Milky Mango Virgins 

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

Don't you just hate it when you proclaim out loud, without thinking, that you have some personality deficiency and then people around you agree? There's no way to suck in your words, which were not meant for public consumption nor for eliciting affirmations to their veracity. Someone rolled their eyes (I could feel it even if I was on the phone) and yelped out "aye!" when I pondered if I was a workaholic.

Even though I fully agree with his assessment, I am also irritated because that means I am an official bore. I hate it when someone dares not be interested in my petty life. I guess this means my second piece of Maktaaq hate mail ("you are so boring no wonder the Arabs want to kill white people") was also fully correct in its take on my dull, insignificant life.

So, to show that I can talk about other things, I shall talk about perverted cocktails. The new Guu has plenty of them on the menu. There is a whole set of Milky Virgins on the drink menu. I leaned over and whispered to my tablemate that mango sounds like vagina in Japanese. That made Milky Mango Virgin even more thigh-slappingly hilarious.

See, I can so talk about non-work.

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