I leaned over the window frame of my room, catching my breath just 10 pass 10 in the morning. I lit up a cigarette and drank copious amount of water. Then there was this buzzing sound, it was as if there was a faulty wiring nearby. Curious, I looked around trying to find the source. It was no defective wiring; it was a god damn bee. It was hovering just right about a meter away from me and slowly hovering towards me, staring at me. I blew smoke at it, hoping it might just chase it away, but I think that pissed it off. Sensing danger, my hand snaked its way to the window handle, seeing that the bee is gonna charge towards me, I shut the window and sure enough, the fucker gained momentum and slammed the glass. *Splat* then again…and again…(and again). Discouraged that it couldn’t beat my invisible force field it hovers away.
What the hell was that all about? Fuck, as if this hangover isn’t bad enough. That was to a certain extent, very trippy. I guess I’m not gonna drink again.
I know now Friday nights to me are random nowadays. No point planning anything on Friday except Futsal which has already died off. “Dude, we’re leaving at 8, I’m coming to pick you up now,” I said on the phone to Ryan. “Ok, ok. Gimme 15 minutes, I just need to get a quick shower…”
“Screw the shower, it’s a party in a beach-house-like mansion with a private beach, BBQ and endless supply of alcohol, no one cares! I’m coming now,” and he agreed.
So I left and drove down. I gave Tuck a call while driving and asked him to drop Ingolf’s for a quick drink before me and Ryan head off to the party. That night, it was a rare occasion that Ryan was on time when I arrive at his place and also the first time ever we arrived at Ingolf’s before Tuck did.
At the bar, after the second mug, I peeked at my watch, “Dude, it’s almost 9, we should get going soon,” I said while taking a big sip of Tiger. “OK man, let’s finish this and go,” Ryan replied and continued his story about this local girl, who was brought up in Germany, stripped down to only her panties and sucked on his brother’s toes on Thursday night at Mark’s. Amy and I left at 11pm that night. “Meng, you shouldn’t have left so early wei! You missed the action!” he said. I want to say, Dude, I got standard (no offense) and she has been nothing but a pain in the ass since she stepped in the house with her whinning and all. But instead, I went “Nah, she’s not my type and her age too,” But that didn’t stop Ryan from getting his toes sucked between her boobs and his brother doing her later in the room with them peeking hysterically and taking pictures…with the flash on! And I can’t believe they recorded that on the webcam. What the hell?
Mr. Ingolf himself stepped in after the story ended. He usually walks in around this time to check on his restaurant and do some PR with the customers. And if the mood is good, he’ll take a seat and join us at the bar. With only about an inch left of beer in my mug, I saw his arm moved and finger pointing to the beer, then making a circle movement in air and pointed that index finger onto him, poking himself several times. In a flash, the bartender grabs four chilled mugs and pours. “This is on me!” he smiles as he raised his mug getting ready to cheers. I looked at Tuck and said in hokkien, “Ee eh Sim-cheng sipek ho kim meh, huh?” which means, that he is in a good mood tonight, Tuck nodded. All that, Ryan’s eyes was still glued to the fresh mug in front of him in astonishment, seeing that he made no effort to hide his glaring smile. “Dude, how?” he said, coming back to reality. Ok, we really should go after this mug, deal?
“Deal!”
Mr. Ingolf went on about how the MPPP is being a bitch to him, preventing him from upgrading his restaurant and all. By now, drinking beer was already a chore that you dread. Like how my mom would pester me to get the trash out every night. Somehow, we were almost done with the beer and were getting ready to leave. Then Mr. Ingolf went “Hmm, gimme three Tigers and one Heineken,” and made the same gesture so the bartender knows this round is on him. "I don't like Tiger, it's too bubbly for me." he justifies.
Oh crap.
“Dude, one more?! How?! I’m getting tipsy already! We still have a party to attend!” Ryan panicked while still making no effort to hide that evident smile on his face. He fears that he’ll do a ‘Hey Darren, Happy Birthday man! Sorry can’t make it to the party’ on the phone. “We won’t lah!” I assured him, though we are already super late. This was by far the best mood I’ve seen of Mr. Ingolf. He grabs our bill, though we only ordered 1 each, he grabs a pen and scribbles something and passed the bill back to us. Curious, we peeked and saw that he had written ‘HH’. Wah, we get Happy Hour rates? At 10? Sweeeeeet.
“It’s 10 already?!?!?!” Ryan shouts subtly. We cheers and downed our beers.
So this time, we sprinted down to the casher and paid our Happy Hour rated beer, say our goodbyes and thanks and sprinted to my car. We were so high by now that we were imitating skateboard tricks, without skateboards. Air skateboarding, I did a 180º spin and a tail grab while Ryan almost got his 360º nose grab. People might think we were Yamakazis.
I can’t believe we drove all the way to Kampung Nelayan, which is way after where Mutiara Hotel is, only to find out that the venue was waaay before the hotel. We over-shot by at least 5km. 2 ½ hours late, we finally arrive. With Audrey and Kenny greeting us at the front. “You guys got papers ah?” Kenny inquired. Ah crap, shit. I left mine at home. “Nevermind-lah, we drink!”
Hell yeah.
Being me, when there’s free-flow, I lose myself. My first drink there was a Tiger and I downed the whole can with birthday boy, Darren, and Ryan. It’s a tradition to do that. Then I had three Heineken, vodka screwdriver, whisky coke, then vodka, then whisky, Malibu, vodka, whisky, Malibu, half a can of ‘who’s beer is this?’, a sip of plain coke, neat whisky which I drank from the outside bottom of the paper cup cos it leaked and two more whisky coke. Somewhere in between Amy arrived with Rob and I remember some crazy photo taking session with Joanne’s camera with ridiculous poses. “This one damn good lah! HAHAHAH,” Joanne said knowing that I had just made a fool of myself by doing that pose. Then Amy took a seat next to me and went, “Wah, I need a drink real bad,” even though she was already holding a cup of whisky. CHEERS! Before I knew it, the kick finally sets in, and I knew I had blown it again. I asked Ju, “Where’s Ryan? I need to go before I pass out,” Ryan ran into the crib dripping wet and topless, “Fuh, fuckers just threw me into the sea, and it’s not even my birthday!” Well dude, consider this your belated birthday getting thrown into the sea tradition.
I don’t remember much what happened later, but I remember seeing Melissa driving my car with Audrey on the passenger seat, “Woa, I haven’t sat in the back seat on my car for a long time, damn small-lah” I mumbled. Ju was following us from the back along with Ryan. By now, I get thrown off easily. They stopped at Ferringhi Beach so that I could barf and then I was holding my socks, things appear to be random now. Why was I holding my socks?
Surprisingly, I could still direct them to my house, which isn’t easy ‘cos I live too far up this hill with no straight roads. And sure enough, the minute I went in, I went blank and passed out.
What the hell was that all about? Fuck, as if this hangover isn’t bad enough. That was to a certain extent, very trippy. I guess I’m not gonna drink again.
I know now Friday nights to me are random nowadays. No point planning anything on Friday except Futsal which has already died off. “Dude, we’re leaving at 8, I’m coming to pick you up now,” I said on the phone to Ryan. “Ok, ok. Gimme 15 minutes, I just need to get a quick shower…”
“Screw the shower, it’s a party in a beach-house-like mansion with a private beach, BBQ and endless supply of alcohol, no one cares! I’m coming now,” and he agreed.
So I left and drove down. I gave Tuck a call while driving and asked him to drop Ingolf’s for a quick drink before me and Ryan head off to the party. That night, it was a rare occasion that Ryan was on time when I arrive at his place and also the first time ever we arrived at Ingolf’s before Tuck did.
At the bar, after the second mug, I peeked at my watch, “Dude, it’s almost 9, we should get going soon,” I said while taking a big sip of Tiger. “OK man, let’s finish this and go,” Ryan replied and continued his story about this local girl, who was brought up in Germany, stripped down to only her panties and sucked on his brother’s toes on Thursday night at Mark’s. Amy and I left at 11pm that night. “Meng, you shouldn’t have left so early wei! You missed the action!” he said. I want to say, Dude, I got standard (no offense) and she has been nothing but a pain in the ass since she stepped in the house with her whinning and all. But instead, I went “Nah, she’s not my type and her age too,” But that didn’t stop Ryan from getting his toes sucked between her boobs and his brother doing her later in the room with them peeking hysterically and taking pictures…with the flash on! And I can’t believe they recorded that on the webcam. What the hell?
Mr. Ingolf himself stepped in after the story ended. He usually walks in around this time to check on his restaurant and do some PR with the customers. And if the mood is good, he’ll take a seat and join us at the bar. With only about an inch left of beer in my mug, I saw his arm moved and finger pointing to the beer, then making a circle movement in air and pointed that index finger onto him, poking himself several times. In a flash, the bartender grabs four chilled mugs and pours. “This is on me!” he smiles as he raised his mug getting ready to cheers. I looked at Tuck and said in hokkien, “Ee eh Sim-cheng sipek ho kim meh, huh?” which means, that he is in a good mood tonight, Tuck nodded. All that, Ryan’s eyes was still glued to the fresh mug in front of him in astonishment, seeing that he made no effort to hide his glaring smile. “Dude, how?” he said, coming back to reality. Ok, we really should go after this mug, deal?
“Deal!”
Mr. Ingolf went on about how the MPPP is being a bitch to him, preventing him from upgrading his restaurant and all. By now, drinking beer was already a chore that you dread. Like how my mom would pester me to get the trash out every night. Somehow, we were almost done with the beer and were getting ready to leave. Then Mr. Ingolf went “Hmm, gimme three Tigers and one Heineken,” and made the same gesture so the bartender knows this round is on him. "I don't like Tiger, it's too bubbly for me." he justifies.
Oh crap.
“Dude, one more?! How?! I’m getting tipsy already! We still have a party to attend!” Ryan panicked while still making no effort to hide that evident smile on his face. He fears that he’ll do a ‘Hey Darren, Happy Birthday man! Sorry can’t make it to the party’ on the phone. “We won’t lah!” I assured him, though we are already super late. This was by far the best mood I’ve seen of Mr. Ingolf. He grabs our bill, though we only ordered 1 each, he grabs a pen and scribbles something and passed the bill back to us. Curious, we peeked and saw that he had written ‘HH’. Wah, we get Happy Hour rates? At 10? Sweeeeeet.
“It’s 10 already?!?!?!” Ryan shouts subtly. We cheers and downed our beers.
So this time, we sprinted down to the casher and paid our Happy Hour rated beer, say our goodbyes and thanks and sprinted to my car. We were so high by now that we were imitating skateboard tricks, without skateboards. Air skateboarding, I did a 180º spin and a tail grab while Ryan almost got his 360º nose grab. People might think we were Yamakazis.
I can’t believe we drove all the way to Kampung Nelayan, which is way after where Mutiara Hotel is, only to find out that the venue was waaay before the hotel. We over-shot by at least 5km. 2 ½ hours late, we finally arrive. With Audrey and Kenny greeting us at the front. “You guys got papers ah?” Kenny inquired. Ah crap, shit. I left mine at home. “Nevermind-lah, we drink!”
Hell yeah.
Being me, when there’s free-flow, I lose myself. My first drink there was a Tiger and I downed the whole can with birthday boy, Darren, and Ryan. It’s a tradition to do that. Then I had three Heineken, vodka screwdriver, whisky coke, then vodka, then whisky, Malibu, vodka, whisky, Malibu, half a can of ‘who’s beer is this?’, a sip of plain coke, neat whisky which I drank from the outside bottom of the paper cup cos it leaked and two more whisky coke. Somewhere in between Amy arrived with Rob and I remember some crazy photo taking session with Joanne’s camera with ridiculous poses. “This one damn good lah! HAHAHAH,” Joanne said knowing that I had just made a fool of myself by doing that pose. Then Amy took a seat next to me and went, “Wah, I need a drink real bad,” even though she was already holding a cup of whisky. CHEERS! Before I knew it, the kick finally sets in, and I knew I had blown it again. I asked Ju, “Where’s Ryan? I need to go before I pass out,” Ryan ran into the crib dripping wet and topless, “Fuh, fuckers just threw me into the sea, and it’s not even my birthday!” Well dude, consider this your belated birthday getting thrown into the sea tradition.
I don’t remember much what happened later, but I remember seeing Melissa driving my car with Audrey on the passenger seat, “Woa, I haven’t sat in the back seat on my car for a long time, damn small-lah” I mumbled. Ju was following us from the back along with Ryan. By now, I get thrown off easily. They stopped at Ferringhi Beach so that I could barf and then I was holding my socks, things appear to be random now. Why was I holding my socks?
Surprisingly, I could still direct them to my house, which isn’t easy ‘cos I live too far up this hill with no straight roads. And sure enough, the minute I went in, I went blank and passed out.
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