What's a poor boy to do?

Name your poison? Me, I like going out around town. I'm always with my buddy, Kurt[s]. People think we are twins, really. Despite the fact that I'm an as-white-as-snow-Irishman and he's a dreadlocked [b]lack dude from (he likes to say Santa B but it's really Longggggggggggggggpoke). Well, everybody sees us (and the cool types do their best to ignore us) and we're out and about, as you do, in town. He was at some fashion thing in Moderna Museet habit fashion summit and he gives me the buzz: "Get down here dude the place is crawling with fashion thirty-something chicks". So away with me...but I got caught up with the boys playing chess in The Wall Cafe in Mariatorget. I finally caught up with him in Riche and the place was humming (the lights were full on and there were loads of trios and quartets sitting about). In I goes (the black guy on the door knows me and he's one nice guy) swaggering over to the Kurts and I tell him we're on our way to Swampen to meet and other Irishman who just crash landed from Sunsvall. So we're out on Stureplan and there's a great sunny-evenin-in-may buzz about the place. I sees me bould friend under the Svamp and we are simultaneously hailed from the terrace of Sturekompaniet...a soul musician and a few of his buddies, one of which does a lot of good work with the kids in Botkyrka (another soul brother now). We turn into a gang of six and we are off to this bar that the fashion summit people are gone to. It turns out that there is a rumor that the Swedish Football team of yesteryear are going to turn up too (at Bolean's place) so the place fills up. There was a weird mixture of fashion summit people thirty/forty-somethings and football fans in full rig-out complete with Kiss-like batman make-up. Jesus, me friend from Sundsvall/Ireland (who wasn't dressed for the occasion) was having a hard time in his personal-come-mental life and we had to blow the place for Riche again. Crowed though by now, the joint was hopping and all (even the snobby snutty Swedish girls) were in good form and we had an exceptionally good Wednesday Knight. These two chicks that we see around at all the hot spots, and who ignore us with an effort, actually smiled and said hello to myself and the dude (Sunsvall was beyond saying hello to at this stage; he was looking dower). Turns out that the young dolls were back from holy India and had seen the light I suppose. You can never tell, reminds me to keep an open mind on life. Then this chick came and danced with us, introducing herself with a great hug to myself, Kurts, and even Sunsvall got pulled out of the gloom and doom for a grand big intro-hug. More chicks streamed in and we all danced the night off (the big cleave is in this year boys and it's here to stay thank god, if only the boys in the cheap seats would relax then all the sexes would get the benefit out of this ould life-here-on-and -around-town.