Saturday, June 09, 2007

Lesson # 1

The weekend fast aproacheth. Hence taking a cue from Three Beautiful Things, and meandering off in my usual style, here are Three Lessons Learnt, from last weekend:

1. After one-two-many, no matter how slow one speaks the words slur. In fact, the slower you speak the more elaborate and in-slow-motion cometh the slur. Solution: Keep mouth (and mind) shut, after three drinks. Good luck with that one though. Lemme know if it works. (Uh what did you ask..right..yeah we are working towarjeuq..I mean towardashddud, well towaaaasd..oh well see its better if yo cals..yo cald.. me on my office number over the week, here's my carth..well, here is half of it anyway..let me see if I can find the other half in my bag somewhere..(take a big gulp of the drink to drown the sheepish smile..and walk off))

2. Never buy ciggies when plans for 'a quick drink' are afoot. Because, you'll be too out-of-it to recall what happened to the yet unopened packs. Hint: left it on the table. That could be any table - in a pub, restaurant or somebody's house, but usually its a table. (Drat! Both the packs were unopened, AND I left my lighter.)

3. Giving the DJ repeated dirty looks is NOT going to change the music. Hint: a) change the venue b) have another drink.

Venues: Shalom, Stone, T's house
Drinks: Lime Margarita, Blue curacao margarita, Kiwi margarita, G & T with bitter
Food: Some sort of ridiculously small but exorbitantly priced mezze platter. Taste: don't recall!

Happy weekend all. Esp, S in W (jetlagged (but happy) I bet!), I in G (I know doll, will email soon), S in the outskirts on one side of the city (happy treadmillin), J in the outskirts on the other side of the city (c u tomorrow..been a while), and S almost in the neighbourhood (don't think, just eat).

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Sonnet # 22

And this; is simply beautiful..

My glass shall not persuade me I am old,
So long as youth and thou are of one date;
But when in thee time's furrows I behold,
Then look I death my days should expiate.
For all that beauty that doth cover thee
Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,
Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me:
How can I then be elder than thou art?
O, therefore, love, be of thyself so wary
As I, not for myself, but for thee will;
Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary
As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.
Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain;
Thou gavest me thine, not to give back again.

- William Shakespeare