Boracay New Year’s Digest # 4

Dec 31, 2011 by

Woke up without a hang over, surprised. I think I consumed about 2 dozens of beer and by now I can see your face looking like: WHAT?! And he does not have the powertummy?! Gift, my friends. Gift.

I had lunch at Talipapa again. We had diwal (angel wings) and squid and prawns. Then I went to spend the rest of the afternoon with Resy at Aria frontbeach bar where we had a wonderful conversation about her lovelife. Naks! Hahaha! Now this isn’t even supposed to be laughed at – coz… she kinda just got (un) hooked. Awww.

My Boracay girl, Resy at Aria beach front bar. Chismising.

Had dinner at Lemoni Cafe over pan grilled Tuna and Arabiatta Pasta. The food was glorious and for a while Resy wanted the whole family to also have dinner there, but the oldies wanted to have something that comes from a smokey griller. With grill marks. So they moved to another place instead.

Now who cares about where we ate and where we chilled out. I know people care more about what happens next: the party.

At Juice bar, we came prepared. Resy swore she would drink and have fun like the old times. I was excited. I knew what Resy could do once possessed by the spirits of good alcohol. So I was excited. I arrived at the bar ahead (as usual) and I always get the shock of my life whenever the bartender, Eric, slams the ashtrays on the bar just to – call attention. Then the models came. Then the white groupies came and they always dance in such an out-of-beat way you wonder how they do it. I dance too. They stare. I’m a schooled dancer, so when I move, it is not limited to the upper body gyrations. I have what I call a semi-choreography designed for clubs that score the music well. For me, this is proper dancing. But then, who cares about proper?

When Resy arrived, the crowd was already loaded. The dancing has started and was building up. Resy danced. We were limited to crappy dancing because we didn’t have a table to put our drinks on. We only had one arm to wave. Then the models climbed up the bar chairs and inhaled the towering inferno of drinks (please see photo). Then out of nowhere, they took off their shorts (please see photo). It kinda numbed everone. But they kept gyrating. It was a nice surprise. What made me wonder was the fact that they were all wearing boxer shorts. Uhm, plan much?

The boxer shorts boys. Minimum Height Requirement: 5'11"

We continued dancing. So many people wanted to take me home. Am I at fault here? Good thing Resy was there to give me a snort whenever I start conversing with wannabes.

The next group of towering inferno inhalers went up the bar. This time, they were all in briefs (please see photo). One of the guys who looked better than everyone else was wearing an underwear with number 7 on it. When they finished inhaling, they went down and put on their trousers. One of the girls went to the number 7 guy and discreetly slipped a peso bill unto his briefs – without him noticing. I can only imagine how he would react when waking up the next day and discovering a bill crumpled in his ass.

Check out number 7's ass.

We moved to Summer Place and found an empty bench that looked perfect for isolated dancing. Resy owned it. I followed suit. Then Kevin. Then that guy. What’s his name? Erby? Yeah Erby. We danced to all sorts of music – most of which we didn’t know. But who cares about what we didn’t know?

The night was eventful in ways more than one. I did my usual French exit. Resy was dismayed. I was such a lousy old partymate. For now. We still have tonight. I will do vengeance.

How can you not be happy with this?!?!?!

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