It is always a mistake to go out with your sis and her BF, eventhough they insist they will belanja makan, or that the other guys would be joining later and so on. But food has always been a weakness on my part, hence another day I succumbed to temptation.
Twas Sunday night and the plan was to catch PH's Sunday Night Live with Dayang Nurfaizah (DNF). And oh, there's Hazami (H) and Reshmonu (R) too. This overlook was intentional, as in my honest opinion most of the people that came down to the club wanted to see DNF, a bit wanted to see H and a number was curious about R.
The night started out fine when DNF, H, and R finally joined the band - comprising of Acis, Jamie Wilson, Kelly and Zaibo plus a couple of back up singer - at 10.45PM. Now the thingy started late already, but it would have ended sooner should R just keep singing and stop trying to impress the crowd with his MCCing talent(less) and bad-sounding English.
Really, the only part I got from R's rants was "KL make some noiiizzee!!!" and apart from that I only heard enough to conclude that he must be related to Chewbacca. But his awful slang and lousy overzealous stage control were not enough to make me post this bitching blog.
It was also his I-think-I'm-sexy ogling too. He was trying to get fresh with DNF, albeit jokingly, twas horrendous. DNF had to literally push him off the stage before she can get her song done.
And boy does R babble a lot - I think it was something about his album being onsale for only RM3 for that night and the proceeds will be forwarded to charity or something like that, etcetera, whatevera. Bolehwood's Ambrosia Lala aka Ribena Berry's words echoed in my mind.. "Give an Indian a mic aaa... and.." Twas true! Every time R got the mic, a compulsory (on his account) 5-minutes babble session triggers, deriving a lot of "Oy! Just sing lah!" hollars from the audience.
H too had to shoo off R - and unfortunately he did it in his own way. H got down to his dance routine (note: cringe here) and jiggled his little self off-beatly. I wonder how he could sing just fine but his body can't move accordingly. Or was that intentional?
But though I was trapped in a threesome for quite some time before the others who were supposed to join us joined us, facing the minus-Reshmonu-everything-was-fine performance on stage, the night was not all bad.
There at the big screen, an oh-so-Malay looking tall guy with a forgiveable goatie clad in a pressie red and white sweater and a beanie snowcap atop his head was leaning, trying to enjoy the show and the Aston Villa match at the same time.
He was wearing a very arrogant look on his face - if he was not good-looking you'd think that he's so sombong - but since he was, he looked very, very attractive indeed. Guess it's true gals, what seems unobtainable is more appealing than what comes easily to your plams.
And I happen to be facing the screen at a very comfortable angle. But with my sis busy on the other end of the table, I did not have the luxury to point out the cute guy for group observation. (Later my sis told me that the guy was a regular and she did spoke to him and his gang a couple of nights before!)
But what can a girl do? Talk to him? Yeah right! Don't have that much courage, nor did I have a good pick-up line. Smile at him first? No way, he was looking aloof and oh-so-sombong remember? Stare? Yep! Well, he was leaning near the big screen so it's OK to stare at his direction and pretend he's so not there.
Did that work? Hell no!
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