eesh

Wednesday is turning out to be one of those gloomy, low-key days that often occur about twice a week. Considering it's the middle of the week, that's not too bad. Though, I was expecting this week to be quite a shoo-in to the long weekend. Ah well, something about being unable to eat a cake.

All things considered, I'd have to find someone else to occupy my time. Which isn't easy given my exquisite tastes (laugh, and be damned). Yeah, it's always an issue for me, getting rid of someone from my head. There have been one or two cases of extended hauntings, months after I decided to move on. That's just the way my brain works, I guess. I fall easily, take ages to dust myself off, and then willingly tumble down again. Hence, this overwhelming annoyance with my idiocy.

Funny, some might be under the impression that I've broken up again. That impression would be wrong, to say the least. I'm just being fucking childish about not getting my way. Of which, I've done nothing. I hint, therefore I expect a positive response. I gesture, so all attention should be heaped on me. Eesh, how do I stand myself, I do not know.

What next? Don't bloody know. I'll probably be all roses and butterflies sometime next weekend. But maybe I should stop playing these foolish games. Blah blah blah, should this and should that and shouldn't those. Should can take a walk for all I care. A very long walk.

Time for a smoke.

ever so rarely, i can be an idiot

I guess the current 'campaign' is heading nowhere; nowhere near where I want to be. I'm oscillating between knocking my head on the wall and knocking my head on the table. Either way, it's knock, knock and yeah, knock. In many ways, I should know better. I really should. Is it any wonder I have all these bite marks?

So now that I've ascertained that the wall in front of me is way tougher than the one they had in Berlin, it's back to the drawing board. Knock, knock and knock. I could easily avoided all this balderdash if I'd screwed my head on a little bit tighter. And been more sensible about things. I don't jump, I plunge. And plan out my moves after I'm below the surface.

Okay, that's the end of the self-recriminating rants. Onwards march, I reckon. First on the agenda, a clear head. Hmm, perhaps something else should be first. Alright then, first on the list, ermm, a make-over. Yeah, that sounds like what most self-help wannabes would regurgitate. Next, go out more often. The streak stands at 8 consecutive weeks; that's two months' worth of weekends spent polishing the bars, sweeping the dance floors and gargling my mouth with ultra-sweet fizzies. Which reminds me, I really need to find a healthier alternative to the Cokes and Ginger Ales I've been guzzling down; I'm thinking Soda Water. I'm sure it has minute amounts of sugar and trace calories. I hope. Third, and most importantly, fuck everything. I'm just doing it my way. Like Frankie said. Yeah.

Once I've done all that, and patted myself on the back, looking rather smug, then I'll go clear my head.

All which means there'll probably be a similar epiphany within the next couple of months.

Yeah.

capsquare, but in lower case

Found: the world's most expensive beer.

I kid you not. Headed down to CapSquare over the weekend and made this stunning discovery. Well, I was stunned. Firstly, by the fact that the much-hyped about clubbing locale was anything but hyper. It was 'd' to tha 'ed'; dead. The only outlet with a semblance of Saturday night normalcy was Red Square, which is apparently KL's pioneer vodka bar. Every club these days seems to claim a 'first'; first to be this, and first to have that. And most of the time, after experiencing the club for the first time, it's back to the first impression one gets when entering the joint - BFD.

Anyways, I digress. Due to the zombie-like atmosphere at Modesto's and Urban Attic, I hopped across the impractically-built pavement and waltzed up to the entrance. As usual, the door bitches were anything but helpful. After repeating my question for the second time, the magic number comes trickling out; RM 50 cover charge, one drink provided. I mean, are these people living in 2009, or still stuck in 2007?

And then they seek sympathy by talking about how the economic slump is affecting business. Keep up those ridiculous prices, and it won't just be the economy that's slumping, mate. I have to say, sometimes I reckon KL coughs out clubs at a faster rate than Dubai erects hotels. It's stupefying how more and more clubs are littering every nook and cranny in town. Almost all advertise some form of uniqueness, all end up serving the same old roti kosong air suam. You name it; winter bar, ice bar, fire bar, water fountains, pole dancing; gimmicks which eventually become a bore, after a couple of months.

And since we're on this matter, it's mighty annoying to find 'working girls' infiltrating some of the trendier clubs these days. Where they once operated in Hard Rock and Beach Club, now they've even penetrated TwentyOne. I doubt any decent chap is going to be overly-attracted to a person who's lazing at the bar, and who's been sipping from the same drink for the past two hours; emphasis is on 'decent'. All they do is take up valuable bar space, which is a priceless commodity in rather small joints.

And leopard print dresses? Major time warp alert.