The perfect setting in the coffee house was not a resemblance to a perfect meeting that I had with my friend a while ago. She has just arrived from the far Europe, getting her feet back to her hometown for the festive season. Her arrival was half-an-hour later than to what I was expecting, and this time, it’s no Beemer she’s riding with. She was chauffeured in her Rolls Royce Phantom that made my jaw wide open for a good ten seconds. It was those flawless legs that first appeared as the rear doors automatically opened, followed by what I should describe as an extreme makeover. To what was only plain t’s with jeans or simply baju kurong, is now replaced with tights complemented with short skirts, the shoulder-length-curls, not to forget the heels and a bad taste of make-up combination. “Let’s go” was her choice of gesture after not meeting for a long time; I was standing by the coffee house at that point. The major physical transformation has sent a thousand questions to my brain of which I dared not to confront her directly. Our conversation started off quite well but it got derailed not long after that. Her conversation was now up to a point that I’m fed up of hearing them and it made me wanna smack her head with those heels. It was those kind of talks which bears the subject of ‘whatever, I’m rich!’ Another thing that I did notice but wouldn’t say a word about it is that how annoying she was to fondle around with her Prada phone pouch a million times in front of me. It’s that annoying until I know what brand, colour and texture it is! Maybe it’s her way of sending out a signal that it’s time to compliment her toys. But a gentleman wouldn’t do that bitch. Plus she’s acting more like a Diva. It’s catastrophic to have a combination of diva and a bitch. The show-off and the no-response-reaction may have ignited a fire. She called off the meeting and it was barely 15mins that we both sat. Out she goes, screaming and yelling out for her chauffer, which could be heard over a mile away. That created some attention and I guess that’s what she wanted for her grand-exit. A crowd looking over to her and was picked up by a Phantom. That’s way extravagant than Cinderella. There was I, ditched by a Diva bitch, of which it felt better not having to listen to her my-handbag’s a Prada talks. I took a sip of my coffee and headed for the exit. A loud “beep” was echoing around me and I walked in circles looking for it till I was almost hit by a car. This gave me a sudden shock and opened my eyes. I was on my bed, the “beep” was my phone ringing out a text-message, and to only realize that it was only a dream nightmare. What’s ironic is that the text message I received was sent by the Diva bitch in my dreams and I was still stoned reading her text. Gave her an irrelevant reply of my nightmare and seconds later, the Diva called me asking what the hell happened. Well at least she greeted me with “good morning” and not some diva greets. To broaden your imagination, she was carrying Paris Hilton’s attitude in my dreams. See how bitchy is that!

By the way, I’ll reveal the subject in this story in a vague way. She’s known to be carrying the title of ‘Pink&Prada’ but I think it needs some amendment now, “Diva Prada” is the new her.

P/s. sorry jimbo for the blog post title as I’ve copied it from your blog title. It suits this post best and the Diva agreed with me too! Haha.

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