Whose wine is it, anyway?

I am seated atop a salon chair, Come hither merciless thread, And rip out my upper lip hair, Until my skin turns crimson red. Pluck it all out, From the corners of my mouth, To the point below my nose, While I hold a sturdy pose, Or display a duck-faced pout. Pluck it out from below my chin, pierce all areas of my skin, Shape my eyebrows; overgrown, show the world, parts of my face they've never known.  Be a good thread and shred,  All unruly growth off my face,  Before it grows and spreads all over the place.

  We have amongst us an author and witty writer who, like uncle Fred, is sometimes a blighter. WhatsApp Forwards, he cannot help, but send to the great annoyance of our cyclist friend.  This cyclist of whom I speak, Is an athlete and a fitness freak.  She can be both friendly and severe.  She's a well meaning and inspiring dear. It is nothing but calling for trouble to irk her,  which is one of the hobbies of our dear cinematographer.  This cinematographer, is the naughtiest of the lot. The teller of stories, the conceiver of plots. He is the Galahad of the group, always in the thick of things.  He is the self assigned Cupid without wings.  Another teller of tales, is an insurance man who should write more as and when he can. His horror stories will scare the bravest of us all,  By that, I mean, a certain Federer fan, a tennis know-it-all.  This brave Pu La Deshpande fan, Is also a dog lover and beagle owning hooman. Which brings us to another one of our Plums,  whose cakes ar

We didn't get off to a good start, did we? When we first met, I found you haughty, pretentious and arrogant.  You were the type of city my mother had warned me about. You were overbearing with your tall buildings, non expungeable  odour of refinement and blatant air of aloofness. You were emotionally and economically unavailable. You were high handed, like the pretty boys in college I totally avoided. Here I was, stuck with you for a month. I must admit, I tried to get away from you. I had a brief, very enjoyable fling with Orlando, but Orlando was a summer romance and It didn't last.  Here I was, back to square one or rather to the 1st avenue. Back into your unwelcoming arms! You gave me a smug smile and I resigned to your company.  Did I like you? Hell no!  Was it love at first sight? Definitely not!  But you were a persistent bastard, weren't you? Every time I thought I had you figured out, you'd surprise me with your enthralling charm. Who would have thought that ev