A series of closed letters to yesterday
Dear Andrej,
True, women are great. And if you want to date three of them, go right ahead. Seriously, knock yourself out. But, do not rope me in to juggle for you. I'm not a juggler's assistant. In fact, the thing that makes jugglers stand out is their ability to do what they do...WITHOUT ASSISTANCE. Kaja had great fashion sense, and Petra had beautiful eyes, but I'd put my money on Jasna. She's a little hyperactive, but I like that. That's just me. A word of advice, take it or leave it.
Dear Jaka,
Your theories about the roots of drum and bass intrigue me. And although I'm not 100% on your ideas, the music you played was surprisingly good. Next time, yes, we will have to have some old school hip-hop at our disposal. "It's Tricky," "Strong Island," and "Criminal Minded" were all good calls. Also, don't change topics so quickly; I'm still curious to hear what you think about the US presence in the Middle East.
Dear Eva,
No. And that's final.
Dear Jasna,
Aww, it was so good to see you too. Flattery will get you everywhere, including into my good graces. If you didn't live in Vrnika, I would have paid for your taxi home, but that's like 7000 Tolars and really...ouch. But, you're working again tonight. I'll probably stop by after the Slovenian Wine Festival in Hotel Slon. You're tongue-pierced lisp is your best quality and I totally mean that in a good way.
Dear 9/11 Conspiracy Theory, Living in Brazil Dick,
If I tell you I do not give a shit what you think or what facts you're bringing to the table, I mean it. I totally fucking mean it. I'm not pulling your leg. I do not care. I physically, mentally, and spiritually could not care less. I'm just trying to catch up with Jasna here. I'm not a fucking sounding board for you to try out your profound ability to aggrevate. And just because you traveled all over the US for three years does NOT mean that you understand America better than I do. It's impossible. It is "a black hole forming directly over my bed that spits out well-read sex-crazed English-speaking alien humanoid females" im-fucking-possible. OK? Now that we've gotten that straightened out...sip your fucking Guiness out of a can, pay your bill, and stick where the sun always shines, like back in Brazil. Fuck you, it's my birthday. Jesus.
Dear Bartender at Global,
Your memory is amazing. Your partner's not so much. She had to make my drink three times, because she kept adding Coke. One complaint: take fewer bathroom breaks.
Dear Wasted Dude,
You may be the future of Slovene music, but you can't sit up straight in a bucket seat. That doesn't bode well for anyone, especially you.
Dear Polona,
I could talk to you all night. And from the looks I was getting from your boyfriend, I did.
Dear Photobooth in the Train,
Thanks for nothing. At least, you didn't take my money AND not work.
Dear Alcohol,
You suck. But I still like you.
True, women are great. And if you want to date three of them, go right ahead. Seriously, knock yourself out. But, do not rope me in to juggle for you. I'm not a juggler's assistant. In fact, the thing that makes jugglers stand out is their ability to do what they do...WITHOUT ASSISTANCE. Kaja had great fashion sense, and Petra had beautiful eyes, but I'd put my money on Jasna. She's a little hyperactive, but I like that. That's just me. A word of advice, take it or leave it.
Dear Jaka,
Your theories about the roots of drum and bass intrigue me. And although I'm not 100% on your ideas, the music you played was surprisingly good. Next time, yes, we will have to have some old school hip-hop at our disposal. "It's Tricky," "Strong Island," and "Criminal Minded" were all good calls. Also, don't change topics so quickly; I'm still curious to hear what you think about the US presence in the Middle East.
Dear Eva,
No. And that's final.
Dear Jasna,
Aww, it was so good to see you too. Flattery will get you everywhere, including into my good graces. If you didn't live in Vrnika, I would have paid for your taxi home, but that's like 7000 Tolars and really...ouch. But, you're working again tonight. I'll probably stop by after the Slovenian Wine Festival in Hotel Slon. You're tongue-pierced lisp is your best quality and I totally mean that in a good way.
Dear 9/11 Conspiracy Theory, Living in Brazil Dick,
If I tell you I do not give a shit what you think or what facts you're bringing to the table, I mean it. I totally fucking mean it. I'm not pulling your leg. I do not care. I physically, mentally, and spiritually could not care less. I'm just trying to catch up with Jasna here. I'm not a fucking sounding board for you to try out your profound ability to aggrevate. And just because you traveled all over the US for three years does NOT mean that you understand America better than I do. It's impossible. It is "a black hole forming directly over my bed that spits out well-read sex-crazed English-speaking alien humanoid females" im-fucking-possible. OK? Now that we've gotten that straightened out...sip your fucking Guiness out of a can, pay your bill, and stick where the sun always shines, like back in Brazil. Fuck you, it's my birthday. Jesus.
Dear Bartender at Global,
Your memory is amazing. Your partner's not so much. She had to make my drink three times, because she kept adding Coke. One complaint: take fewer bathroom breaks.
Dear Wasted Dude,
You may be the future of Slovene music, but you can't sit up straight in a bucket seat. That doesn't bode well for anyone, especially you.
Dear Polona,
I could talk to you all night. And from the looks I was getting from your boyfriend, I did.
Dear Photobooth in the Train,
Thanks for nothing. At least, you didn't take my money AND not work.
Dear Alcohol,
You suck. But I still like you.
posted by J Wilson at Thursday, November 17, 2005
1 Comments:
a) I can't believe you went to effing Global.
b) I like the way Jasna says "potato"
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