I like eating dinner late, because I always thought of dinner as an affair that should stretch until late into the night, cajoled by good food and conversation, lubricated with drinks. You theoretically should be able to finish dinner, go home and fall asleep instantly; or hit the bar/club after dinner at an appropriate midnight.
But I think you will be hearing a lot less of party in this blog. I have concluded I DO NOT like drinking, and although I am pretty good at drinking, I DO NOT appreciate having my chin pushed up by some 27-year-old man-child to receive a vodka bottle shot. 27 years… dude man, that’s like my age! Now I have this searing hangover, and I had to go get wanton noodles and Pocari Sweat to grease my tummy and rehydrate, respectively, all by myself like Bridget Jones when she was all by herself.
And soon I have to shower and then get into the office……… and.. and…
Gah, partying is so not worth it man. I solemnly swear I’m finally too old to party. Hanging up my party shoes!