It's St.Patrick's day and everyone is thrilled to party. Well not literally everyone. There are still some sub-groups that refuse to join the hell's dinner, like us, Malaysians. We'd better lock ourselves in our room before someone sneak in to grab a coffee, or worse to get laid.
St. Patrick Days is designed for working bees to chill out for an evening and have an experience of harmless fun. If they wear condoms throughout. So much for a reverend's tribute day. Yes, a reverend.
Everyone is getting drunk and I can smell the nastiest whiff of devil's breathe straight from the blinds. Which explains the slop of puke right there before the doorway. Oh! I feel nauseous! It's like I'm a tenant from the street of bars and whores. Trust me, it's not a decent sight.
I know. These people must be wondering why we repel from these events. In the fit of drunkenness and oblivion and ignorance they won't believe that we Muslims do not drink. Or have open sex with anyone. Which is totally not cool for them.
A part of me was whimpering, begging me to join the parties. Oh, put aside the spirit, I can feast my eyes on hot blondies we got here. That's fine, he said.
But another part of me disagree. These social parties are just instruments to drag me lick a taste of hell that will feed my insatiable 'hunger'. You know, when they serve you something you've been keeping away from, and suddenly it's all laid on the table. You'll grab on it without second thought, won't you.
That's it. I'm still weighting the reasons. Party is still on. Tonnes of hot and horny people are waiting to get wet. Just pray I'll keep strong.
