in the manner of drinking
It has been awhile since I last had coffee. I don't like the taste of it, and I can't stand the very image of prancing into my local Starbucks like a complete yuppie (Starbucks, in my mind, is highly correlated with yuppiedom). I prefer tea. Actually, no - I prefer alcohol.Living in a country where drinking is a widely accepted (and practised) national sport, I have admittedly become something of an alcoholic. This is not to say that I spend all of my spare time down the pub, but when I go out, I enjoy drinking. I can drink most of my male friends under the table, and most of them drink like fishes. I have been fortunate in that my hangovers haven't been all that horrendous so far, but what I really find quite disgusting is being sick after drinking. That, luckily, has not happened thus far, and would be rather dreadful, to say the least.
Tonight we are having a massive drinks and dinner marathon - although it being only Thursday night does raise cause for concern. That, and I'm already quite worryingly 'wired', after having consumed over three cups of coffee from Starbucks this morning (yes, go ahead and call me a yuppie) in an attempt to ensure that I didn't fall into a deep slumber whilst sitting my Computing exam this morning. It worked.
On a completely different topic, those of you who have been following my tumultuous love life ought to be relieved to know that when I woke up this morning, somehow magically, the physical had managed to separate from the emotional. (And it has taken an astounding 20 days for this to occur.) I still have hope for him, but I am no longer going to wait. Just like it takes two to tango, two can also play this game. The ball's in his court. If he doesn't make a move, then I'd be tempted to make a comment in about two weeks' time about 'balls' in a different sense, or lack thereof, if you know what I mean.
Time to paint the town red.
L'Esthete @ 16:30
