Booties ‘n beaches

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BOTTOMS UP WITH BACCHUS

THE first thing that struck me was the order the dude — at least I thought so at the time — placed with the cherubic waitress.

“Sex on the Beach,” he uttered in an unmanly shrill.

A few uninitiated ones within the congregation that night giggled, assuming of course the pink-shirted guy was simply being puckish.

By the way month-ends in our capital always bring all kinds of faces to our few drinking places.

“That’s fine, sir, but what can I get for you?” the attendant responded.

“Oh, I’ve just said I’m having Sex on the Beach today!” he retorted, with a little annoyance.

As he received his order, he swivelled and started sauntering away daintily.

This is not something I had expected on that chilly night.

When I left for the booze basilica, I had two things on mind: bingeing and admiring one thing that we Basotho have become so used to that we no longer appreciate it the way we should.

I’m talking about generous behinds here.

All I wanted that night was to guzzle gallons of Maluti and marvel at the well endowed. In fact, I wanted to do a census of some sort.

No man who worships Bacchus can lie he has never salivated at the sight of a bootilicious sister.

Right, I will tell you the full story about booties and bums another time.

Back to the real issue.

I, in my legendary wisdom, have proposed whoever came up with the names of some of these cocktails for a place in the Bacchus Hall of Fame.

Think about Sex on the Beach, Safe Sex on the Beach, Screwdriver and Slow Comfortable Screwdriver!

Ever looked straight into the eye of a new date — the kind that behaves as if they have never seen a zipper down — when they go through the list of such cocktails?

I tell you those cocktail names either heat up things or kick-start talks about the real reason why men and women date.

But what do you think of men who take such womanish cocktails?

The Bacchus family, as you might know by now, is a concoction of characters, including addicts, pimps, gigolos, perverts, smokers, gamblers, gossipers and plain bitches — all of them decorated socialites brought together by their sheer yet encyclopaedic love for alcohol.

You want to know what I think?

Well, the last thing I want is man making a move on me.

By the way, the more I drink, the younger I get!

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