No Thank You, Soju!

I was already feeling very tipsy, wobbling from side to side not even Ms. Supsup can trounce.


Yeah, I had about 10 shots of soju.


That poison of a drink which made me laugh my head off when I see people who had too much of this.


For two years since it was introduced to the group, every party warranted a soju - a bottomless stock of this clear, pure toxin.


And for two years I have made fun of those guys who came, drank, puked, and got wasted after.


I remembered my first time I got wasted from another occasion with the popular Mindoro sling. It was one of the worst feelings one could ever have: the spinning vision, the nauseating state, the shaking knees, the throw-ups. Yeah, disgusting and I never wanted to feel that way again, ever.


But how could I resist such beautifully-carved topless men? Where each serving means another smile from them?


I surely can't. Especially you, you bald guy. Even though you're straight.


Imagine 10 shots. Every invite, I drink.


The most I had was five shots and that was my limit.


By the 6th I was talking very rapidly, the 7th I was walking with a little wobble, by the 8th I was talking mostly without sense and more wobbly, the 9th made me shut up and stay still, by the 10th I  found myself going to a corner and throwing up, which, by the way, was not how I wanted people there to see me.


JB, the send-off party celebrant, already passed out on the corner of a couch and JP told me he will drop DI to his home in Paranaque.


Bingo!


The party was really, really fun and this is coming from a guy who never liked KTVs and sing-along celebrations but this one was very different and festive. But I had to leave.


And so there I was inside the car, holding a plastic bag near my mouth - just in case.


Ugh. Destroyed.