Wednesday, January 16, 2013

I have killed

Jesus.  The bruise on my knee was the size of a nectarine.  and perhaps just as pretty.  not sure it smelled as good cuz my beating brain would NEVER consider reaching down that far without puking for certain.  God only knew what was in my stomach.   You would think I would remember that much of a blow but sadly it's a bit of a blur of sake.  toilet and curling iron.

right.  toilet meet knee.

curling iron meet arm.  Damn,  I hate burns that don't have a food story.   But, I guess having the best foodie on the planet in your air space counts as a food story but I don't have more than that to go on.  Damn it - I can't hold my sake.  Never could.  I distinctly remember a restaurant that no one went to -  in Brookfield(ish) Wisconsin just down from the zoo in Milwaukee of all places (nobody went - but they should have) where I ate one of the best meals of my life that I didn't personally cook.  Got fucking ripped on warm (I know right!) sake and well.  . . memories.

they suck sometimes

wish I had a full memory of last night.  Did I embarrass myself or was he pleased with my work?  Jesus help me remember.  all I could think was to find him and get him drunk again.  He couldn't keep his hands off of me last night so chances are . . .

okay.  hotel room.  food show.   AND damn this little Wisconsin girl does so love Singapore.  Sigh.   The view alone outside this hotel is beyond breathtaking.  It took a ton to get into this surf board shaped building as a room but hell - when in Rome. . .  and DAMN that view outside of the windows - naked or not is amazing.  I wish I could totally remember. And that sun is so rising and amazing.  Jeez,  I hope I didn't blow this - Damnit - this was my chance to make a way . . .  God give me a minute.  oh.   yeah.

and out he comes wrapped in a towel.

yeah.  I guess he liked it.

"ello love."




No comments:

Post a Comment