Secret Agent Girl

Apparently, it is possible to go through Christmas completely drunk.

What the hell man, since twelve days before Christmas I have been consistently drunk every weekend leading up to the holiday. Vickna’s visit completely threw my plans of having a sober Christmas Eve. Seriously, you’d think knowing the guy for 11 years, I’d have learned by now. The discovery of a bottle of Chivas Regal wiped out all memory of the extended family’s Christmas Day dinner (thank you, Jesus?). Boxing Day, well, let’s not even go there. I’m hoping the one picture of me on the floor laughing that Anu took is just it - one picture.

Oh god, I need a new liver. While I’m at it, can I have a new brain, and can I exchange the heart for, uh, well, y’all can have it for free?

My hangover is gone, and I’m not feeling so drained. Friday was absolutely insane. There were a few shockers at the big Christmas party, and I totally wished my senior had attended because she would totally have gone :O with me.

Those of us who went were suitably inebriated within an hour, despite having a decent lunch and drinking lots of water. We ended up on the dance floor, only for me to spy 5 employees we brought over from India getting down to the music. It wasn’t even half-decent dancing. It was the kind that would make you lol or go :O

I went :O and if I wasn’t so sloshed and contending with my own issues of staying on my feet, I would have totally recorded their little jigs and turns for my senior to see. At this rate if I tell her when she gets back from her honeymoon, she’ll accuse me of being so drunk I started to hallucinate. But mommy, it’s true! And it was horrifying/lolarious!

But that was just a small, separate part of what had transpired at the party. I was very glad to see L again, and this time she could drink, as she was pregnant the same time last year. She kept me in one piece, told me to relax and go with the flow, and stopped me from drinking my way to oblivion. She’s the only one at work who listened to my laundry list of gaffes and foibles in the last four months, and I did my best to take her advice, even if it meant putting up with her smirks on the dance floor.

Like L said, I need to start embracing emotional change instead of running away like I always do, using work/study/dance/etc as an excuse. I can only do my best to take her advice, and hopefully with her guidance (and smirking, sigh) I might be able to do just that.

“Who’s Bloc Party?”
“WAT.”

Look, I may have heard a couple of songs here and there, but I would never have been able to actually name the band. My sheer laziness at attending proper gigs comes from a) not being able sit down and b) horrifying fangirls/boys. Sitting down is very important to someone who spends 99.99% of her time in high heels.

Anyway, presented by the opportunity to attend a real, ‘proper’ gig last week, I obliged, thinking I’d just end up the innocent bystander laughing at fanboyish tendencies.

The morning after agreeing to tag along, I received a cd containing Bloc Party’s first album and half of their second. I did look at it in slight distaste, expecting the the cd to radiate emo. Bypassing my usual morning serving of Spamalot, I gave Bloc Party a chance.

Well, I was assured my compadre has some taste in music, I did like enjoy it quite a bit. Although I horrified him by saying they sounded like Coldplay at times bwahahaha!! Though to be honest at times they reminded me very much of the Smashing Pumpkins. The play of lyrics with some of their songs was very, very captivating.

The gig was at an open-air park, with the gates opening a good few hours before the main act came on. We sat around in the sun, occassionally getting up to find more alcohol or food. The opening acts were nothing to shout about, though.

The sucky thing about a rock gig is when the filler music switched to Bootylicious, wanting get down was not a good idea. But you are meant to get up and shake it to Bootylicious! That is the whole point, otherwise why play it?! Also I think I was in a slightly rebellious mode, surrounded by a mix of rockers and rednecks, the urge to go all hip hop was too great. Maybe even to prove that yes, I listened to more than ‘boring’ music.

When Bloc Party finally came on, it was close to 9pm. Got dragged to my feet and we managed to squeeze into the edge of the crowd. There was a mosh pit going on as well. If it wasn’t a school night I’m sure my compadre would have been suitably drunk and in the thick of it. And I’d have enough blackmail pictures to buy Balenciaga bags in every model and colour!

Having said that, the loser bought a concert t-shirt in a rather hideous colour.

The performance was a lot of fun. They’re a great band live, I could not have asked for a better first live gig experience. I recognized some of their songs, but not knowing all was okay, because you could still get into it. There were some pretty tall rednecks in front so they blocked my view at times. Compadre tried to point out the lead guitarist, and I totally could not see anything so he had to lift me up at one point.

We left just as they came back onstage for the encore. Avoiding the nightmarish traffic getting out was a priority. After all, we are working professionals. My compadre had seen what he needed to see, so he was a happy fanboy.

We were so dead on our feet today, though.

Yesterday, as the waves drifted around my ankles, my heart felt heavy, lost.

Today, I think I stepped out of my comfort zone.

Reading about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, a part of me was glad that I didn’t personally know any of the troops who serve there, because when I read about casualties or deaths, it is a constant reminder that it is high time those guys came home. Unfortunately, this cannot be solved quickly, even with President-Elect Obama in the hotseat come January.

That same part of me also forgets that my cousin serves in the Italian air force.

You know how you always think stuff happens to other people, and then when stuff happens to someone close to you, you somehow cannot believe it? Yeah, like that.

Francesco and I speak infrequently, or when the Azzurri are on a bad run that makes you want to rant to someone who cares, or at least shares your passion of wanting to bitchslap Roberto Donadoni. It never crosses my mind to ask how he is doing at his job, despite being a fighter pilot. Who wouldn’t think being a fighter pilot is the coolest job ever?

Well, it’s the coolest job ever if you don’t serve the US or your country isn’t a member of the ISAF. Unfortunately, Italy have a 2000-strong troop presence in Afghanistan, and Francesco will be joining them.

He’s probably part of the troop surge brought on by the increased violence. ISAF have some pages noting the presence of troops in each region, although they are quite broad and don’t mean much, so who knows where his regiment will serve.

Francesco, take care of yourself, and come home safe. We shall speak soon, when the Azzurri next play.

Fixed my shoes today. Took it to a recommended cobbler and he fixed it in no time. FOR FREE.

\o/