lo hice (without the inverted exclamation mark)

Well, I’ll tell you what’s on my mind. Woke up this morning fully expecting to be beset by a head-splitting headache. But that didn’t happen; not even when my feet hit the ground.

I got drunk last night -or so I believe.

Yesterday was one of those days. Another case of over-backed-up balls impinging on the over-prepared brain. Let’s just say that, by the end of that class, Maud Menten and Leonor Michaelis were rolling in their respective graves. And by the end of that class I was both relieved to be out of that classroom, the theater of my irremediable incompetence (it’s okay guys, let me go ahead and be hard on myself,) and struggling with the self-hate and anger that was threatening to bulldoze the firewall of my temporary relief.

A friend has hit town. And he has brought along chiko -bless him!

We go to this place which I am beginning to get disenchanted with. Next, we head to this new place:

A couple of beers for him, something with milk for me -that was the plan.

Not quite

I get to thinking, the human race has for millennia been using ethanol to drown its sorrow. In fact, from what I gather, alcohol not only helps people forget their problems, but it also is frequently seen solving age old problems. I mean, look at Barney: every time he’s hitting on a girl, he has got a drink in hand. So I, being a practical dude and what not, decide, what the hell?! I embark on the adventure of my second beer ever (and possibly more)

I know, I know! Hold your astonishment. Hey guys, I said knock it off!

I meet my friend’s bottle with an overstated clank (I am new to this society, for f sakes!). I ask him such questions as “What’s the policy? Is St George supposed to be facing me or…”

We are on the second bottle. I still cannot figure out how people came to like the taste of this thing. But I am determined to solve this mystery; I am going to get to the bottom of this even if it takes all night.

I start to feel a strange connection with the water of Tana: “Listen buddy; we are not so different, you and I. Check it out! I happen to be sixty something percent water. Scientists say my ancestors came out of your belly. Word!…”

Third bottle. My friend offers to take care of it for me if I so desire. I am like “How dare you!? I am on a hattrick!” If I am lucky, and if the game of football is anything to go by, they may even let me keep the bottles.

I shit you not, when I finish my third, my friend is still dilly dallying with his. Beginner’s luck? Rookie mistake?

By now I have grown extremely self-conscious. Luckily, we are sitting in the relative dark of the immediate waterfront. I believe that I have been spared the scourge of the guzzling-teacher-espied-by-his-students. I am loving all the clever things that are coming out of my mouth. But maybe I need to work on the volume.

My friend makes comments on the overzealous wingmen around us. At least two benches are occupied by two guys with a girl wedged between them. It is hard to tell which one of them was trying to give her the business.

My friend is paying the bills and I am anxiously waiting to see if my legs are going to rise to the challenge of carrying their inebriated master. And rise they do! “Way to go fellas!” I have to give it up to them for the second time in as many weeks.

The three P’s

I pee in my friend’s hotel room, I wash my face with a couple of handfuls and take a good look at myself as depicted in the mirror. I still cannot decide if I am drunk or not.

The second P. Well, one time I veer dangerously close to this group of girls. On the bajaj ride back home, I keep wondering if Adele sitting next to me is checking me out. Both of this things, I am capable of doing without alcohol in my blood. Damn!

The third P, I text my friend: “Have arrived home safe! And I am in full possession of my facult… fuck I need to pee, puke or have pussy!”

He replies: “I know what ur problem is now…I’ve the guts to do something once you get home…the easiest P to choose from by the way” (Don’t get it twisted. He is committed like a pig.)

Me: “Lucky son of a gun! You are puking, aren’t you?”


So I will tell you what is on my mind:

  1. who got dumped
  2. i can do without cats or dogs; especially cats.

Btw this is the  prison elementary school Aemro used to go to:


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