Whenever I find myself involved in a which-coffeehouse-is-better disputation over um, coffee, I have always, always insisted that Starbucks is second to none. Over the many years of being a hapless victim of commercialism, I developed an emotional affiliation with Starbucks not because of their coffee or food, they are no better than most crap you can find in other coffeehouses out there anyway, but because Starbucks practices the “We don’t really care if our coffee tastes like piss, we will surely be friendly enough to make you forget about it” philosophy. The staffs and baristas of the Starbucks outlet I frequent even greet me by name whenever I walk in, and that is the sort of personalised service you will be hard pressed to find in say, basically anywhere else except for I don’t know, whore houses?

Everyone knows why everyone loves Chinese New Year. The little red packets, the gambling, the partying, the drinking, the food, the holiday and for the fact that you can finally be the total asshole that you are by indulging in batshit insane fashion sense, knowing that it’s the time of the year where no one gives a shit even if you walk on the streets dressed as The Flash, as the fashion vigilantes will be too busy watching 2 grown-ups maneuver a (fabricated) lion’s head.

Yes, everyone loves Chinese New Year. But let me tell you what do I loathe about this festival.

Bangkok is too awesome for words. I have been there for about 6 times but that bustling city still appeals to me like a Legolas poster to a pubescent girl. My visit 4 days ago was quite the difference from all the previous ones. Instead of just the usual and more often than not mindless walking, shopping, partying, drinking, train-riding and eating, this holiday served as a platform for me to commence the healing from an emotional wound as well as to truly learn how to live a life.

I love attending weddings. Not so much for basking in the romantic sentiments the amorous video presentations or cheesy love songs provide, but because weddings are avenues for me to escape into a world of perfection. Weddings are the only time and place where everyone thinks that love is pure, everybody is beautiful, 98 Degree’s songs are brilliant, alcohol is cheap and farts are aromatic. Put Adolf Hitler into a wedding and he’ll come out being Mahatma Gandhi.

Let’s face it, we meet idiots every day.

The guy you shared the elevator with who reeked like he last took a shower during his christening. The cashier who returned your change soaked in shit-like remnants. The asshole who just couldn’t shut the hell up in the theatre. Or the salesperson who just wouldn’t let you walk away without killing someone.