Dutch Courage

In vino nobis veritas. (In wine there is truth.)

Not that I couldn't agree more but skip the wine part and replace it with beer. Destination: Oyster Boy. No life-defining whys and wherefores, just a spur-of-the-moment escapism from the travails and theatrics of American Express training causing our brain cells to have gummed up and gone phut. Universal antidote? Beer - polar cold and a bucketful of beer.

What: A drinking-gossiping-venting-cursing soirée.



Where: Oyster Boy (Araneta Center, Cubao)

When: Wee Hours of June 27th

Who: Joie - a surfing freak, the queen of opinions with a cocksure and unyielding confidence. An advocate of antithesis who can take the wind out of an egoist's sails.

Dhei - a registered nurse, cupcake maker and a masseuse all rolled into one whose saga of love could invigorate Wong Kar Wai to translate it into film.

Jimi - The Potentate, whose subtle intoxication was a solid, noteworthy veneer and whose Dutch courage discovery was an epiphany.

Critical Minutes of the Soirée:

1) The uncovering of our collective passion to tennis. Players mentioned were Andre Agassi (whose children are sure to be the next prodigies), Michael Chang (whatever happened to him?) and the Williams sisters (...the domination continues).



2) Rantings of our collective loath to a schmuck whose ghetto accent and impropriety are a pain in the ass, to an insecure, self-declared poet whose poetry is devoid of depth and social relevance and whose poetic license has gone overboard, to a self-anointed addict whose proclamation was delivered nonchalantly we concluded she is just desperate of a "shining moment", and to a self-confessed alcoholic who is probably dimwitted to the twelve-step program because basically she is not an "alcoholic", just a savvy drinker.

Query: Is exaggeration the new cool? Whoever said that must be disturbed and should take a mouthful of Valiums.

3) Of Joie and Dhei's plea that I should traverse again the road of love (of perdition, I muttered).



After two buckets of beer, a plateful of yummy french fries and chicken wings and aplenty of funny revelations and abominations, we called it quits. Whatever happened in Oyster Boy does not really end there. It may wind up in a blog. Now, that's Dutch courage!