Thus it ends with brewed malt... for now

Talk about a long winded week. Recap.

Monday, 10th
Woke up half blurry as usual, still tasting the aftermath from the road-side burger which I whored for. Pissed. Squeezed a fair amount of toothpaste into my mouth and brushed my stained teeth by the window, voyuering chics jogging in the park opposite my house, jiggling their assets. Showered. Shaved. Dressed up. Kissed my bolster goodbye and head to the office.

Sorted some working papers out and left for a half-day seminar. More like a food-marathon. Morning coffee with finger food were served. Cakes and shit. 2 hours later, its a coffee break. More food. This time, fried noodles, mini-pizzas, cheese cakes and loads more. 2 hours later. Lunch.

-Now thats only a half-day seminar. People in this part of the world live to eat. We eat on every occasion. We dine in weddings. We dine when our kids turn a full month. We dine when our kids turn 1. We eat when they turn 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7... 30, 40, 50, 65. We eat at their funerals too. During festivities, we eat all day long.-

Got back to the office, bloated. Tried to lift my 3 tonne arm. Failed.

Tuesday, 11th
Repeated the same shitty morning repertoire.

Sorted more paperwork. Left for a full day seminar. Another feasting galore.
Menu: 1 morning coffee
2 coffee breaks
1 sit-down lunch

Another bloated day.

Wednesday, 12th
Again, the same repertoire.

This time, not seminar, but a meeting with a client.
The agenda: Proposal of the most efficient business structure for client's restructuring.
And boy was I bombarded with loads of question. This is what happens when your boss is out of town and you got to handle a meeting by yourself.

Thursday, 13th
Repertoire, repertoire, and a hot chic jogging in the park.

3pm - Deadline for client's annual report. And I'm still compiling the balance sheet items. I'm so screwed.

Friday, 14th
There wasn't any hot chic jogging in the park, much to my despair. The one thing that brightens my day, not there.

No deadline, no seminars. But a pre-graduation cocktail party. Smiles, small talks.

The food, to die for. Roast lamb, beef *something something*, salmon platter, fettuccini cabonara etc wine etc wine etc.

Went home, bloated.

Saturday, 15th
Up earlier than usual. There wasn't any time to spot the hot chic in the park. Last minute polishing of shoes. Pissed. Showered. Shaved. Suit up. Time for my 4-button suit to play its part on me.

Got to Hilton just in time. Graduation ceremony. No, I'm not the one graduating. I'm the slave for the day. Quite a well paid one though. Again, refreshment is served.

A friend was whining all the way through the function, as she was "converted" as one of the VVIPs, "forced to make small talks with old geezers", as how she puts it.

Ended up in the cinema with her and another friend, for Into The Blue. Paul Walker for the lady, Jessica Alba for the 2 men.

Iced vanilla latte to end the day.

Sunday, 16th
For the first time in the week, I get my well deserved sleep. But was then woken up by some a**hole who screams through the phone. Wrong number. What the f*ck.

Spent the day doing nothing. Apart from eating.

Evening comes, a wedding reception. More food. Cold plate, sharks' fin, duck stew, pork stew with bun, baked salt prawns, brocolli with shrooms and ended with apple pie. Not to mention the free flow of beer. I think I downed half a jug before even the first dish comes up. Few bottoms up with the groom and by the end of the evening, I think I forgot my own name for a moment.

Which goes to say... Beer... Good....