I am the world famous cocktail journalist 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.
***
Dear fans, friends and lovers: regards from London, the world's best cocktail city. I flew over yesterday on a grant from EU liquer industry to report on the latest mixes. Received 300 € for a hotel, but stayed with my girlfriend in Camden and pocketed the cash for better purposes. On my way to work stopped by in a bar in Camden. Don't remeber the name but it's the one where Amy Whinehouse (is that name a joke or for real?) is said to hang out. And she did: behind the counter! There she was flashing her new white post-boob-job-bra and taking orders.
She was disgusting. Kept sucking her fingers and forgot everybodys orders. At the closing she just just down on the floor and drunk vodka straight from the bottle. Luckily she also forgot to charge me of any of my dozen GT's, which makes my trip even more profitable.
It seems that I'm losing my tolerances! Got so drunk out of the merely dozen or so doses, that failed to go to any real cocktail bar, e.g. failed to complete by job! EU will be angry! The last I remember is me sliding down on the wooden floorboard next to Whinehouse. All the sudden, I really felt for her.
"Oh Amy, I so know what it's like to be an artist."
"Are you an artist too?" she asked, offering me a sip of her vodka.
"Yeah. And it's so hard. And fame only makes it worse", I said, grapping the bottle.
"Bottoms up!" she encouraged and took another vodka bottle from the shelve.
"I just wanna be independent and follow my deepest intuition but those greedy bastards in media want me to be their whore", I was raging.
"Fuck them!" Amy shouted.
"Fuck everybody!" I joined her.
I woke up one hour before my flight back to Helsinki. In some flat in some suburb, inhabited by a young journalist named Steve. Thank God: for a second before opening my eyes I was afraid the person cuddling me was Whinehouse. Found her sleeping in the corridor on my way out.
Now I just have to create a convincing report for the EU liquer industry. If You know something about London cocktail bars, please send me personal e-mail.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
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