I want to tell you… Whoo-oo… That I love you…
You won’t believe it. That was me singing.
Guess what? I was drunk last night. Maybe I should make this a template.
I found myself meeting up with my former officemates / drinking buddies, Peachy, Alex, JE, and Badong. Too bad, Mandy retired earlier. These beer-repapips made the tiresome work at the office bearable. Of course, the venue – at Stir-Crazy. I don’t remember shelling out money. Well, there were very little that I remember, anyway.
Then they all went away except for Peachy who stayed with me and my bottles of beer. Suddenly, my brother texted me; telling me to go to some beer-house at Timog. He needed my drinking-buddy expertise, and my sensible opinions on matters ranging from ants and dinosaurs to end-times religions. But mostly, it’s about love. It’s all about love.
When people who rarely call you up (to ask you how have you been) suddenly call, ninety percent of the time, they have a problem. And you know what it is about.
Cutting the long story short, we went home and at 4AM, I went to the other side of the street where the carinderia was still open. I had my dinner, finally. The papaitan was served smokin’ warm. After five minutes of wondering why in the world did I not have rice, I told the girl to give me one cup. I thought I was going to rot there staring at the viand.
The real moral here is that every Wednesday, I and my friends should have a Stir-Crazy session. That’s what I realized with my genius brain.
Originally published on Friendster, 18 January 2007