ThinkaThought

It was by coincidence that my drink ended up pink… I couldnt help getting a tad feisty. The bar man was out of Martin Bianco. I mean wtf?…How can one drink vodka martini without martini.. my night was ruined.. seriously… Im not over dramatising the point here… No alcohol in Gozo on a Friday night is a dangerous mix for me. I may as well had stayed at home. After making a couple of weird faces at the barman… he suggested I give the martini rosso a go.. I ponder a bit knowing that the rosso is much sweeter and doesnt have that sharp cutty taste like the bianco…. but in order of not being called a martini racist I decided to give it a go. He served me a pink drink… there I was standing at the bar in my skinny jeans, tshirt and pink drink in hand – had I had a large handbag and a dog in it I would have been something not too far off from Paris hilton (except Im not blonde, dumb or rich) Ok – forget that reference point.

Anyway back to my story. So the pink martini rosso’s were ok and as the night went on they just kept on coming…. until one fine glass came in front of me with a pink straw and a pink flamingo on it. In all fairness it looked kinda pretty.. sitting there between the pink illuminated ice cubes  just hanging out over the lip of my glass. Totally amused with my flamingo i picked it up twirlled it around put it back in my glass and then all of a sudden my flamingo had two heads. Now in most cases  I hold my liquer well so I knew that I wasnt drunk, but how the hell did my flamingo get two heads.?  It seemed that my flamingo had gotten drunk not me.. it decided to go for a dip in my drink.. as its frilly puffed body dipped into my drink, it slowly started to disintegrate; its body becoming less fluffy by the minute. Had my flamingo died or had I killed it? As I pulled my the flamingo out of my glass saving it from a sad drowing death.. I placed it on the table… saturated to the core it built its grave on the table.. surround by bunnies and unnies ( will explain this later) Along came the next glass with another beautiful flamingo in it… a few minutes later another one… I was being invaded by flamingos and so grew my hate for their pink fluffy gayness. As each and every one of them slowly died in my martini glass… i became happier. I decided that killing the flamingos was actually more fun that watching them float around in my glass. So I got creative. Now I was letting them drown and would compliment the torture by stabbing them with my stileto before putting them in the bunny and unny graveyard. It made my night and btw I hate flamingos and to be more specific pink drinks.

Once I was hanging out with my older male cousin who as always been a great writer.. I was 16 he was twenty something anyway he was explaining a poem that he had just written; the way the words flowed mesmerize me. His poem evoked emotions, I could empathis even though I had obviously not shared the experiences that inspired this poem. The way his words flowed simply addicted me to his prose, made me conscious of who he was and the plan ugly of life sometimes. He had always been the cool cousin, I mean he introduced me to Led Zeppelin.. but he wasn’t the cousin who bought me cigarettes he was the cousin who inspired me intellectually and brought light to the realities of life.

Back to this poem … I cant remember exactly the title of this poem but it had one phrase in it that I will never in my whole life forget… ‘Shaded eyes tell you nothing’. Over the years I have thought and thought about what he meant by this and  time and time again I simply deduced that it had something to do with bodily image and possibly fake people. Today in my life as a ‘mature’ erm 25 year old, the phrase is still ringing in my head, the thought angers me and finally I can seriously related to this…

What does make up… dresses.. and the whole body glorification tell you?  *^&@ all! Girls can be total posing attention seeking bitches… as much as I hate to say it – girls will pose and pretend and an investment to some girls is a new dress which is secretly a weapon they will use to sponge drinks off some idiot who takes the bait. That said… some guys arent much better… and yes they deserve it. Image evokes a perception to me a perception is based on ‘ideals’ that are created by social norms. Screw society, screw its norms. Image tells you nothing about a person. Image creates awkwardness, unease to those who don’t conform, it cause bulimia and stigma. As I age I realise that stigma is something I can totally deal with but who are you to judge me on my image.. shaded eyes or not.

I would like to dedicate this post to the priest who asked me if I had issues when I dyed my hair blue, and to the boyfriend I had who told me I was a dark and bad person because i hid behind dark sunglasses and made me read the bible… “I am what I am”  I do not hide who I am… I dont want to be judge by my appearance, my looks are part of who I am but then again they dont make me who I am. My body is not like a super model because yes other ex-boyfriend you guessed Im not a bloody supermodel. Can you see my brain? It doesnt look pretty but it works and so far seems to be a pretty good one!

So I thank my couz for a valuable lesson that I should have learned a long time ago now… we are surrounded by posers, image conscious empty freaks, people who hide behind socially acceptable images, and people who think that materialism is the only way in life. Really… shaded eyes.. tell you nothing!

Never thought Id say this but out of all places to see those Calvin Klein male model  bods… but in Primark London.  No there was no fashion show here but holy moley check em out, I had to go back the next day

So WHERE you ask:  Primark at Marble Arch, London, Second floor, mens department, any random corner… best on Sundays. Talk about yummy eye candy!

Primark being the pinnacle of ‘cheap stuff is sold here’, everyone is there and it seems to get even more populated on a Sunday, which obviously means longer queues to the changing rooms which means:  shirts off, boxers on parade and obviously HURRAY lots of guys trying on shirts every where. YAJ.

So forget night clubs, glossy mags and get down to Primark now… or later it’s ok. Just go