A European, a China man, an Indian, a Somali and a Kenyan walk into a bar…

…find music playing and a-dancing they would go. Or so they thought.

European: Just 10 seconds is all I ask. 10 seconds so I can enter into this junguz head (not the one at kachoi or the one at buffet park) to see, or hear, what the HELL he was dancing to. It wasn’t the drum beat, or the bass guitar. It sure as hell wasn’t the lyrics, or at least, the cacophony.

China man: Tell me Mr Shaolin (ex shaolin at that) what were you doing? This guy was dancing slow-motion (to a fast track). His hands were apart and he was swaying aka floating, plus pulling the matrix moves of dodging bullets but he wain’t dodging jack. He was crouching like a tiger, at times holding his hidden dragon.

Indian: Haiya, now this guy was a classic. Vot vas he thinking yeah? He voz dancing like he voz boxing in some rat ready to kill it only. In this case the rat was his ‘chick’. He was moving his ‘kushoto na kulia’ hands ‘mbele na nyuma’ not letting the chick move left or right. Then of course he began sweating. Aaaand what does this MF decide to do? Remove his F shirt. LORD! Even the bouncer had to prod him with a long stick coz of the STINK! Dandora garbage site has nothing on him. He was a weapon of mass stink.

Somali: Dancing in the shower is allowed but please, please, PLEASE no ‘showering’ on the dance floor. The chick should have told him to leave the self-exploration, self-cleaning to when in shower. But he was dancing alone. No points for guessing why.

Kenyan: Now the Kenyan, dear ol’ Kenyan male. Now honestly, I agree with ladies, Kenyan men are the worst dancers especially when drunk. Picture this, there was his chick who had nice, er, ‘goods’ and she was dancing like she’s straight off a Lil John video (YEEEEAAAAH!) Man, she was shaking it like a salt shaker, but our Kenyan guy (like many I know…don’t usually know myself when drunk so I’m not here) kept pulling her behind to his crotch area and simulating a ‘doggy-style’, hence messing with her un-choreographed moves. And spoiling entertainment for use ‘alone’ dudes. “Dude, she can dance, you can’t.” Yo, move get out tha’ way…

What a night! And…

I’m not talking about the ladies. Well they didn’t disappoint. I was feasting my eyes on dress codes out of Paris and Milan catwalks, some from lunar and looney catwalks. Even saw one dressed as a mboch.

And…

I’m not even talking about the dude who looked like he’d call on ‘mwaura‘ any time. And he did. Or the 60-somthing sikh “seeking a companion to rock his ‘archaic’ world.” Or his son (they looked like it) who were tempted to touch, but only started touching when ol’ man sikh was overcome by temptation and ‘touched’ the mboch.

Or the ‘loose’ nut desperate for a ‘driver’ to screw her ‘tight’ who believed we were from America (jeez ever heard a shrabber wenging), who wasn’t “on the dance froo mbicoz I haven’t risten to a song I ryk” and wanted us to “mbuy me a brack ice”. It was hard to keep a straight face pretending not to understand which drink this is that was ‘brack’.

I had a great night. If you’re ever bored and need to jazz up your evening, go to Mad House, F1. Alone or with buddies. Never with your chick!

 

Glossary (this is for you, yes you Sybella)

mboch – house girl

mwaura – puke/vomit

shrabber – someone who ‘L’ is ‘R’ and ‘R’ is ‘L’. (ara-ero)

wenging – tweng