15 SHOTS. Day 2 in Boracay. Breakfast was at Friday’s and it was water activities after breakfast. We did the Banana Boat thingy and rest assured, T, Ren, Stimpy and I were the trouble makers on the boat. Damn thing overturned so much the boat operator was getting kinda pissed at us. After lunch we went snorkeling with Ren almost breaking the top deck of the boat from his swan dives. We also did a tour round the island thingy and headed back to the island with hopes of catching the sun set. By the time we got back to the island, the sun was already setting but we still managed to grab a couple of great shots. Dinner was again at Waling Waling.
After dinner, we decided to visit the infamous Cocomangas. This place is famous for the 15 shots and still standing thingy. Finish 15 shots of liquor and if you are still standing, you get a shirt and your name goes up on the wall. We checked out the wall and it was a big ass wall with damn a lot of friggin names. Then there was a scoreboard of the number of nationalities that achieved the 15 shots thingy. Malaysia’s count was 22. I thought Malaysia would have more alcoholics than that. But then again, probably Malaysians don’t know about Cocomangas.
It was still early and the place was not filled up yet. Only a few chicks here and there, mostly staff of Cocomangas. I saw Stimpy sitting by the bar and I walked over. Stimpy was asking the bartender about the 15 shots and I went, “hey, you going to do it?”
Stimpy: Nah, I just want to see what’s its like. Can you show us what the 15 shots consist of?
The bartender showed us a menu. Each shot was a concoction/mixture of different liquor.
Me: Damn. Can you look at that. Farking evil drinks man.
Stimpy: yeah … hey, can you show us how does a shot look like?
The bartender placed one of the glass on the table. Damn. Its one hell of a big shot.
Me: errr… if you don’t mind, can you line up 15 glasses on the table? So that we can see what’s 15 shots like?
The bartender obliged and placed 15 glasses on the table. Damn … scary.
Stimpy: hey, you wanna do it?
Me: nah … enough drinking. Besides, its kinda expensive.
Stimpy: Come on man! Look, I’ll pay half.
Me: No way.
Stimpy: hey, I still owe you money for this morning’s breakfast.
That’s when everyone else crowded round the table and egged me on. Damn. What am I? Some circus entertainer?
Me: Give me an incentive why I should do this? Besides getting really happy afterwards.
B: hey chee chee, you can have the phone numbers (earlier I was asking for phone numbers of the chicks at the wedding especially K’s phone number)
Me: really? You’ll give me the phone numbers?
B: yeah, I’ll give you five phone numbers.
Me: alright, let’s do it!
Stimpy: hey, we’ve gotta have a strategy.
Me: what strategy?
Stimpy: you can take your time to finish the 15 shots. As long as you want. But I would suggest you eat something in between so that it can absorb the alcohol.
Me: so what are you suggesting?
Stimpy: well, eat something. Like a banana. Hey do you have a banana? (Stimpy asked the bartender and the bartender placed a banana on the table besides the 15 glasses) Okay, you take 7 shots, and you rest. Chew on the banana.
Me: what the fark? I feel like a boxer now. Let’s do it. (The bartender fills up the 15 glasses. Damn, they looked damn farking colorful and evil. For a color blind person and if I can see all those colors in the 15 glasses, I am in deep shit!)
My strategy was, down the farking glasses as fast as I could. If I take my time, I would probably be on the floor. I took the first 5 shots really fast. Downing them. But I felt sick. Maybe I downed them too farking fast. And it tasted bad. Farking foul. Felt like barfing there and then. Not from being drunk. But damn thing tasted foul. I stopped. Trying hard to burp out some gas.
Stimpy: here, here, chew on the banana. (I started chewing)
Z: hey chee chee, you want music to go with your drinks?
Me: yeah, get me limpbizkit’s Mission Impossible!
Z ran over to the deejay consul and came back after a few minutes. They don’t have that.
Me: Then get me Numb.
Z: who’s the singer?
Me: Linkin Park lah tibai.
Okay okay. Z ran back to the deejay. 5minutes later, he came back.
Z: they don’t have that either.
Me: what the fark?
Z: but I told them to play Crawling. Figured you’ll be crawling back after this.
A couple of minutes later … where’s the music? Fark it. I downed the remainder 9 shots at a go. Damn thing tasted friggin foul. I was supposed to write my name down and my comments but no thanks to pundek Z, God knows what he wrote in the book Farking fowl? Bangsat! I further suspect he put his own name down instead. Tibai dog.
Whatever it is, Malaysia’s score is now 23.
After dinner, we decided to visit the infamous Cocomangas. This place is famous for the 15 shots and still standing thingy. Finish 15 shots of liquor and if you are still standing, you get a shirt and your name goes up on the wall. We checked out the wall and it was a big ass wall with damn a lot of friggin names. Then there was a scoreboard of the number of nationalities that achieved the 15 shots thingy. Malaysia’s count was 22. I thought Malaysia would have more alcoholics than that. But then again, probably Malaysians don’t know about Cocomangas.
It was still early and the place was not filled up yet. Only a few chicks here and there, mostly staff of Cocomangas. I saw Stimpy sitting by the bar and I walked over. Stimpy was asking the bartender about the 15 shots and I went, “hey, you going to do it?”
Stimpy: Nah, I just want to see what’s its like. Can you show us what the 15 shots consist of?
The bartender showed us a menu. Each shot was a concoction/mixture of different liquor.
Me: Damn. Can you look at that. Farking evil drinks man.
Stimpy: yeah … hey, can you show us how does a shot look like?
The bartender placed one of the glass on the table. Damn. Its one hell of a big shot.
Me: errr… if you don’t mind, can you line up 15 glasses on the table? So that we can see what’s 15 shots like?
The bartender obliged and placed 15 glasses on the table. Damn … scary.
Stimpy: hey, you wanna do it?
Me: nah … enough drinking. Besides, its kinda expensive.
Stimpy: Come on man! Look, I’ll pay half.
Me: No way.
Stimpy: hey, I still owe you money for this morning’s breakfast.
That’s when everyone else crowded round the table and egged me on. Damn. What am I? Some circus entertainer?
Me: Give me an incentive why I should do this? Besides getting really happy afterwards.
B: hey chee chee, you can have the phone numbers (earlier I was asking for phone numbers of the chicks at the wedding especially K’s phone number)
Me: really? You’ll give me the phone numbers?
B: yeah, I’ll give you five phone numbers.
Me: alright, let’s do it!
Stimpy: hey, we’ve gotta have a strategy.
Me: what strategy?
Stimpy: you can take your time to finish the 15 shots. As long as you want. But I would suggest you eat something in between so that it can absorb the alcohol.
Me: so what are you suggesting?
Stimpy: well, eat something. Like a banana. Hey do you have a banana? (Stimpy asked the bartender and the bartender placed a banana on the table besides the 15 glasses) Okay, you take 7 shots, and you rest. Chew on the banana.
Me: what the fark? I feel like a boxer now. Let’s do it. (The bartender fills up the 15 glasses. Damn, they looked damn farking colorful and evil. For a color blind person and if I can see all those colors in the 15 glasses, I am in deep shit!)
My strategy was, down the farking glasses as fast as I could. If I take my time, I would probably be on the floor. I took the first 5 shots really fast. Downing them. But I felt sick. Maybe I downed them too farking fast. And it tasted bad. Farking foul. Felt like barfing there and then. Not from being drunk. But damn thing tasted foul. I stopped. Trying hard to burp out some gas.
Stimpy: here, here, chew on the banana. (I started chewing)
Z: hey chee chee, you want music to go with your drinks?
Me: yeah, get me limpbizkit’s Mission Impossible!
Z ran over to the deejay consul and came back after a few minutes. They don’t have that.
Me: Then get me Numb.
Z: who’s the singer?
Me: Linkin Park lah tibai.
Okay okay. Z ran back to the deejay. 5minutes later, he came back.
Z: they don’t have that either.
Me: what the fark?
Z: but I told them to play Crawling. Figured you’ll be crawling back after this.
A couple of minutes later … where’s the music? Fark it. I downed the remainder 9 shots at a go. Damn thing tasted friggin foul. I was supposed to write my name down and my comments but no thanks to pundek Z, God knows what he wrote in the book Farking fowl? Bangsat! I further suspect he put his own name down instead. Tibai dog.
Whatever it is, Malaysia’s score is now 23.
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