I was having a chat with a pal recently over possible holiday destinations now that Christmas is upon us. IT really is, the slut outside Capital Pub was wearing a tank top with the words XMAS SPECIAL screaming at me so loud, I was happy to see the Boda guy take some initiative and turn the volume knob down. Don’t these ladies watch telenovellas? Do they not have EATV? Why aren’t they fashionable? Anyway, I digress.
So during our conversation she suggests Mombasa. That’s as cool a plan as any, except for one small detail. The coast gets flooded over the holiday by tourists and locals alike, it’s close to impossible to find accommodation. It gets so bad even lodges have no space on the floor (don’t ask!), and what little space is available is rented out by the hour. You walk in and they hand you the key and a polite reminder that your wake up call will be in 59 minutes. (Seriously, don’t ask!)
Plan B would be an island off the coast. A little place we like to call Malindi…or Malaba (*EDIT : It’s Malindi. Malaba is a border joint and the only people who holiday there are truck drivers and prostitutes). I am not sure which, and I can’t confirm until said friend responds to my beep. Pussycat Dolls just had to go and **** up that word, didn’t they? Somewhere along the line, the conversation shifts to Mermaids and Mermen and the mer-experience. I know what you’re thinking, “of all the topics. How does one even hold attention for that long?” You’re still reading this, right?
So the following are things we need to think about before we go in the pursuit of mer-people…or put another way, before we consider the prospect of hitting some mer-tail. Not you Cheri, we all know you are as pure as that chic on your blog. Now, for the rest of you that have crazy, fishy fantasies…
MER-People are FISH from the waist downwards.
Translation, you will not really get some. Okay, if you’re like Detamble and you’re content with just looking at tits, fine. You’re sorted, but if you are looking for something a little more tangible. Something to work with, sorry, you’re swimming up the wrong current. Plus, there’s no consolation prize here. You can’t even grope the stupid things. Your hands will just slide off their butts.
MER-People really ARE fish from the waist downwards
What does this mean? Well, from experience, fish only smells good when its been fried. I don’t even like it when its boiled and bony. So what are you dealing with here? I’ll tell you. A foul smelling being. Forget the taxi conductor that pissed you off. Forget that kid in class that thought deodorant was something that happened to other people. What you have on your hands is fish! Your best bet is taking the damn thing home for a drink and then, when it is heavily intoxicated (and it will be, because face it, he or she probably drinks like a fish) you lope off the bit you don’t need with an axe and then fry the rest.
MER-People SERIOUSLY are fish from the waist downwards
Hollywood has gone and presented a glamorous perception of mermaids. Like they are pretty beings with orange hair, breasts the size of which would make a cow shy and lovely wonderful fins. Screw that! I’m willing to make an allowance as far as the breasts go, but given that they dwell in the water, they do not watch TV so they don’t know shit about Fair and Lovely or Heads and Shoulders. Hell, they don’t know about Samona so there’s no way they will look all done up. They will also probably be local! And try as I might I can’t picture a fine fin. Have you seen the tail on a fish? Does it make you want to slip your hand into your pants?
Haven’t you heard? MER-People are fish from the waist DOWNWARDS
You are not going to hit the disco. It’s one thing to have two left feet, but what the hell happens in the absence of feet? If you are the materialistic kind, you will not be seen in a MER-Person’s car. On the plus side, you won’t have to spend on shoes.
And that, my friends, is why I am not going coastal soon…