Holiday Summary

I'm the world's famous cocktail journalist(ess) Anna Väkeväinen - a recognized sipologist but mostly focusing on gonzo reportage. I'm so famous that sometimes replying to all the invitations and fan mail keeps me from doing the actual work: drinking. But I always get back on the track soon.

Finally back to work! A new Asian influenced restauraunt Farang has opened. Naturally, I was attending the opening but now, I will go undercover, some serious cocktail reportage in mind.

While I'm putting on make up and getting changed between 10-15 times before leaving, here's a summary of my summer holiday (drinking only beer, cider, whisky and wine. And brandy.)

* Met a man, a doctor, gorgeous. Became a girlfriend: doing grocery shopping together, meeting his friends, watching DVD:s on his couch, forgetting my friends, leaving their texts unreplied (sorry girls! I regret it deeply!). Until one early morning I made a surprise visit to his place, threw my clothes on the floor, and noticed there were already women's clothes on the floor. His? Some other woman's? I didnt stay to ask.
* Took a cab, made a last minute booking for the next flight to Nice, joining 3 of my friends already getting burnt there. Went straight from his, from here on known as That Man, place to the airport. Was forced to shop new clothes in Nice every day. Proved highly therapeutic. Didn't feel like shagging anyone yet though, so I had to gently push a cute bartender who fancied me towards my friend Miss G who fancied him, or, more honestly, anyone. The sex proved class A.
* Back in Helsinki, ended up in some Flow festival. Planned to work, but no cocktails at the Flow. They did have champagne, though. That explains the next morning. Before that, drunk between 5-9 tiny tiny bottles of the sparkling, talked to strangers at the bar, and ignored the whimpy "indie" bands whining and looking like they're about to collapse. Grace Jones, perfoming last, did get me on that cougar mood later on, but all I found was too young too "indie" men. People who look like virtual characters in the Internet, encoded by some lonely nerd. As if they're disembodied, living only in their head, in some imaginary world where everything is ironic & supposedly cool. Call me oldfashioned, but I'm all into bodies and energy. These people are anti-materia.
* Met my upstairs neighbours, shared a cab, listened to myself from the outside, as my lips were producing a monologue about how much I like children (they have those), and the real me was struggling with non-stop hick-ups.
* Next day I was cuddling the toilet seat intimately from 7 am to 2 pm, for reasons beyond by my control. I even, naively, made the classic decision: I will never touch etanol again. Hah!