“Debussy is a wanker”

I ruled as we were clapping vigorously at the end of the first part of the concert.
“Oh… but I love this piece.” said Paul.
“Well… he just doesn’t have enough balls” I said as if that was any better – but in my defence, I had been drinking for solid 7 hours by then, as Shell and Preet had unexpectedly started off my birthday celebrations right after noon, and we all know that if you start drinking at lunch time, the only way not to give into a severe somnolence that could make you sleep through your own birthday is to keep drinking. So I did.
Nevertheless, I was still relatively sober, not sober enough however to avoid getting seriously emotional during Rachmaninov’s 2nd Symphony, but I guess getting emotional kind of is the actual point of it all.
I was also not sober enough to refrain from sticking my hand under Paul’s nose claiming that this is what being at the Symphony Hall smelled like, and that I would be highly unimpressed if they put a different hand lotion in the loos. Although by that time it was all his fault, as he fed me two more glasses of wine at the concert.
He’s also already discovered that I’m ‘a little weird’, as he kindly puts it, so I guess there’s no need to worry.