Salut tout moune, I am called the “hairy kitty,” reason that is is that I have not seen action in over a year. My host is currently jamming to some new tunes that she discovered over the weekend. Things seem like it’s going quite well for her; however, I must say it wasn’t that easy. We had to get rid of all those knots she built up over the years, all the viciousness she had bottled. She has officially obtained her Masters and will be advancing for her Ph.D., I must say, she’s quite a bore. It’s another Saturday night, and she’s working on her dissertation, nonetheless, I, of course, would rather a little PDA.
From TedX videos and motivational videos, for a young beautiful curvaceous dark chocolate goddess, I must say that I would do her if given a chance.
That moment of no return, the train takes off, our stomach is on air. I hope we got on the right train, only one hour of sleep. Shit, I think we took the wrong train. Brussels South, wait…the attendant from the last train pointed us to this train after we showed her the map. Okay, I’m insanely nervous, and I’m afraid of her getting lost. But shouldn’t that be the adventure!
Okay, we’re not lost. We get off next stop and head straight downstairs to platform 15 and up again. My stomach is still acting up
“Guys, I just the worst sex from hell!” Meet Mr. Bedbugs. Allow me to process this a bit because it is still odd to her that this happened. The size was perfect, the music was loud, the room was dark, and within less than five minutes he was done. I think we both got a migraine that night. Unfortunately, when we got home, we uncover the sin of all sins. A BED BUG caught on our jeans jacket. The dismay, the anger, the disappointed. I still don’t have words to describe the horror in our face. You see, the year prior we had to disinfect our entire room due to a bed bug infestation so you can imagine what we did. Our jeans jacket, our favor blue dress, panty, bra, and anything that could have touched the floor or his bed was in a plastic bag in the trash while we scrubbed scrubbed scrubbed away the nightmare.e.
The Scientist we met at party in Amsterdam. One night stands aren’t our style, you can call us uptight but did you know a lot can happen when two people are drunk. Let’s just say, New Year’s Eve as a married woman was unexpected. Only in movies right, sike! Shit just got real. No, we didn’t wake up next to him covered in puke, or even in a hotel home, no no, no. Everything seemed normal that morning except that engagement ring on our left hand. I think she choked on her toothbrush when she saw it. There was no one in our hotel room, empty, we checked everywhere, every damn room and it was empty. Passport was still here, and even the safe-box was still locked with our valuables. Then everything came crashing down, Insta, since when were we that popular, “I said yes,” “It’s official Mr. & Mrs.” Well hello, sexy, that’s my husbannndd. After a pure edible at Green Place, we met a hottie at the clubs, got married, and didn’t even exchange numbers and crazy enough, the ring was real. We met our husband after we DM each other that very same day. I must say, my host has great taste. We had to of course end this marriage, not without a little loving. For a marine biologist, he surprised us. Tall, muscular, smart, and that damn smile get me happy.
Last year we were in Europe for inspiration for her damn dissertation, and I must say we find inspiration in many forms. From Amsterdam, Rotterdam, Gorinchem, Utrecht, Düsseldorf, Paris, Barcelona, and Switzerland. I don’t want her to go back to the United States. I became alive when I am there; it’s as if she welcomes and accepts me when are in new places where she is not recognized and when she is not seen as a smartass.
“Let the R roll off your tongue,” he says. She has never gotten that much attention in the states before, however, she never really paid attention like this before. That green dress we have on really shows off our figure. Her hips flowing with every touch. His smile is contagious; I’m assuming that he figured out that she’s a dancer. She may be a bookworm, but I’m proud to say that we are a social butterfly that lights up every room wherever we go, and after a week in Barcelona, we have considered this place home. Our favorite coffee was waiting for us at Bendito Pecado Pasteleria, dancing salsa, allowing our body to move with the music. I must say I am falling in love with Barcelona. And him, that kiss was steamy yet…
I can daydream of those lips every day, and I can accept not ever having a chance to make love to him.
My trusty laptop. Te amo de um milhão.I find it ironic that our trusty laptop is a lover but come to think of it, you spend more time on it than you spend with me. I can see why my nickname is “hairy kitty,” well you actually decided to have a waxed kitty for this trip and yet we manage to have gotten a divorce. Intel knows our secrets. From research documents to the soft porn we keep hidden when we need it, our laptop has saved lives. Well, mine to be exact. That is exactly how I manage to survive that Master’s program.