COCKYBOXone track mind

Hello! Ladies and gentlemen, I will be the connoisseur for the evening. Now, now, please calm down. Settle down in your seats. Please. Kindly turn your satellite and Vertu phones in slumber mode. Wine will be served shortly at your table. Non-drinkers, do not worry; we have prepared a special recipe for your indulgence. A mix of chicken and sushi, from the clearest waters – right down from the islands near Hong Kong, topped with lemon and coriander.

“Voila!” Our chef told us, but we beg of you to leave it at that. No self-respecting man or woman can risk the idea of arousal in public.

Oh! By the way, I didn’t mention that it’s the Viagra of all dishes, did I? But I suppose, a fine person like you doesn’t mind getting naughty. Food is considered to be one highly volatile aphrodisiac. I consider it to be quiet imaginative and exclusive – for renewing your otherwise boring routine. A little rubdown of ice – after – can show your mate blue stars in the morning twilight.

Aroused? Not yet. Are you sure? No. Ok, I believe you. What if I gave you details? Would you change your mind then? Yes! Did I just see your eyes open an mm wider? And while your lips are tightly held back but murmur that ‘yes?’ Hey! It’s good enough for me. I know you could use the action. After all, we all want it in the first place.

You sir! Yes you, in the back! Please switch your phone off. We don’t care if Martha Stewart is on the line. Switch it off or kindly step outside.

By a raise of hands, presently, how many off you have invested in stocks? Kindly raise your hands so I can see them. Now, please look over both shoulders. Do you see where this is going? Ok you can bring your hands down now. So everyone here has invested their hard-earned money or the not so hard-earned into shares, equity, bonds and etc, etc.

Excuse me! Pardon. Madam, I don’t understand. Would you kindly come up here? I can hardly here your voice. Lets share what you have to say with everyone. Right up this way. Yes, that’s it. Welcome! You are?

“Bandova, Mrs. Bandova”. Ladies and gentlemen here is Mrs. Bandova.

Applaud.

Mrs. Bandova, what is it you wish to share with everyone?
“I would like to know about that ice. My husband talks of stocks all day.”

Can you hear the hooting and cheering? Now that’s the power of ice. You see the glass in front of you, the one with the three thousand dollar scotch in it. Yes that one. Put some ice into it, if you already haven’t. I certainly fancy it on the rocks, no adulteration and hedonistic in nature.

Only the other day I was at a party, close friends and some new people. These new people certainly had a few distinct ways of taking their shots. Milk would be one of the ingredient, a few had the idea of mixing vodka with watermelon, topped with snake poison, the lethal kinds. If only I could get my hands on the JD, I would be blissful in my own world. Shot after shot the men settled down in the large couches – the Italian leather ones, imported by the gentleman who organised the party, in his private Boing 777 – sobering down. Only later to start sessions of their overtly expensive first class trips around the world and their worldly babe conquests.

What did get my attention was the lioness in green. As I finished my last drink, I gathered up the courage to go speak with her. I navigated myself across a room filled with statues and furniture, hand crafted by slaves of Africa. Ok, Ok. I was making that last part up. Moving on now. As I skim across slowly, trying to avoid stepping on any of the six Chihuahuas. As I got closer to my prize, it seemed to get better and better. Ny now, my focus got sharper, the lines and curves got bolder. Every square inch was formidable. Her hair – long but trimmed at the front. High cheekbones and a flattering devil’s smile, complementing the Greek-Goddess voluptuousness. She had the body of a tigress; every square inch was pure muscle, and skin glowing like fresh apples from Swiss.

So I approached her. She noticed my movement. A smile of confirmation from her gave me confidence. I arrived in close proximity, all the women around her turned around as if expecting me to say something. This was putting me on the stage, the limelight. Did I mention – I picked up a bucket of ice while I was walking along? Yes! That’s right, a big bucket of ice. I looked at the ladies and gave them my I-have-come-prepared grin. I held up the bucket of ice and said, “Would you ladies like some ice on those cock-tails”. It was amazing, almost like throwing meat in front of hungry sharks. They jumped at it, one by one all iced up. I took this moment to excavate the green lady out of the rigmarole.

As we safari through the room towards a bedroom upstairs, she teasingly says “Don’t leave the ice.” This piece will not be printed further due to censorship issues.

When was the last time you faked it? Oh! It was yesterday only.

Yea right!

Don’t lie to yourself.

Please! Or, was it the other day after dinner, at home?

No, no, no.

It was a few hours earlier with your spouse, when you were trying to slip under your parents nose. It’s not so much fun though. It seems to be the only thing on our minds but the truth is; most of it is only in the mind, where the thoughts stay and slowly rust, till they decay and grow molecular bacteria. You have tried complaining several times but only if the human at the other side could understand your grief.

It’s slavery to a system of mundane rituals, performed to please your needs. Only temporary though; nothing long lasting or savouring.

One thing is certain from this entire hullabaloo; that the big “O”, the cellular “Operators”, never listen to your complaint. They will give you the run around, making sure you don’t escape the drudges of uncannily ridiculous game of cat and mouse. “No sir”, “yes sir” and a “thank you sir” will end your call.

However, The long distance service you require while sitting far away from home; well that won’t work. Only the call with the “O” will. Rubbish isn’t it.

Off and on these companies have taken the media space by storm, bombarding you with emotional melodrama of boys playing soccer or even daughters tuning into the bell at the temple. Pompous claims of network as far as the corner of the earth ooze out of every 30 seconds melodrama.

How silly.

What will one do with such signal strength? That too, half-way around the world. All we really need is a nice un-interrupted conversation with our girlfriends. During the night, sitting inside the closet or in the bathroom and sometimes even under the bed; all we wonder is, why do they show those half-baked commercials of people having signals on the peaks of mountains?

And here, you sit with zero signal strength, having your girl waiting at the other end.

I guess these big “O” people are fooling us and faking the entire episode of butter glazed, sugary, laced with maple syrup communication. I suggest that for a change, they put their sugar-lazed doughnuts up where the moon shines. To see something in context to public having the glory in the vicinity of their home would certainly be down right amusing.

Run along now, shows over.