The hills are alive with the sound of absinthe

I just had a conversation with my parents that lasted for over AN HOUR and we didn't get into a fight. If you'd have any idea who my parents are, you'd agree, that's a mighty achievement. Leaving from my parents' place though, caught me in a web of parties around the Espoo-Helsinki area. First from the Space Street birthday party up to Lönrootinkatu (my regards to Ms. Eeyore). From Valdemar's place back to Espoo. Making, of course, the necessary detours through Töölö, to get the proper ingredients for a proper party. These including a bottle of 85% Absinthe. Makes people go wild, that stuff. My hat's off to our dear Captain, for having the utter patience to stay sober, AND drive a car for the whole bloody night.

The public pedometer and the rainy jedi drank themselves silly. They had their heads stuck on the "must-hit-on-woman"-setting, which wasn't great news for the only single lady in the house. Well, I guess Absinthe doesn't work wonders with everyone. I heard it makes your head spin in ways no other type of liquor can, and that you can't get as messed up with anything else. Well what do you bloody well expect? It's 85% alcohol, you dimwits. You don't need an absinth derived magic potion to get brutally drunk if the liquid consists of mostly pure alcohol.

Anyways. I ended up at Ms. Eeyore's place again. Which is kinda cute. Waking up dead tired, two sundays in a row, because of staying up all night with a girl, sounds pretty damn manly. I mean, hours and hours of hot sweaty sex, in the morning moonlit bed chambers of a girl you hardly know, after a night of partying, does sound like a great way to spend a weekend.

Yeah. Too bad none of it really happened, though. We did have a great time getting to know each other. Not shagging, but talking about everything under the sun, and some things from not so much under the sun. Then a couple hours sleep, watching a load of Scrubs-episodes and back to dining with my parents. Not a habit I'd like to keep up, mind you. I don't want to be at my parents' place the day they decide to get a nervous breakdown and use me as a firewall.

I don't want to sound like a flower boy from some pot-saturated meeting for rasta-headed vegans. But with this inner warmth thing, when feelings that you thought were buried years ago start awakening, it's getting pretty fucking hard to uphold my usual tone of bitter cynicism. Even with my angst for women still being much the same, I wouldn't mind sacrificing my night's sleep to watch Scrubs with the little lady again.

Oh it's all so beautiful. *Dances in a field of floating roses* .. Ach bollocks. I think I'll jump in front of a train.