I ate so much at last night’s dinner at the Intercon that I slept almost as soon as J dropped me off… and woke up 17 hours later.
It was the ultimate Baboy Syndrome*. My whole body, especially my eyes, was so puffy that I could hardly move from the bed. No buffet dinners for me until next year, thank you very much.
Elaine and I went to a prospective venue for our joint birthday party with Ryan and friends. Apparently, Saffie has a friend, Ken, who lives there and said he could sponsor us for the event. We loved the place, the (nonexistent) rent, the ambience, the bar, and the Contraband. Hahaha!
We’re even going to have a band!
Since we junked the costume party idea, we were back to our original dilemma: modifying the guestlist because we can’t show little kids the awful truth. Adults–their nice titos and titas and ates and kuyas–drink Contraband when they’re not watching.
Besides, I refuse to have accidentally drunk three year olds wandering to the pool.
* Baboy means “pig”. Pigs always sleep after eating. Hehe.