sobriety is relative

Ever since I fell in love again, life has been nothing but a bed of roses framed by a star-filled canvass.
Yeah right! Ah well, at least there's still one in a million chance...
Hmm, this turn of events (also known as subject of infatuation) shows that I've progressed from tall blondes (farewell Maria, it's game, set and match).

Back to serious business (matter of relativity, of course). Okay, I'll begrudgingly admit, Hartamas isn't that bad a place to jolly about. Two consecutive nights there, and I'll say this much: it has its attractions. In terms of sights and space; the latter referring to, of course, the relative ample free parking available during the earlier part of the night. And the clubbing hive of Hartamas is undoubtedly Supper Club. Sit down at the mamak opposite (next to 7-Eleven) and you'll nod in agreement. Really.

Thus far, I'm pleased with my resolve. Barring certain idiots who have tried spiking my drinks, I've kept away from alcoholic beverages with relative ease. True, it takes more effort to loosen up the tongue and body movement, but slowly and surely, I'm getting the hang of it. So maybe I'll treat myself to a binge sometime in December this year. If only I could say the same of cigarettes.

Then again, I said I was quitting drinks, I didn't say I was becoming a saint.