Do any of you bloggers like to push the boundaries when it comes to playing up whilst on a night out? I know I do. I have never seen the attraction of a night out on the tiles unless there is a story to tell the next day.
So here it is, a new blog post for anyone and everyone to share their tales of shenanigans and debauchery!
Let me get the ball rolling with a yarn that had me in stitches... The venue was Trilogy nightclub in Dubai. It was a Friday night last weekend. The awesome DJ Christian Burne was behind the ones and twos, warming up for Christopher Lawrence (who does not deserve to be crowned #7 DJ in the world).
The girl I was with (who goes by the name of Cupcake) decided that she wanted to wear my trousers. And I quite fancied myself in her short skirt. So without hesitation, we went into the male toilets and changed (in full view of everyone coming in and out).
The girl then bolted off to the dance floor, whilst I was stopped by a security guard at one of the bars. He said that I can't wear the skirt "because it is too short"!
Five minutes later, his colleague eventually finds the girl who is wearing my trousers and demands that we change. So I go back into the toilets, take off the skirt and give it to the girl, who goes to change in the ladies toilets.
The look on peoples faces as they came into the toilets and saw this guy standing there in his underpants was priceless and made up for what was a ridiculously bad DJ set by Christopher Lawrence.
So let this be a warning to any of you males out there - If you do want to wear a skirt to Trilogy nightclub, make sure it's a knee length number or below and you won't have any problems getting in.
Lastly, I managed to locate the door policy for Trilogy, which reads like this (no mention of short skirts): Dress code is ‘smart casual or funky clubwear’ – no shorts, no sandals, no trainers, no ripped jeans, collared shirts preferred, no local attire.
During a booze infused evening back in early September this year, I made an outburst that my nipples are living to regret. I declared that that I was going to run the 2006 Dubai marathon, taking place on January 6th.
Firstly, for most people of western origin (London being my home city), this is a ridiculous time of year to hold a marathon. How is one supposed to indulge in Christmas and the New Year celebrations, whilst trying to train for a 26 mile race?
Anyway, I am usually a man of my word and I see this as a challenge, so here it is in writing, I will be taking part in the 2006 Dubai marathon.
Anyway, there are more hurdles to this marathon training than meets the eye. Forget about the lack of breath; the aching limbs; the blisters; and the bruised toe nails. What you really need to worry about is sore nipples.
Since reaching puberty, my nipples have always stood to attention, as if someone has just brushed an ice cube over them. They are permanently erect.
Now, as part of any marathon training program, one has to run several 20 mile training runs, to build up distance endurance. So last week, I had the painful pleasure of joining the Dubai Creek Striders running club on a 20 mile run around Dubai.
We met at 6am on Friday morning (which forced me to stay in on Thursday night). It was still dark, but I could just about make out men and women rubbing something onto their nipples (and I though I was here to run).
We set off and as the sun came up, I soon realised I was running with about 50 people, all dressed in the same 'club' vests and wearing too much spandex!
By the end of the 20 miles, my nipples were on fire from chaffing against my top. And following the run, I had to convert various t-shirts, by cutting small slits for my nipples to poke out (air and repair). Post the run, these t-shirts had to be worn for about four days before I could go back to wearing conventional tops.
So take my advice, if you ever decide to train for a marathon, lube up those nips, or it's t-shirt slits!
I have been told Vaseline does the trick.
Today, I have started a debate with Mr. Luke Rowland (aka Luke Hush) by email. And this has inspired me to form the first House Music blog on Albawaba.com.
The debate relates to who should be crowned (once and for all) as the original 'Godfather' of house music.
Although he has not had a full opportunity to explain himself, Mr. Rowland appears to be insistant that DJ/Producer Frankie Knuckles is indeed the true Godfather of house music.
Myself, being someone who was bought up on house music (the early material coming out of Chicago and Detroit), I have to disagree with Mr. Rowland. I beleive Marshall Jefferson is the true Godfather of house music.
The list of careers that Marshall has helped or launched reads like a who's who of dance music; Roy Davis Jr, Felix Da Housecat, Lil Louis, none other than Frankie Knuckles, Steve "Silk" Hurley, and many, many others.
In 1986 he played piano on a House record for the first time ever. The idea was so innovative that record companies told him that it wasn't even house music. That record was the platinum "House Music Anthem", and today you rarely hear a house record without piano.
Since then, Marshall's list of accomplishments in House music read like no one else. In 1987 he produced the first ever "Acid House" record "Acid Tracks" using the TB 303, and simultaneously launching the successful career of DJ Pierre.
Also, he produced the first House record incorporating soulful spiritual vocals, launching the successful careers of Ten City, Kim Mazelle and Ce Ce Rogers. All those early songs are blueprints for what we recognize today as Deep House, Garage and Techno music.
So considering Marshall Jefferson launched Frankie Knuckles' career, doesn't that make Frankie Knuckles the 'Godson' of house music Mr. Rowland?