... and Khufu shuffled his feet...

A friend had warned me when she gave me the invitation - "I have no idea what her music is like."

"It's by the pyramids," I thought. "They probably don't let just anybody perform there."

Last Friday night, Hurricane Chantal hit the sphinx like a brick wall. At least that's what it sounded like.

A sinfully curvy Chantal Chamandy put on a show replete with awesomely hot dancers, gorgeous backup singers, a helium balloon moon, and the Cairo Symphony Orchestra.

For about an hour and a half, I was amazed at how someone so pretty, and so well-produced, can be so many notes off key, in so many different languages (english, french, spanish, and arabic), so consistently.

No matter. I'm a lyrics man, myself. And Chantal's songs about "war" and "love" (when you kiss me there my body thaws, like an ice cream cone...) did not disappoint. They were the stuff that greeting cards at Zellers are made of.

Chantal transformed a packed crowd of Egypt's finest - young specimens of Arab manhood, who are normally shy and reserved. On Friday night, they whistled, howled, swayed, and made some seemingly genuine offers to augment her gene pool.

Yup, she won over some hearts and minds that night. And behind her, in his pyramid, Khufu was already downloading her off iTunes.