Saturday, October 14, 2006

Flat Night

The French for Friday is Flat Night. That was lesson one. Flat Night is Friday; Friday is Flat Night. Synonymous. Got it?

Ill tell you what we mean when we say ‘Flat Night’. We mean we go friggin crazy; we mean girls, girls, boys; we mean booze, and lots of it; beer, beer, beer; we mean shakin the dancefloor with our thrusting booties. Flat Night means it’s Happy Hour all night.

So, at 22.00 we log onto and find us some drinking games to propel our enjoyment of Flat Night. We get boozing with beer. We play some shit and laugh some more. Jenny dries her hair but she’s also going mental because its Flat Night; we nail a counting game. Flat Night.

We leave our logement at approximately 23.15 to find a hole to get beer’d. This is achieved in the Marais. We do more beer in a bar.We look boho. We are boho. Tommy smiles - the women go mad.

We move on after a group of bisexuals drop some fizzling chat into our melting pan. Jenny hitches a bike ride with Xavier who works for Danone but really wants to be an actor; we strut like dandies. We walk over the river; the flood lit buildings drunkenly stare at our Flat Night. In a blur of time we encounter our destination. Drinks are cheap; the music is alluring. It’s Flat Night.

The Dogg (first name Snoop) rifles his beats around the cellar. The bisexuals begin to move in on an increasingly oblivious Jay. But hey, that’s flat night.


Blogger Johdoe said...

How's it going, Parisiens?

11:25 AM  

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