drunj

Anyone who knows me knows that I don't drink. Actually, that's not entirely true. I save up a year's worth of drinking and then spend it all in one bingeful night. This is a tradition that started many years ago when the thrill-of-victory-agony-of-defeat of Bonus Day warranted a non-typical stress relief activity. And thus, my night of boozin' was born.
The good things about being a once-a-year lightweight are twofold:
1) I have no tolerance and am therefore a cheap date. After beer one, I was feeling fine.
2) It is literally a once-a-year occassion, and so everyone makes an effort to join so as not to miss it.
(before)
We started the evening at Dubliner's in the basement. Fish & chips and a Kirin draft. I remembered why I don't do this regularly: beer tastes like crap! After I finished a pint I didn't mind the taste so much, I just tried not to trip on my own feet walking out.
Next we headed to the Absolute Icebar. By now everyon's heard about this place. It's a giant -20°C freezer and everything, including the glasses, are made out of ice shipped in from Sweden. Did I mention it was cold? Even with the bar-provided jacket and gloves, it was cold. No, I mean COLD. After drinking two Absolut Vodka blends and biting a chunk out of my ice glass, we moved down the street.
(during)
Figure Complex is a randomly cool bar/club that looks like Ghost In The Shell, or a really clean, Japanese Blade Runner. The staff are all very into it as well, and after a few more beverages, Miho, Maki, Yoshimi and the rest were having a fine time...or at least I was.
(after)
By now I was well into Gettin' My Drink On, and it was time to move to Mogambo's. It was a celebration of 40Below vodka, so that meant I simply had to ring the bell (the first time I was there when Lee rang the bell, I have no recollection of that entire evening), buying everyone in the bar a shot. It sounded like a good idea at the time...

I then managed to avoid getting assaulted by Russian hostesses (see previous adventures) though I was certain that a Ukrainian lass was fondling my shaved head, only to find out it was in fact Richard. At some point I managed to outlast Simon (who had snuck back to work to get his housekeys, a better alternative to sleeping in the entrance lobby of his apartment) and did at least as much damage to Richard (who is English, and therefore a professional) as I did to myself, though I "took wee naps" (don't call it passing out) at the table, responding to the occasional "Be Strong!" with my fists at my temples, index fingers pointed horn'dly skywards, croaking a feeble "strong. like. bull."