Service: * * * *
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Food: * * * 1\/2
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Ambience: * * * *
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Babe Count: * * * * *<\/i> <\/p>\n
It’s a marathon day for me at Europa. First meeting Damon at noon. We haven’t seen each other for ages. He’s had the flu quite bad, and I’ve just been kinda busy. I suppose dating lots of women and trying to form relationships with all of them will do that. <\/p>\n
“When are we gunna finish our script?” I say. <\/p>\n
He’s too busy looking at the pink g-string sticking out of the blue jeans two tables away. And he’s looking cos I pointed it out to him. <\/p>\n
“Well, I’ve started redrafting it,” he says. “I figured it would be WAY better setting it in a normal city, not some strange little country town.” <\/p>\n
“Oh,” I say. “Does this mean we lose ‘Duiwelspoes’?” Duiwelspoes (Devil’s Cat or Devil’s Vagina, depending on how clean the translator’s mind is) is a fictional South African hicksville town we set the first draft of our horror movie in. <\/p>\n
“It just requires SOOOOOOOO much setting up and explaining just to make it plausible,” he says. <\/p>\n
“Cool, dude. I’m happy. Did the story survive at all?” <\/p>\n
“Ya,” he says, and he wobbles his hand, “sort of. I mean, it’s all there, you know. But now that it’s simplified, it just reads so much faster and easier.” He looks at me. “We’ve got a commercially viable movie here, Roy.” <\/p>\n
One of the managers walks up to us while we’re both staring at the pink panties again. <\/p>\n
“Sorry to interrupt, guys,” he says. “I was going to come and greet just now, but you guys were locked in intense discussions.” <\/p>\n
“I’ve been coming here for years,” I say, “and I’ve never asked your name. I’m Roy.” We shake hands. <\/p>\n
“I’m Sav,” he says. “Short for Saverio.” <\/p>\n
Damon names himself, shakes hands. <\/p>\n
I say, “Saverio, how the hell to you cope with all this prime babeage?” I make a sweep of the room with my hands. The place is brimming with hot-hot-hot. <\/p>\n
“Ay,” he says, and he blushes. “After a while, you just get used to it. You stop yourself from looking, and then it’s all okay.”<\/p>\n
Damon and I talk about the house he’s just bought in Norwood. Bloody hell. Nice price. Nice HIGH price. Bloody actors. He bought the place using the bucks he got paid to be in a BBC miniseries shot in Richard’s Bay. We talk about how I’m managing with all the babes I’m dating. “It’s a bit weird,” I say. “I’m loving all the sex.” He smiles. “But I think I’m a bit of a recluse, actually.” As if that’s news to anyone.<\/p>\n
He’s ready to head home. “You staying here?” he asks.<\/p>\n
“Yeah. Got a coffee date with this babe I met at Contractors.”<\/p>\n
“Aaaaaa!” he says, waving a warning finger at me. “Watch it! Actresses! I’ve warned you!!!”<\/p>\n
“Nah,” I say, “she’s not an actress. She’s an artist.” Contractors is the talent agency who take care of my voice-over work. “Serious babeage,” I say.<\/p>\n
“Oh man,” he says. “Sorry I can’t stay and meet her.”<\/p>\n
“Hey,” I say, “it’s just coffee! We’re not getting MARRIED or anything!”<\/p>\n
“Yeah yeah yeah,” he says, and leaves.<\/p>\n
—<\/p>\n
I’m working on goal setting, using this book I bought the other day. It’s called MAP 4 LIFE, one of the worst book titles imaginable, but a very good tool nonetheless. It’s forcing me to look at all areas of my life — money, spiritual, physical, emotional, family. Eight areas all in all.<\/p>\n