Finally hit the "View Drafts" button and found a piece that should have seen the light of day back in the days when I still inhabited AMK.
Recently, my block underwent a flurry of touch up and maintenance works. The water tank on the roof was cleaned up, new water pipes replaced the old ones [with a horrid full day cut water supply], vandalism scrubbed off the walls [loanshark msgs] and common areas given a good cut+wash+blow+colour.
I only managed to notice one of these changes though immediately because it was ultimately screaming for attention. I mean what kinda bozos paint a 2 foot by 2 foot square onto concrete? It's almost like putting up a sign saying "Someone fucked this up, and we repaired it with the most economical thing we could do". View the disaster:
Now what exactly was below that painted square? Ah, for this we need to rewind time back to the days when I was 19 and stumbling home dead drunk almost every single time I managed to get off the booze. It was a fateful night shared by the three of us. SOHK, myself and the shortie [unnamed because he's easily identifiable by the undergrads who read me]. I still can't recollect where we went to get the boozing done, what I do recall vividly was the aftermath.
Without any trust that the shortie could get back without being stretchered back, I offered my home as a pit stop to rest the weary bones and mind and to set off in the morning. I live on the 8th floor. That's a 4 flight of stairs climb from the 6th. He managed to hold it in up the first 3 but gave up before the final ascent. I would describe the final artwork on the floor as a "splat". If you can't picture a splat, here's something it would have looked like except the insides were of course half digested Chinese seafood.
So, the tale continues with shortie puking his guts out [at least that's what we thought]. We ended up in my flat and my mum graciously puts out this massive bed in the hall for all 3 drunkards to rest our heads. I insisted on sleeping on my own bed, it is not a good feeling to share a resting place with 2 others whose alcohol breath could get you to puke too.
So, shortie lay down, for a maximum of 3 seconds. He turned over on his side and went at it again. No matter how much you've drunk, this is the kind of episode that just kicks you right out of that illusionary state and into the real world. In Tamil, suuru thelinjitdu. Me and SOHK scramble to move the infidel to the washroom region where puke is easily washed away and need not be recalled in the morning in sober aftermath. Shortie lies at the entrance of my toilet, puking air for the next 15 minutes. The mum is woken up as usual [she's a light sleeper] and she does some minor clean up at the bed area.
Entire saga finishes like 45 fuckin minutes later with all 3 of us nestled into that huge mattress waiting for sunlight so everyone can haul ass and not face the matriarch in embarassment.
Lesson learnt? Don't throw up in places where "I know what you did last summer" syndrome hits you. Instead, observe the subtle steps you can undertake to ensure an evidence-less puke fest.
1. Select more appropriate location such as this:
2. View benefits of location:
a. Over the railing food particles and liquids do not litter the ground floor but instead the 7th floor parapet.
b. Parapet is a habitat for sparrows and the occasional mynah. All egested food is quickly ingested by 9 am the next morning.
c. In the event, that very very drunkeness prevents proper aiming over the railing, fertilize the flower pots instead. Soil is a very useful tool. Dig deep and cover after use.
Adieu!
Recently, my block underwent a flurry of touch up and maintenance works. The water tank on the roof was cleaned up, new water pipes replaced the old ones [with a horrid full day cut water supply], vandalism scrubbed off the walls [loanshark msgs] and common areas given a good cut+wash+blow+colour.
I only managed to notice one of these changes though immediately because it was ultimately screaming for attention. I mean what kinda bozos paint a 2 foot by 2 foot square onto concrete? It's almost like putting up a sign saying "Someone fucked this up, and we repaired it with the most economical thing we could do". View the disaster:
Now what exactly was below that painted square? Ah, for this we need to rewind time back to the days when I was 19 and stumbling home dead drunk almost every single time I managed to get off the booze. It was a fateful night shared by the three of us. SOHK, myself and the shortie [unnamed because he's easily identifiable by the undergrads who read me]. I still can't recollect where we went to get the boozing done, what I do recall vividly was the aftermath.
Without any trust that the shortie could get back without being stretchered back, I offered my home as a pit stop to rest the weary bones and mind and to set off in the morning. I live on the 8th floor. That's a 4 flight of stairs climb from the 6th. He managed to hold it in up the first 3 but gave up before the final ascent. I would describe the final artwork on the floor as a "splat". If you can't picture a splat, here's something it would have looked like except the insides were of course half digested Chinese seafood.
So, the tale continues with shortie puking his guts out [at least that's what we thought]. We ended up in my flat and my mum graciously puts out this massive bed in the hall for all 3 drunkards to rest our heads. I insisted on sleeping on my own bed, it is not a good feeling to share a resting place with 2 others whose alcohol breath could get you to puke too.
So, shortie lay down, for a maximum of 3 seconds. He turned over on his side and went at it again. No matter how much you've drunk, this is the kind of episode that just kicks you right out of that illusionary state and into the real world. In Tamil, suuru thelinjitdu. Me and SOHK scramble to move the infidel to the washroom region where puke is easily washed away and need not be recalled in the morning in sober aftermath. Shortie lies at the entrance of my toilet, puking air for the next 15 minutes. The mum is woken up as usual [she's a light sleeper] and she does some minor clean up at the bed area.
Entire saga finishes like 45 fuckin minutes later with all 3 of us nestled into that huge mattress waiting for sunlight so everyone can haul ass and not face the matriarch in embarassment.
Lesson learnt? Don't throw up in places where "I know what you did last summer" syndrome hits you. Instead, observe the subtle steps you can undertake to ensure an evidence-less puke fest.
1. Select more appropriate location such as this:
2. View benefits of location:a. Over the railing food particles and liquids do not litter the ground floor but instead the 7th floor parapet.
b. Parapet is a habitat for sparrows and the occasional mynah. All egested food is quickly ingested by 9 am the next morning.
c. In the event, that very very drunkeness prevents proper aiming over the railing, fertilize the flower pots instead. Soil is a very useful tool. Dig deep and cover after use.
Adieu!
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