Whiskey from a plastic jar...

I imagine myself jumping up and down on her corpse. The girl behind the counter charges €7.50! for an ordinary Jameson, just to pour it into a PLASTIC jar .., forcing me to gather a search party to see if I can find the whiskey on the bottom somewhere.. the glory of Schiphol airport, they just don't get it.
How did I get here again?

Struggling with a bad case of quarter life crisis, I decided yesterday not to be in town for my 31ste birthday. I don't like birthdays, least of all mine... Instead of congratulating our mothers, for suffering hard labour and thick ankles for 9 months and thanking our fathers for sticking around for the full torture of 9 months of mood swings and feeding frenzies, we celebrate our existence by various amateurish versions of  "I'm/he's/she's a jolly good fellow". I don't like the obligatory hand shaking, bearded aunt kissing and make believe happy joy joy atmosphere of birthdays. So I usually skip it, it has become a sort of tradition. The Birthday Sod Off if you will. Not to mention turning 31.., my god, to old to be young, young enough to realize your getting old. In my case, realizing you've spent half your life asleep, drunk, at work or waiting inline.., and still don't no what you want to do with the remaining half.

I fit the model of a modern day consumerist, I am a slave of capitalism.  Work,consume, eat, shit, consume, sleep, sex and consume some more... And now I've embraced consumerism to escape the inevitability of growing old, shaking hands and fulfilling obligatory routines along the way. I bought the cheapest ticket to any place warmer and drier then Holland, I could find. So Barcelona, brace yourself. Let me spend my money on you, so I can repeat the cycle of consummation when I get back.

Still, that's no excuse for them to pour whiskey into plastic though.