Some Men Just Can't Hold Their Arsenic!

"I'm beginning to believe in liposuction," I lean over and whisper to Nits.

"I always have," she replies.

The models continue sashaying with languid arrogance in what passes off as a catwalk in this ballroom. Turn this way. Turn that. So you see the contours of their impossibly tall slim bodies, their sucked-on cheeks, their exaggerated eyelashes that look like nothing so much as cockroaches. Modelling local designers. I lean back in my seat and feel myself wanting to huddle and fend it off.

We're at the Supremes concert. Rubbing shoulders with the glitterati of KL. Thing about Malaysian glitterati, they tend to glitter. All that ice and spangles.

Then the ex-Supremes come on - and they are beautiful ladies, so confident, so larger-than-life, that I stop writing the feminist essay about decorative bodies in my head. (An exploding frangipani? A blade of grass? Which would you rather lie next to?)

We leave before the end when the Queen (of Malaysia not England) goes up to present something or make some speech or whatever. We've gotten what we came for.

And on the way down we bump into the serial SMS-er. Except that he is bearded now, and looking so diminished that I don't recognise him. Nits does. He watches us and when he sees we are going to pass by without saying hello, asks in a hurt puppy dog sort of way:

"Aren't you even gonna say hi?"

That's when we realise that it IS him. But I must say, it's rich to appear so aggrieved considering how rude he was. Never mind. Bygones. Not interested in more drama. We say hi. He tells Anita that I made him remove me from Facebook (except that I beat him to it, and removed him first. And blocked him)and he doesn't even have my number to say hi. Funny thing is, my primary emotion is boredom. I really need to go to the bathroom and I wonder how long we're gonna have to stand there making polite small talk. We move away. Discuss it a bit but we have better things to talk about. Proceed after to Vintage to have a couple of drinks and a nasi lemak (the beef varuval was to die for) and we notice the now-bearded serial SMS-er making his way slowly through the lounge, to see where we're sitting.

"There's something seriously wrong with himlar. Was he always weird or is it that this is the first time I'm seeing him in the light?"

It's tomorrow and I've just parked at Istana Budaya. Mary and I scored free tickets (off Anita) to go watch Chicago. The good thing is, we arrived an hour early. Congratulating each other and patting each other's back on making such good time, despite the notorious Tun Razak jams, we wander around trying to find posters of Chicago. Thing is, there don't seem to be any. Only Peter Pan. We are mystified.

Then Mary suggests I look at the tickets. I do. Chicago is playing at the KL Convention Centre. I don't know how to get there from here. Except that I gotta get there fast.

Gone is the blissful smugness of having arrived early. We leap into the car and take off. I get lost and find myself driving towards the hills. At this rate we'll be in Ipoh in a couple of hours. Mary, beside me, laughing so hard I think she's gonna bust a gut.

I do a U-ey and turn back. There I see the Twin Towers set out before me. I just need to keep driving in that general direction and we will get there. Somehow. We do with 15 minutes to spare. Park in the wrong carpark but that's OK. You're not gonna be finicky about things like that when you're so horribly late.

We scramble into the KL Convention Centre and try to find the Plenary Hall. The map says it's on first floor. We get into the lift which kindly informs that Plenary Hall is on groundfloor. To hell with it. We just follow every sign that says Plenary Hall and eventually we get there. Seated and breathless, we realise that we're up in the rafters. The free tickets were RM100 each. But apparently RM100 doesn't go far when it comes to Chicago.

It was very entertaining (although I did nod off briefly from not having slept properly the night before) but from where we were, the faces were white blobs, we couldn't make out features.

And tonight there's a dinner to attend in about two hours. I can't believe I'm out three nights in a row. What a change from my usual lepaking existence. And on Monday, Mark's playing at Backyard. I know I said I wouldn't go back there but come one, it's been a whole week!

I don't feel like working.

Make that: I really really don't feel like working.