The Paostian Deal

Actually, I enjoy drinking. It's opening the bottles that freaks me out more. Especially when they do it with their teeth. I mean, how barbaric can you get?

I do enjoy drinking. But ONLY with Friends. And lean 6-footers with flat tummies or nice abs who will drive or take me home. So that's very selective. Other than that everything is entirely forced.

But seriously. Drinking alcohol is fine. Getting drunk is fine. How people "justify" the act is what ticks me off.

No pretensions my cute ass. Drops inhibitions my sore foot. Drinking "for" purity and all-out honesty is C-R-A-P. I can be myself even with just my own saliva. It is my problem if I can't say things the way I want when I want. On the other hand I don't treat it as a problem at all: Otherwise I'd dive into desperation and look for other human-friendly ways just to speak my mind--or heart--but that's utterly exhausting. After all, I'm not smart or intelligent, only charming. Hence the best truth I can offer is what I plainly am: fascinatingly adorable. If I don't have anything good to say, I literally keep still. If I can't say something in a sane time at a sane place, then it's forever a secret, a personal burden, if you want. And yes I can live with being a loser for that because it's my fault to begin with. I don't risk killing my liver only to share thoughts or feelings then pretend I didn't some 10 hours later. That's pure idiocy.

And if you want to waste ugly memories, try jumping in front of an angry bus, head first if you can. Close your eyes, DON'T DIE, then hope the first creatures you see when you wake up three months later have pupils or lips. You have better chances that way than with oceans of alcohol. Except with First Loves, Earth annihilation and family inheritance, forgetting is easy, for crying out loud. Why always stage a bottled-up drama? You drink. Because you want to "forget something". The following weekend, you remember that drinking session last Wednesday. And the reason why you drank. So tonight you want to drink again. See the gaddamned loop? It's sooooo uselessly old.

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I remember family holidays when the entire Bicol region would pack our house and ruin my life. In the morning it's all running, biking, picking flowers around the village with cousins. At noon it's the grand lunch. Until 4PM. Then it's the adults' time to shine.

Beer.

Even my fabulous grandma drank like a dehydrated elephant. And I used to dislike her big time that. But what I hated so much back then was when they begin toying with the kids. And by kids, I mean me.