My lower lip glib and my eyebrows delighted. Then I went back to the bar.
There was the strawb. I could finally see her face, cheeks ablaze, lashes low and then skyward.
I said 'I didn't recognise you. You look a million dollars.'
She said 'Not like last time you saw me.'
I said 'Sometimes nine hundred thousand, sometimes a million. Nice dye job.'
She said 'It's who I used to be.'
It was the second time I met Norwegian Wood."
Then I point at the ceiling so AJ can see it. Blah and he chime in all rhythm like and I start -
I get along without you very well
Of course, I do
Except when soft rains fall
And drip from leaves
Then I recall
The thrill of being sheltered in your arms
Of course, I do
But I get along without you very well
I've forgotten you just like I should
Of course, I have
Except to hear your name
Or someone's laugh that is the same
But I've forgotten you just like I should
What a guy
What a fool am I
To think my breaking heart
Could kid the moon
What's in store
Should I phone once more
No, it's best that I stick to my tune
I get along without you very well
Of course, I do
Except perhaps in Spring
But I should never think of Spring
For that would surely break my heart in two
What's in store
Should I phone once more
No, it's best that I stick to my tune
I get along without you very well
Of course, I do
Except perhaps in Spring
But I should never think of Spring
For that would surely break my heart in two
[youtube=560,315]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IgbPHTBiAVQ[/youtube]
Some time during the set Norwegian Wood and the Indie fag storm out. A couple of songs later she returns. After the set I call Agathe to bring two drinks - Scotch and Montenegro. The Match waves as her major Sylvester leads her out by the hand.
Then I stand and take my spare drink to Sambada.
