Sunday, September 13, 2009

Headache central

Morning now.
Sept. 13 2009. Tupac died today, 13 years ago.
I can hear birds chirping crazily in the distance, and my head is still swimming from the night before. A dog is barking somewhere... It's all fuzzy. I have a head full of sedatives and beer. Got to get a grip and get out of bed. It's 11:30 a.m., but to me it's 9:30. Too early to be getting out of bed.
Am I really here? Did I actually quit my job and fly out here on a whim. No drug is that powerful. Keep it together.
Dozens of beautiful women in the club last night. Something about this city, the girls walk up and introduce themselves to you. They are gorgeous.
I was sipping on my 3rd Dos Equis of the evening, watching the band play, when a foxy vixen with her hair propped up in an 80's headband greeted me.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked me in Spanish.
"Are you married?"
Then she grabs me by the collar and makes out with me before walking away. We didnt speak again the rest of the night.
The male-female dynamic is much more in balance here than it is in the U.S., at least when it comes to dating. How am I ever going to go back?


  1. Duuuuude. Are you going to share?

  2. Now that's a story. Are you missing work yet? I was just dipping by to say hi and see what the heck you were up to out there. Be good. Hope you find whatever you're looking for that made you up and leave.


  3. You probably danced a little after you kissed her and that's why she walked away. I've seen you dance brother and it ain't pretty. Hope you're having fun out there, keep me posted, I got you on anything Koppo Don.

    The Don