My most fabulicious dominatrix friend and her darling husband came back to have her birthday celebrations in Hong Kong. The date was penciled onto my social calendar as it was guaranteed to be a HAWT mess. Yes, she is a fierce mistress, like Tia Carrere on “Nip/Tuck,” and she had more or less monopolized the HK market whilst she was living here. She just loves our city. I mean, she got married in Hong Kong. Twice. I don’t remember where I met her, either white-minimalist Drop or dirty-old Homebase, but she was so maximalista and fucking ferosh with her razor-sharp wit and stunning wardrobe (corsets, stilettos) that she intimidated the bejeezus out of the early twenties version of me.
She also used to have a regular column that was really a major inspiration for my rendering of Nightlife, so thank you luv. She is pure wickedness, and a fascinating maelstrom of melodrama follows her wherever she goes, but she's the most straightforward and loving lady there is. None of that passive aggressive bullshit that colors most people’s minds and actions. That’s because her job allows her to let all the stress out. Most people accumulate stress at work, getting whipped by their bosses and office politics, and she whips people for a living. Literally.
I remember her sitting in a bar in LKF. A banker/lawyer type in a suit, who was obviously having power mandrinks with his male colleagues, saw his Mistress. He approached timidly and whispered something into her ear. She rolled her eyes and snarled, “Dismissed.” and the guy shuffled away in meek submission. Die!
Anyway, we started at Eden for drinks and cake, and inevitably ended up at Home Base at God knows what hour. Which then meant Flying Pan, where healthy Standard Chartered marathon people started coming in to have breakfast after the 10km run. It filled us with disgust and loathing. At ourselves, aight? The self-loathing type of loathing.
And speaking of loathing, the chipmunk edition of Sean Kingston’s song “Suicidal” came on over the speakers. It’s already the most annoying pop song hands down (Editorial agrees) and I do not know why some sadistic fuck had to go and produce a “cute” Chipmunk version of it. Hearing it at eight in the morning almost made me spit out my tomato juice, and I had to call upon the full force of my moral code to not throw my plate of ranchero eggs mucho across the room. The way the boy sings it, “soowisah~doh soowisah~doh...” IT DRIVES ME SUICIDAL! I just find it an incredibly idiotic song. The melody, the beats, the voice, all border on the retarded. Ugh.
Fans who want to be narcotized by mindless doo-wop crap will probably line up at M1NT on Thursday for a peek at the solid singer. I'm not going because I'll scream “BPSTFU!” and his big black burly bodyguards will pummel me to near-death. And then throw me out.