post-(non)drunk post

Current books read: A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby - music in ear: Scissor Sisters - watched dvd: Disney's Sport Spass Superstars

Some people are just not meant to be some things. My friend's brother for example. He got a really bad taste, so we decided that he wasn't born to be a designer, a decorator, or anywhere near a stylist. He has a damn good negogiating skills though. He's a diplomat. Not a very important one, but still, a good-to-look-up-to diplomat.

I, clearly wasn't born to become an athlete. I sucked in almost every sport I've tried out. Basketball? Suck at that one. Swimming? Too fucking hairy and don't have intention to ken-doll-ify myself. Tennis? Suck at this one too. Softball? Also insert suck-related phrase here.

Squash? I tried it once, but I lost 9-0 9-0 9-0 and 9-0 9-2 9-0 to a nice guy who supposed to be my so-called trainer, not butcher. Bowling? During some tens of games that I've played, I scored over 100 three times only, I think, and over 110 only once. Badminton? I can be a really good player in this one, had the rules stated that nets were not a fucking necessity.

What else have I tried .. hmm .. Volleyball? A good ball controller, but lack of strategy. I hallucinatively believe that I will rock in Beach Volleyball, though, eventhough I don't have all the bulging biceps, triceps, and pecs. Chess? Once check-mated by a friend in less than 10 steps, and it traumatized me.

I did got a tons of compliments from my PE teacher and classmates in my second year of junior high for jumping the highest at high jump, running the fastest in 100 m sprint, being the most flexible and foldable student in gymnastics, and scoring the highest in all first-mid, second-mid, and final tests. And he's not the pervert one of three of our three PE teachers. So I guess I will be OK doing tracks or gymnast.

But during last weekend only, I reckoned that I also was not born to be one of .... those people. Stick with me to hear the story.

Saturday. ca. 4pm.

I was just finished doing leg exercise at my gym and was ready to stretch my legs on my bed when...

Not me: Hey, you wanna go out tonight?
Me: Go out? (with a very audible worriedness)
NM: Yeah. A friend of mine from Madrid came and I kinda obliged to him showing the city around because he did it all the time when I visited Madrid. So?
M: Urgh... OK ...

I kinda wanted to go out, though. Because honestly, I rarely go out and once in like two fucking years won't hurt, right?

Saturday. ca. 7pm. 1st Bar.

NM: A bottle of [one of the beers that I have never heard of. It's Italian].
Madrid Guy: Beck's Gold.
M: Your best non-alcoholic cocktail drink.
Bartender or whatsnot: That'd be Ipanema.
M: Sounds great. [eventhough I don't really know what the hell is that]. I'll take it.

M [not out loud, bitterly]: I can't believe they will charge us 5 Euros for some cut lime, ice and ginger ale..

NM, M, and MG: yadda, yadda, yadda ... [having fun]

The bar was great though. I love their new decor kinda. They are having this sorta Beach Party theme for a month during summer. And it was nice. But since I wasn't planning to step on sands and have some sticking to my sweaty feet, it threw me off a bit stepping on those little sands.

Saturday. ca. 9pm. Hamburger Hafen.

We were walking around, reaching even Speicherstadt and Hafen City to show MG around. It's fun, interesting sight, awesome weather, but my legs hurt like hell.

Saturday. ca. 10pm. Hamburger Dom.

Hamburger Dom is always fun. But apparently, tonight was a quite special night. (1) It seems that there are more tourists then ever. (2) There are some a lot of Junggeseller Abschied (eng.: Bachelor Farewell) groups. (3) And also for the bride-to-be's. It was super funny to watch and see.

We were having another drink. MG ordered another Beck's, NM ordered Cola (he's driving), I ordered a baby-beer (Malzbier), or that's how the waiter called it.

And finally, visiting Dom means that another some kilometers walking..

Saturday. ca. 11:30pm. 2nd Bar.

I couldn't sit up straight (please, no pun here) on the bar bench. My legs totally hurts.

NM: Two Beck's Gold, please.
M: Spezi. (Yay! I love Spezi.) [But next time, I will wiggle the car keys in front of the bartender, so that he thought that I'm the one who's driving, without the sudden judgmental look what had this guy just done? Ordering a Spezi in my bar. Or perhaps it's only me thinking that he's judgmental. Hohhohoho..]

The bar was actually great though. The music was awesome. We didn't dance, but the dancing crowd is pleasing to watch. There was this point where we order the second drink, and of course M and NM ordered another alky. Me? I'm happy with bitter lemon. :) MG asked of course, why I don't drink. And I explained the fact of me being a moslem, and I don't like the smell anyway.

And then the funniest thing happened. The DJ played 'I Will Survive'. So I was like, teased them both, clapping hands, singing along, you know.. the usual stuff. Especially in the bridge part. The La-la.. La-la-la-laa la-la-la-la-la-la .. so on. The instrumental part. I mean, come on! It's the best part of the song, anyway. And MG said something like, "Wow.. I didn't know that they use Vodka for Bitter Lemon here in Germany."

The preceding paragraph proved that I don't need alcohol to act crazy.

Sunday. 3:00am. 3rd Bar.

I don't like this bar. Let's just don't talk about it.

[I didn't realize that this post will get this long .... ]

Sunday. 5:00am. Fischmarkt.

I can barely walk. First, I'm not wearing my walking shoes, walking sandals, or whatsoever. I was wearing my 'sexy-professor-vibe' sandals. Yeah, they are still there and have that 'sexy-professor-vibe' alright. :) The sandals that I was wearing, broke once in Jakarta, and I was so afraid that I will break it here, and can't find some man with a humongous talent to repair it eventhough he's only sitting on the sidewalk.

At least that was how my sister told me when she had the sandals repaired.

Second, I could barely stay awake. Because I don't usually spend a day without sleeping for more than 8 hours.

Third, my stomach was unbelivably very gassy, due to all the soda in my drinks. And you know what you want to do when you have a really gassy stomach right? You know, similar to that thing that someone probably do before they perform some kind of a supposedly traditional performance in some so-called competition in order to make them somewhat better from the gassy feeling.

Fourth, I haven't pooed on Saturday. So go figure..

Sunday. Some minutes before 8am. NM's place.

I successfully collapsed on his couch. The part of my stomach needing some attention? We cleared that up (pun intended) at Fischmarkt in a public loo.

Moral of the story: so you know that song by Alicia Bridges? How does it go?

Oh ... I love the nightlife. I got to boogie. On the disco' roooouuuuuund oh yeeeeeeah ...

Yeah, I'm not cool since I wasn't born to be one of those people.