Sixteen days of no blogging? Ah. Just a little bit more and I’ll be blogging as sporadic as Markku! 😛 I know the excuse is getting old, but really, I’ve never been this busy since two years ago, when I had to work triple time in order to help my dad pay for my sister’s expensive hospitalization bills and medicines at the psych ward of Medical City. Good thing my being busy is for a much happier reason this time around.

I wanted to blog this sooner, but during my free time last week, I had been indisposed. Really, really indisposed. That was a three-day hangover I nursed, dude! Nothing but a very embarrassing jolt (not to mention a pounding headache) can remind me that alcohol can make a workaholic unproductive. For three days, I’ve moaned and groaned at how painful my head was. Of course, I couldn’t work properly, how could I? And now, I have another load of backlog, not to mention the planned load of impending deadlines this coming week.

What was planned to be a quiet (well, if it can be considered quiet) night of gossip unexpectedly turned out to be partying and booze I haven’t had since college. Oh, and don’t forget spewing my stomach’s contents on the table. Man, I haven’t been that drunk for a long time. And to think I used to down beer and hard drinks as if they’re water—I guess I’m no longer the drunkard that I used to be 😛 Well, I suppose my little spectacle at the end of the Motorola party wasn’t the worst—I didn’t have the strange need to lie down in the middle of the street 😀

Marc, my husband, was a bit surprised at how unconcerned my dad reacted after he told him about my little drunk spectacle. I guess he was just used to seeing me drunk years ago. How could he not? He and my late uncle frequently joined me and my friends for regular drinking sessions weekly. I even remember the numerous arguments we had over ownership of cigarettes, lighters, and bottles of beer and hard drinks stashed in the refrigerator. My dad had this unfortunate habit of reminding me that he technically paid for my cigarettes and beer whenever he ran out of his own “stock,” since I didn’t have a job yet. It would have been better if he just asked, you know.

But then again, my dad hadn’t had the misfortune of having me puke on him, unlike my dear husband. Well, as the priest said during our marriage ceremony, “for better and for worse!” As I have told Juned, who was kind enough to tell me what else I did during my semi-conscious state, what Marc did was just a display of unconditional love.

Anyway, if I puked on you that night, just raise your hand. And I’ll puke on you even more! Hahahaha