Thursday, August 9, 2007


My affinity with alcohol has grown ever since the boss bought me two very long, very smooth glasses of Erdinger for my 23nd birthday: an attempt of making me drunk so I would start talking absolute rubbish in order to entertain him. I don't remember talking much that night, though, and he was the one who was talking to us.

It was different, even a year back, when I was still the stupid kid pretending to be a toughie and trying new things out, drinking a lot despite hating the very taste. Now I'm 23, technically an adult, pretending to be serious from 9 am to 6pm, with war paint on to fight the daily war. I need that after-hours beer to be myself again, to forget about profit and loss for awhile, to be able to talk crap with friends again.

But now I'm getting broke, so Jolly Shandy from 7-11 would suffice for now.

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