Celebrating and more

Suppose you buy a house, you need to celebrate, right?! How often does it happen?! I hope often enough, I’m already in the mood for something bigger! LoL My banker says I need to keep it for at least 5 years for it to be profitable, he’s my guru, unless I win the lottery..

Day 1 – Private party with my sailorboy down in our crib. Wine, good music and swimming involved, no victims, but laughters.

Day 2 – Goodbye party at Van Puffelen bar-resto. Pretty coolish place, I (p)resume. No need for tears, no over-reacted animal dance, I leave early. Drinking and socializing done, no overalcoholic feelings noticed, studying needs to pop up later the evening.

Day 3 – Studying done at the uni and partying continued at Stefan’s place. We didn’t get to celebrate buying the house, so serious drinking needs to be spotted on the table. Good family times with a lemon twist.

Day 4 – You figured out the mix – house–person-house-person celebration. It logically needs to be fed up by bubble bath and champagne for my sailorboy. He’s taking off the corporate world, going Down Under to find what’s lost and new – new adventure for him, cake and drinks for me.

Day 5 – So follow the logic?! Yes, it’s something for the house – a new espresso machine. A red Francis Francis! And I go mad on it! Must be the best thing in the house! Well, ok, we’re going to score it all in one day – we’re up for some more delicious impressive stuff. So me and my sailorboy go figure out the sweet dark taste of food. It’s no screwed-up metaphor!! It’s really eating in the dark. Imagine the darkest black and no tiny light whatsoever. Imagine finding your food in that – it’s damn hard, I tell you! You’re putting wine on you, or water, you don’t find out til you tasted it, anyhow. You get too much of that chunky fish out of the sudden, while you can barely find one small potato in the plate you’re already thinking it’s like 15inch smth. You’re sniffing around like some dog while trying to decently use your fork and knife while chasing some peas.. the neighbour has given up eating, he smokes some cigarettes and decides that’s no fun. We giggle in the dark and mix up drinks and flavours. We go on mixing it in Paradiso. Mr. Oizo is on. The beats meet the master and Prodigy, Daft Punk, Madonna, Red Hot Chilli Peppers and most mad combinations you’d ever think of are smacking me up! The French non-duo is hitting it off like fire on water, I mean vodka on fire, I mean…. It’s insane! It’s madness! It’s mr. Oizo!!