(That’s me with Jet Li and Manny Pacquiao. Notice the cocky smirk, slanted posture and glazed eyes. Yep, drunk!)
After tapping out from drinking at Congo Grille, I had very few options on where to go afterwards. One: I could grab a ride with Iggy to get home, but then I imagine Jori hitting me a couple more times, or, two: I could go see where my cousin’s at, which turned out to be an Oktoberfest celebration in Metrowalk.
I mean, when you’re drunk, you’re drunk! There’s not much you can really aspire to at that point, so either drink some more, or pass out somewhere. I chose the former. (Every decision is a decision to go to TPNR, (to-po-ner, and yes, this is a nested parenthesis) or The Point of No Return, right? Welcome to the dark side.)
Bands played (Rivermaya is all that I can remember), drinks were drunk, drinkers got drunk, plastic cups formed architectural structures in various tables, and photos were taken. (P.S. I fell asleep.)
It was a great night. (P.S. Belated happy birthday, Elaine!)
(That’s me asleep. Notice the finger? That’s my defense from unwanted unpleasantness.)
(Everyone had it in for Paolo. Yih!)
(Awesome photos stolen from Qyugi)
your mind will go pi. 
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