What says "live fast, love hard, leave a beautiful corpse" more than going home at 1AM blissfully drunk? Easy. Going to work at 7AM blissfully hung over. Oh, excuse me. 7:01. Of course I had to wait until my hair was dry before going out of the house. Never mind if I'm one minute late. I might have been trashed but it doesn't mean I had to look the part.
So I went to work looking immaculate and all innocent like, but really it felt as if someone flipped the whole of Manila like a fucking heavy burger patty and let it all crash on my head. Nevertheless I was still smiling like an idiot all morning -- a sort of "I'm fine, I'm not drunk, stop looking at me like that, go back to your workstation fool" kind of smile.
This was all thanks to Barny who, by some randomly and cosmically synchronized reason, wanted to go out drinking last night as well. Bottomline, it wasn't really much of an effort to get me to say yes.
We went to this really cozy bar in Adriatico -- not too crowded, not too dark, and they played the coolest blend of 80's music all night. I found myself singing with The Police, Morrissey, Queen (I think), and many other artists my older cousins used to like way back when I was a kid. Barny was disappointed I was enjoying myself far more than he was, that selfish brat.
All in all it was a Friday evening well-spent. I was aware that I might have regrets the following morning (and maybe I did, but just a teensy weensy bit), but hey. Live fast, love hard, leave a beautiful corpse. :-)
