Jin and Ade then turned up at my place in the evening to pick me up in his brand-spanking new Nismo Sentra, all of seven days young, for a night out in Bangsar before we were to proceed to Saujana for our bukkake and booze party. But first, we made a stop at Carrefour for our poison- Absolut. Jin then spotted his parents there and went absolutely bonkers: "Fuck, my parents are here! I go hide first!" After Ade and I had stopped laughing, we picked out a caouple of bottles of coke and mineral water, one of which Ade dropped hard onto the bottle of Absolut (which, incidentally, is made of glass) in the basket, sending me into seizures. After finally having convinced Jin that we wouldn't bump into his p's again, we made our way out through an exit on another floor.

Bangsar. Ahh, party, booze, and underaged ass central. I'll reiterate here that I Am Not A Clubber (or rather, I Don't Dance, Because I Don't Know How), though I enjoy the atmosephere there. The only reason I was there was because our old haunt, Voyeur had been replaced by Club 11:15, a concept club that changed its theme every six months. A fucking good concept, I must add. Anyway, the current theme was The Pharmacy, where the waitresses were decked in NURSE uniforms, and the bartenders were dressed as orderlies. As if that's not enough, (shut your jaws, men), the next theme will be The Cockpit (ooh, suggestive), followed by one we're all waiting, salivating for, drum roll, papparapparaaaa!

The Precinct

Fuck, don't even tell me a tingle did not just run the century sprint down your spine and into your loins! Anyway, the place was too packed, it being opening night, so we left, feeling a little dejected at not being able to ogle at nubile young women in tight white uniforms adorned with giant red crosses. On the bright side, we managed to recruit Kevin and William for our grand bukkake and booze cause, easing our individual expenditure. So off we were to the Hyatt. We made a brief stop at 7-11 for some ice, and at K Hong's for a quarter bottle of Chivas and an unopened one of Black Label.

The room was gorge, but had the air of a lovers' room, what with its bathroom with a window that opens to a view of the bedroom and couldn't be locked, and a shower cubicle made entirely of glass. K Hong brought a camera, so we went snap-happy, even re-enacting our infamous Leng Chai Pose in the room. I then decided to have a shower at that point, and as I stepped into the cubicle and twisted the knobs, I heard some sniggering emerge from the back of me. Dread replaced my hopes of having a nice, hot, UNINTERRUPTED shower and I slowly turned around, and there they were, the Leng Chai Gang and William, laughing their nuts off, framed by the wide open majestic wooden windows that couldn't lock. I couldn't turn round completely for fear of exposing my rude bits to the bastards, but my worst fears weren't unfounded, when I heard K hong yelling "Wait! let me get my camera!" followed by Kev also yelling "Haha! I'll use my phone to record!". So after several hours of humiliation, they finally left me alone to my scrubbing. They later showed me the videos they took- fortunately a strategically hung towel on the glass door sufficiently blocked my skinny white ass from being exposed to the lens of the camera.

We broke out the Chivas first, starting with the numbers game, whereby everyone in a circle stuck out any number of fingers each round, and the sum of the fingers would be counted from the previous round's loser, around the circle, until we reached a new loser who'd have to down a nasty shot of Chivas (plus Coke, for the sissies) in one gulp. We were high, but we weren't wasted, and Kev got a phone call from his mom to go back home now, or she'll whupp his buttocks with a paddle the next day. So he and Will had to leave, leaving Jin, K hong, Adrian and I with a bottle of Absolut that was a quarter empty, an unopened bottle of ol' Johnnie Walker, and a TV tuned to a broadcast of the opening ceremony of the Olympics. Oh, lordie, what were four stunningly good-looking guys to do?

Play Chik-ku-pak, of course, with the losing duo having to down a shot each, or one could opt to ease his teammate's suffering and down both, which is an even nastier shot than the one in the numbers game. I was paired with Jin, which was quite unfortunate, as his objective in each round was to eliminate me, then lose to the opposing team. His philosophy was "I paid for this bottle too, I'm going to drink as much of it as I can!" So yeah, we got pretty wasted. Adrian, on the other hand, had a teammate almost as unfortunate as mine, in the form of K hong, who was infinitely clueless whenever Ade dropped hints as to what his next move was going to be, the result being that he'd be eliminated each time Ade dropped a hint prior to making a move. One quarter into the Black Label, and with the Absolut emptied, all three were high to the point where they thought they could fly, whereas I was tota-fucking-lly wasted, stoning on the bed, my head swimming with lovely lovely alcohol, and the game had to be abandoned. At one point they passed out, and I adjourned to the bathroom to attend to the nasty business of blowing chunks (chunks being half-digested food, mind, and not a living entity). Having spewed my guts, I noticed the absence of Jin's earth-shuddering snore (which, I should add, was having a bitch of a time in Langkawi in December) and glanced out the open wooden window at him. He was sitting up, with some vile-looking black scum on his pillow and bed.

"Jin - you puked?"

But answer came there none. I tried again. "Jin, you puked?"

Grunt. Sniff.

And then he fell back asleep on his bed, unaware that he was half-swimming in a puddle of his own gut scum. Suitably disgusted, I went to sleep in Adrian's bed. I woke up the next morning with a bitch of a hangover, hence the title, to Adrian's yelling: "Fuck, Yijin, you shat your bed!" So we showered (with the exception of Jin, notorious for not bathing), washed the hangover out of our eyes, hid the incriminating barf-soaked pillow in a closet, and drove back for a scrumptious brunch of Bak Kut Teh. Damn, bak kut teh tastes fucking good when you're hungover with your stomach having pumped itself clean the night before.

MORAL OF THE STORY: No one should ever sleep with Yijin, no matter the circumstances.