Cloud Nine

It has been a long while since I meet up with my old khakis whom I used to hang out with every friday night for some booze-cum-dancing-cum-beo-charboh session. Some other stuffs simply just steal my life away, be it worth it or not. However, this very friday night when I went to join them, no dancing involved since one of them told me that he "want to save his soul", so I guess that boiled down to only booze and beo charboh.

Got a sms from one of them, asking if I'm joining them at half past 7, and surprise me, that was considered very early. Knowing their pattern, they are the kind of people they do not appear till after 10, unless and of cause we decided to go cheapolo to skip some kind of cover. Too bad I can't join them that early, only appearing somewhere after 10.

Upon arriving at the place, it is a little cozy bar next to some super hot and popular club, with queues that stretch out like people queueing for hello kitty dolls. I found the place, but I found no entrance. Its was covered up by the queue. I like the name of the place, but at the same time, remind me of major big company software as well.

Going into the place, I has to search for my friends since I recognise no one. Even though the place will probably only take me 10 paces, or a maximum of 15 paces to walk from one end to the other end. Told you its a small place. Still I can't find my friends till one of them tap me on the shoulder. Alas, I found them but seeing a beer tower on the table indicate a bad sign. It just means its going to be a lot a lot of booze. Damn I feel drunk already.

I guess the same thing happens which time someone appearing late at the scene. No need to talk. The first thing to do is to bottom up. Oh yeah. Bottom up. Not one. Not two. Its three glasses of beer at one go. No good. I hate anything with gas in it. No good. But what to do, late gotta tio hoot. Rules of the game. You dun obey, you jolly well stay at home and drink hot milk.

Within the hour, I have more booze into me than I have my consumption of booze for an average night out. For a moment, I am wonder why the hell are they so desperate trying to finish up the beer tower. Because it FREE FLOW till 11! No shit! Free flow beer? Now you gotta drink like there is no tomorrow. No such thing called mouthful. Its either half glass or bottom up. 2 acceptable level only.

At the rate of drinking, everyone will be in cloud nine way before the cow comes home. Anyway, the cow never goes home. I think they just gotta brutally rape by some bull somewhere along someplace. -blurp- They already have 4 towers before I arrive. Oh yeah, you can see the jolly faces of these people.

You know that someone has reach the top when they just kept talking about a single subject and refuse to change it even when everyone else wants to change it. It sure takes a lot more effort than any of us expected. It's a mogu. Its a bean bag. Its $46. Yes, we know. Change.

Finally we change it, and it become $46 worth of yo jit (kidney) soup. Damn, 46 is there to stay for the night. Someone suddenly have an urge for yo jit. Been on cloud nine, we put up a challenge to the person. If she can finish up $46 worth of yo jit soup, we pay for her yo jit soup. She is so going to get her yo jit soup.

After 30 minutes of bargaining, like those aunties in wet market who are trying to a cut a better deal for their purchase, we come to no conclusion. Even the boyfriend has no faith in her, and to lose at her boyfriend expenses is something the boyfriend cannot afford at the moment. And she feels the reward is not attractive enough. I grew tired of it the bargain. So I throw in my challenge. I got sick of yo jit soup. So I challenge her to $46 worth of kosong prata. Oh yeah, still 46. I have no idea what has 46 gotta do with anything, but since mogu started, we just let it carry on.

$46 worth of kosong prata is no joke. She is suppose to finish it all by herself. Even if I throw in her boyfriend to help her, I still have enough confidences to say she can't finish it. And since she wants monetary reward, I throw in moolah. Not $100. Not $200. Its $300 lor! Me lor! I must be mad. All thanks to the booze. All thanks to been on cloud nine. All thanks to 46.

Anyway, nothing happens in the end. The $46 stays in ante pot. $300 stays in my wallet. Good. The night ends with supper, or should I say that is my dinner, at one of our favourite joint for good frog legs, fried beancurd, and sambal potatoes leaves in a goldfish viewing zone.

I must remind myself to stopping throwing in my moolah on such challenge.

No good. No good.

ps - drunk dialing waste lotsa moolah
pps - the later the timing for drunk dialing, the better it seems
ppps - find the right person to drunk dialing