When the cat's away...purr...

So what better excuse for the mice to come out to play then. DUH!
Doesn't take a genius to guess what happens when you start with a Frat party with 20 something year old expat boys miles away from home and lotsa alcohol. Oh ya, you get a Ronan Keating lookalike with vodka blood doing the french thang! *wink* Oooh la la i can hear the mercury sizzling and it's definitely not from the Smirnoff vanilla coke infusion!*double wink*

Who sez KL's got no eye candy? Ah velvet underground's just full of 'em that nite!
No i'm not talking about Mr Playboy aka Dimitri from Paris albeit he's still got some smooth grooves. (even if they're old skool!)I'm referring to the sudden surge of french boyz on ze dance fleur. No wait, i forgot that my X5 friend was hosting half of 'em and he's straight as a door nail. Don't ask!

So what if the light comes on and your seratonin levels are buzzing...haven't you heard of Rush? *sheepish grin* errr i haven't either until then. Yup, go knock yourself up with hard trance and "barberella" lights till 6am eh? The PVD classics were kinda cheesy fun actually but don't tell me why! ;P Or better still, if your make-up's not meltproof under the sun, get dragged into a Storm (Mitsubishi makes 'em sturdy & steady & blindproof most of the time) by high & hot chicks to a "sunnysville" slumber party with no Zzz. Whatever you do after that, just make sure you get home 30 minutes before Dad's CRV brakes screech into the driveway coz' that smoke in the hair's gotta be washed out and Paul Mitchell does the job nicely.