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The Joy of Humiliating Moments

A couple of days ago, I watched a movie called "28 days" on my VCD. Yes - it was the original one, not the economic version you can buy at Mangga Dua Mall for one dollar a piece (excluding your optician's bill in consequence). I'm a good tax-paying citizen, if you are wondering.

But, the movie was about alcohol and drug addicted people who spend 28 days in a rehab centre in the hopes of kicking their bad habits. One particular scene that interested me was when in the barn, Gwen, an alcoholic played brilliantly by Sandra Bullock, and her friend Eddie, a former baseball star who was also an alcoholic, talked about their most embarrassing drunken moments. Eddie told Gwen his story, which was when he, completely out of this world, ended up sleeping with his best friend's wife. Eddie asked Gwen what hers was; but furiously she replied that she didn't see any point in remembering the most humiliating things she had done in her last 15 years of non-soberness.

This scene reminded me of the stories my old friend Jenny told me. I remember when one day her colleague at work introduced her to an important investor. As the company's public relations' bunny, it was her duty to meet and supply whatever information the investors required.

"Nice to meet you. But I think I have seen you before - two nights ago in fact, at the grand opening of Alhambra hotel, am I right?" the Singaporean investor said grinning, then quickly he added with low voice. "I could see you were a bit tipsy?"

Jenny couldn't hear the rest of the conversation. What he said left her in a position worse than every time she forces herself to laugh at her boss' horrible sexist jokes. She felt her blood starting to drain from her face. Who would forget that night? She was almost the centre of attention - or the central attraction to be precise. She didn't know anybody but the single friend who brought her along to the party. They went straight to the bar, which was set up as a tropical refreshment paradise, in the corner of the open-air function area. After half a dozen glasses of red wine, and telling all the Internet jokes she could remember to her male audience whom suddenly treated her as their best friend, she felt the urgent call of nature.

The waiter standing behind her - on guard to refill her empty glass - explained to her where the restroom was located. It was behind the hotel's lobby - approximately 200 metres away from the bar. So she walked there, careful enough not to stumble and make a silly scene.

Full of confidence she strolled back to her seat (almost all ladies leave the restroom - where they apply fresh lipstick, powder their noses and make sure no mucky green stuff is stuck between their teeth - with that positive feeling). She could feel all eyes were following her movements. Her head was almost swollen with pride before one waitress quickly ran toward her and whisper: "Miss, the back of your skirt is tucked inside your pantyhose." Frantically, she looked at her behind just to find out that her short black satin skirt was crumpled underneath her sheer black stocking up all the way to her waist - exposing her tiny thong and her almost bare you know what!

O yea, I think that one was Jenny's most humiliating stories of when she got herself completely wasted. Or was it when she danced on a bar table and slapped a guy across the cheek for trying to peek under her dress? Or maybe when she had mistaken her walk-in wardrobe as her toilet in the middle of the night? All the stories got me confused.

Gwen, in the movie, was forced to join the rehab centre by a court order. It was either that or going to jail for her. Things got out of control and she was in the position of not only endangering herself but also other people. Like the old saying: 'she was too pissed to walk - she had to drive'? Now that we mention it, what if the drinking habit put you and other people in unnecessarily dangerous positions?

In a party at my house a few months ago, a drunken moron barged into my bedroom, where I having a rest in my bed - trying to get rid of tequila's evil effects - with my huge rottweiller guard beside me. In his drunken state of mind, his brain probably translated my dog into a tiny Chihuahua or something. I only had a split second to stop my dog from tearing him apart (he had no business entering my bedroom anyway, not that he didn't deserve it).

Our bodies definitely need a certain amount of alcohol (don't we all say that?). But like everything else, when it's too much then it might hurt you or even the people you love. For instance, by saying how many times you had paid for sex in your life in front of your wife during a family dinner.

Life is beautiful. I think you'll enjoy it better without bad morning hangovers. Especially when you get older, and wiser I suppose, you'll see that doing stupid things when you are under the influence of alcohol is no longer a brave or a cool thing to do. It makes you look childish and depletes your quality. As if you need the drink to do the things which require a bit of guts.

I'll certainly not lecture you to stop consuming alcohol, since I am a wine lover myself. But don't you think that every time we drink there should be is an alarm inside our body that goes 'ka-boom' when the alcohol in our blood reaches a certain level?

This is the level at which you separate the degree of the controllable and the un-controllable movement of your organ members? Maybe at that stage our brains are trying to tell us that it is about time to reach for a glass of water or a cup of hot coffee instead. Unless you fancy yourself telling humiliating drunken tales to your grandchildren before they go to bed one day. If you live that long, that is.