It’s a 32-hour workweek for them but it’s around 42-45 for us.
When you find that you lost the last 4 available seats in your first and last chance to see an Eiga San entry, you don’t lose hope. You do Plan B, a plan you never thought you have.
An end of a week in hell deserves a discovery of a cozy place that destroys your long-standing negative impression of a city, despite housing the Senate, the Foreign Affairs office, 2 important embassies, the Central Bank and the like. I would not prefer going to Nicotina on daytime but it’s a welcome change from the boring pizza-and-gossip date with friends. (Plus, if you’re tired as an overused donkey, you don’t have the energy to choose anymore).
Except for the singers who were satisfactory (and who debunked the fashion tip that glittery black is slimming), the food that were so-so, and the occasional artsy stuff going on at one side, the place deserves future visits.
The three-hour long “date” gave me time to mentally flush all the crap out of the last days, and made me think of whatever it was that occupied my mind for the past days as well. Interestingly, I may have been thinking of a lot of things, but because of my high grade on Self-Restraint 101, the subject of my deepest thoughts turned out to be….
My thoughts—pathetic, crazy, innovative, harsh, creative, reasonable, unreasonable—were all surpassed and superceded by my thoughts on their consequences. Not to say I stifle my freedom to live but in the final analysis, thinking of the consequences assures me of a safe existence. I would rather keep details. It does not involve violence in any way, so let’s leave it at that. At best, it even involves the opposite.
My mother, the supreme implementor of my “9p curfew @ 25 y/0”, asked me if I’m okay when I got home.
I kicked my shoes off instead of carefully placing them in the shoerack.
I went up the stairs singing.
I threw my bag on the bed.
I washed my face and brushed my teeth, then sat in front of the computer.
Yes, mother, I am drunk. I’m proud of myself for taking it well, leading me to believe that my tolerance for alcohol is very high. Let’s not count glasses but I did have a few rounds. When it’s on the house, you drink a lot; you don’t want to disappoint the hostess. I paid for my margarita/s but it’s so worth it. I think I should make it a weekly treat. It’s been a month since I had it and my mouth never ever watered for something liquid until tonight. Now I understand why people get a few drinks after office. I guess this was the most stressful week I ever had that’s why the lure of alcohol was not too hard to resist. Oh well, I’m generally easy. ;-P
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On an entirely different matter, QTV (Channel 11 on local, 24 on cable) allegedly bought the rights to air House. I was surprised to see it replaced by Worlds Apart on its horrible 5 a.m. timeslot; turned out AXN totally dropped it as of now and QTV will jump right on it anytime this month. I wish AXN will air Season 3 episodes when the DVD is released. I would have a bootleg copy of it by then but they’re not gonna lose a House viewer in me.
Then I have two months before I see (hopefully, 2nd Avenue, hopefully!) the end of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. In one sweet swoop, I’ll simply say that Matt Albie and Danny Tripp, rolled into one, with a Dr. Greg House as an overcoat, totally exemplifies the man of my current dreams. I think I’ve said it a few times before.
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I have to sleep now. It’s almost 3 in the morning. I hope I do not regret anything I typed in this entry.