Everything I keep denying... Order & Progress. Another Brazilian night. Last second decision to join. Eye candy too sweet to resist. Service sucks. No fucking lemon, mate? No lime? Tequila's pointless. No fucking orange juice means no vodka either. Far out. A real reason to whinge.
Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce to you, from the deepest hell — Mr Jim Beam and Mr Johnnie Walker. It's to be their night and their night only!
Trying my best to have fun, giving up only when band starts playing Bob Marley. It's been too much. I have to make progress, for god's sake.
"A party that is not extraordinary is unworthy of being a party at all" — someone hints with a grinning apology to Oscar Wilde, and I humbly tend to agree. Checking two more joints in a quick succession, both packed with Lebs and wankers. No avail.
This night is doomed. Won't pick up even Madeleine Albright's uglier sister. Won't get anywhere. Time to head home.
Saturday's too hot for anything but staying in bed. Reading, watching videos, catching up on sleep.
Finally time for order and progress.
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