God Thinks I'm Abel

I swear, there must be something in these hideously toxic alcoholic beverages I've been pouring down my greedy throat these past few days; my short term memory keeps failing me. It has failed me to the point that my usual ability to keep abreast with everyday gossip has been devastatingly compromised. Take tonight for example, H brings us to the flat and makes a snide comment about a common friend and I tease him about it, and instead of retaining the content, I proceed to forget it. It might be due to the noxious durian fumes which have killed my braincells or that the numbing effect of alcohol has proceded to work on my cranial reflexes. How can I keep up with my social life if my kay po-ness is handicapped by my lack of a short-term memory?! I might start with daily cross-word or sudoku puzzles to keep my brain agile. Do what the retirees do... or maybe start hanging out with my little cousins more and indulge in a few memory games from time to time. This is so embarressing to admit... I might have premature alzheimers... Oh well, it happens to the best of us.

What also happens to the best of us, are regrettable alcky reeking snogs which one might indulge in from time to time. This is especially if the time happens to be a saturday night in the VIP section of MOS. I like to think that I'm above the superficial trappings of a guy with oodles of money. His porsche was fun, but not impressive. His holier-than-thou stance towards the MOS manager was entertaining. His general money-whoring was ,well, uh, not attractive,but it made him an easy target. Guy with money spells 'go' to most of us ,so after a few jokey hand schmoozing and play grovelling on his part, I must confess (and god forgive me for this), I was sold. Then came the contact. Then the awkward withdrawal. Then the regret. and now, the post mortem. I wasn't too sad nothing happened, just upset there was no porsche /ferrari/ whatever sportscar to ride in anymore. Then I came to think, I obviously didn't like him that much if I care more for what he has than who he is. I just hope he's not an idiot enough to give way to the other,more professional gold digger in our company. If he does anyway, then they do deserve each other.

On a seperate note, sometimes I find myself wondering if I will ever get my sorry ass to Tokyo. Especially having watched Tokyo Drift I'm more than convinced that Japan will be Ichiban for me. Come on, they have vending machines than vend FOOD. I'm talking hot, tasty JAPANESE FOOD. So I looked up this school in Shaw centre called Igomo or something like that that offers private lessons . They were even friendly enough to provide pictorial testimonials of happy satisfied clients who did succeed in hauling their sorry asses out of their couches to learn the language and even go (in their classes) to Ichiban Japan ! I scanned each lovingly uploaded picture for hot guys,you know,in the hope that maybe gorgeous guys might pursue interests other than their looks.Unfortunately, there were none. Just Miss Swan lookalikes and sad, middle aged men that looked like life had dealt them a raw deal. I am not discouraged however, I will just take private lessons. Nothing comes between me and 'exceedingly handsome guy' from Tokyo Drift... For him, I will brave hell or high water... (meaning miss swans and um, disgruntled old men)


JAH- PAN. ICHIBAN.

YEA!