Lost.

I was at Timbre the other night. Timbre, for the non-nightlife crowd, tempts fate by maintaining its alfresco demeanor, and whose business plan probably reads "A music bar whose revenue is inversely related to the amount of rainfall collected in the reservoirs." I would love to be there when the skies open up halfway through a set. I dont think Jack's jokes can penetrate the air of misery then.
I was about to solve the mystery of why my pint of Erdinger costs $16.20 when SuperSarcasticSuperwoman (lame^10) arrives, decked out in mordant black. Presumably, there's no villains to mock tonight, she's looking all normal in typical officewear. Conversation degenerates to grunts, gestures and eye-rolling and i've realised something then. Something that has been gnawing at my brainstem for weeks. I have a banality breeding field around me. Everywhere i go, conversations become trite, anecdotes boring, jokes cliched. Even SSSwoman couldn't save her ass. She left early. Wimp.
On a brighter note, my alcohol tolerance is at an all-time low. Two pints is enough to get me buzzing! Tis good for my liver... i guess. Obviously good for my wallet.